Carling Ave. Foodie

Plantains

2010-05-12T10:39:00.003-04:00

Produce Depot at Carling and Maitland is my new favourite store. I find that when I shop there, I buy less processed food (because there is less of it available, évidemment!). Furthermore, because there is so much gorgeous produce to gorge upon, I tend to buy more fruits and vegetables than when I am at Loblaws (supermarket chain). This plethora of fruits and vegetables means I am forced to cook "from scratch", which is healthier, and cheaper. Wonderful!

As I mentioned in a previous post, they also have lots of exotic fruits and vegetables to titillate my thrill seeking palate. On a recent foray, I came upon some exciting looking "Hawaiian Plantains". Now, they often have plantains, green, deep yellow and even blackish ones, but somehow they never pushed my buttons. But the shape of these Hawaiian ones was so unusual that I had to try them. The shape reminds me of banana blossoms, which is something else I want to try cooking sometime soon.

These plantains were a nice yellow colour, which meant they were ripe for cooking. Further research on the internet suggested waiting until they got really black, as then they are even tastier, but I wanted to cook up my Hawaiian plantains ASAP. I have a (somewhat warranted) reputation for letting produce rot in my household (at least, so my husband claims), and that charge is doubled when it is something exotic I haven't cooked before. I bought these on a Saturday so, the very next day, I readied my apron and my pans for a cooking spree.

I haven't eaten plantains often - just twice in fact! The first time was at university, when a fellow student from Jamaica made them at her home. The next time was at Yre's Exotic Chicken BBQ on Charlotte St, just off Rideau (another major street in Ottawa). Both times the plantains were deep fried oily, sticky and sweet. So I decided my plantains had to be the same. Plantains are the usual accompaniment to African and Caribbean foods like jerk chicken and other grilled meats. It may seem odd to have a sweet side dish for these foods, but somehow the flavour combination works, and is eminently delicious.

I googled a few plantain recipes, and decided to fry mine in a little more oil than I usually use, then to douse them in honey. They got all soft and goldeny. With the honey they got sweet and gooey, with a bit of a caramelized crust. Tasted incredible out of the pan. Had to exercise immense self control not to eat all of them before dinner was ready.

After this I made Chinese fried rice, then lamb meatballs. Had some chili-garlic sauce as an accompaniment. Was nervous the flavours of these eclectic items wouldn't go well together, but my husband liked it and enthusiastically dug in.

Later, he declared that he doesn't like fruit that has "had things done to it" and, after a few pieces of plantain, wouldn't eat any more. I pointed out that plantains are not eaten like a fruit, but as a starch. I didn't protest too strongly, though, as I was more than happy to appropriate his plantains. My kid didn't like them either, which made me sad. But hey, that meant more plantains for me! Yum!!

Hot Dog

2010-05-12T09:23:00.005-04:00

It's springtime at Carling Avenue, and you know what that means - hot dogs!

Yes! For me, summer and hot dogs are inextricably linked. And back in April we had some really hot, sunny weather that it made my mouth water for a hot dog! I don't know where this craving came from - growing up we didn't eat hot dogs too often, and never from those enticing street carts (mystery meat doesn't go over well with Hindus); all I can say is that when the weather reaches a certain pitch, and the sun is at its zenith, I'm quite delighted if I can dig up some weiners, a bun, and some not-too-aged relish. Then I sit on the balcony, the sun in my face, and dig in.

I'm a mustard and relish kind of gal. I need ketchup, bien sur, but there must be lots of mustard and relish. Over the years I've perfected the art of distributing the ketchup, mustard and relish so that I get a bit of each condiment in every juicy bite.

My meal, above, is notable not just for its condiment perfection, but also for being entirely gleaned from the shops around Carling Avenue! The vegetarian hot dog, bun, salad fixings and fruit (papaya and kiwi) are from Produce Depot (my new favourite store), and the soda is from Shopper's Drug Mart. It looked quite enticing - "European Soda frizzante", flavoured with blood oranges. Who could resist? Alas, it tasted just like Orange Crush, albeit a bit less sugary.

No matter, it tasted just right with the hot dog, the accompanying fruits and vegetables made me feel virtuous, and with the warm sun on my face, it made for the perfect early summer meal.

Easter

2010-04-18T21:19:00.010-04:00

The egg-stra special Easter egg hunt!

Now, as I mentioned in my last post, I find Easter to be a fairly stressful holiday. Easter dinner requires cleaning up, lots of cooking, etc etc. So this year I vowed it would be low stress. No hosting dinner - we'd go out to a restaurant with my mother. And no Easter egg hunt for my son, as he would then be nagging me for chocolate for weeks afterwards (this is what happened after Valentine's Day!)

But...but...as the stores filled up with candy, and I recovered from my V-day chocolate rush, I couldn't help but be tempted by those cute little choco eggs and bunnies. And it would be so much fun to have an Easter egg with my son...and some other little kiddies...and to make a party out of it...in our party room (so I didn't have to clean up the apartment!).

And then another thing - the Thursday before Easter my husband and I went for a dee-licious gourmet meal at Burger King with our son. Sounds guaranteed to be fun, right? Um, well, no. My little son, who usually loves french fries and soda, decided he wasn't interested in eating food, and instead amused himself climbing over the benches and tables. Perilous and eminently unsuitable for a restaurant. So my husband declared "no restaurant for Easter dinner!" Hmm...this put a wrench in my Easter dinner plans.

And then I came across a recipe for lamb. Leg of lamb! And then one for some tasty looking soup made out of leeks and young turnips. Now, I've never cooked leg of lamb before, but that's never stopped me from trying something fancy, so I decided, not only to host an Easter egg party, but to also host Easter dinner!

I don't recommend to other pregnant women that they try this.

Anyway, the Easter egg party was loads of fun (and loads of work!). The weather was warm and sunny that day so we had the egg hunt on the rooftop. My friend sent me photos and labelled it "The Sky High Easter Egg Hunt." So cute!

The spread for the Easter egg party - teacakes, mini samosas, crudités, hummus...

Easter dinner was also fun, though I hated having to clean up and cook food! (my husband did most of the cleaning, though). I made simple dishes: turnip and leek soup, scalloped potatoes, asparagus, leg of lamb, and crème caramel for dessert, but it was a lot of work!

The lovely crème caramel, garnished with cape gooseberries

But having Easter dinner at home, with my mother and a good friend, was more special than going out to a restaurant. And then I had lovely leftovers for several days!

Hope your Easter was egg-stra special too!

Shopping notes: the mini samosas, baklava, hummus and pita bread were bought from Damas Grocery on Carling Ave. (on Good Friday, no less, when all the other shops were closed. Another benefit of living in a multicultural society!). Damas also saved my crème caramel on Easter Sunday, when I ran out of sugar! I bought soda and candy for the party at Rexall Drugs on Carling Ave. (also, inexplicably, open on Good Friday).

The young turnips, leeks, asparagus and cape gooseberries were from Produce Depot on Carling Ave, while the lamb, juicy and tender, was from the Butchery in Bells Corners. The choco eggs, chicks and bunnies were from Dollarama (I love that place!), also in Bells Corners. Shopping for Easter food is fun!

Valentine's day

2010-02-19T10:53:00.004-05:00

Well, my favourite holiday has come and gone and, as you can see, I celebrated it in style! Yes, as I have previously mentioned, I love pink, and Valentine's day is the best time to celebrate pink - in all its gooey, fluffy, plush & tinselled glory. Plus it's also about chocolate, and flowers, and cards covered with little hearts...I love it all!

I especially like Valentine's day because, unlike other holidays, there's no pressure. If you want to go all out with candy, flowers, a romantic dinner, expensive jewelry, etc, you can. But if you just want to grab a box of cheap chocos on the way home from work and order a pizza with your loved one, that's all right too. And if you want to fall in line with the legions of Valentine's haters and be mean to everyone that day, nobody will begrudge you that right (as long as you give them some Easter eggs later, to make up for it!).

This is in sharp contrast to holidays like Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter where one has to get together with family, clean the house, produce a big meal, observe piles of traditions, play nice, etc, etc. Now that's work!

So as you can tell, I'm a big fan of Valentine's day.

This year I started my Valentine's day preparations early. This was in part because Valentine's stuff started seeping into the shops around mid-January, just as the tired Christmas merchandise was being slashed to half-price, and in part because my son is in daycare and I wanted him to have Valentines to hand out to his little cohorts. It would have been horrifying to me had he received Valentines, with none to hand back (yes, you can see Valentine's is important to me!).

I wanted (somewhat) non gendered Valentines, so I passed over the superhero and the fairy ones, and instead got some Disney themed ones with cars, fish, and mice on them. Then, at Loblaws on Richmond Rd, I got a box of little cherry créme hearts covered in pink foil (they had to be pink!). I taped these to the Valentines. So cute! My son got a fair share of them to gobble, too. On Valentine's Day I used them to decorate the table, to delightful effect, I think.

A table full of pink prettiness

My next stop, and where I really went crazy on the chocos, was at Carlingwood Mall. This nondescript mall, smack dab on Carling Ave, is populated mostly by senior citizens (you really have to watch them in the parking lot!). They like to wander around and smile at people's babies. There's even a senior's mall walking club! When I was fifteen I worked there in a shoe store and would sell the ugliest (but expensive!) orthopaedic shoes to them.

Now I go there to drool over the most delectable, scrumptious, prettiest cakes in Ottawa - at Swiss Pastries! This store, "Home of the original Black Forest Cake" is iconic for me. Growing up, we would always get a Black Forest Cake for family birthdays. A future post will dwell on this wonderful store at greater length...for now suffice it to say that, after three consecutive parties where I was forced to eat cheap, hydrogenated oil icing cakes, I was desperate for some good cake! So I went to Swiss Pastries looking for a small Black Forest Cake to enjoy for the pre-Valentine's day weekend. Well, they only had a medium sized one so...

But at least it was 10% off!

With the money I saved (a full $2.30) I decided to buy some of the beautiful European chocolates they also had for sale. Well, $40 later I had a box of Mirabell Mozart praliné chocolate balls from Austria, Heidel Praline hearts from Germany, and pink multicolour Maison Pécou chocolate hearts from France (my son picked these out - it was none of my doing!) So droolworthy...

The Heidel chocos actually touched a chord with me, because I bought one of their plain chocolate bars in Frankfurt airport when I was on my way to India. It was tasty, so I wanted to see how their pralines were too. That's a good reason to buy something, right?

And as for that cute little mousey you see in the photo below...well, a few days later, I found myself at Café Délice on Kent St., in downtown Ottawa, where they sell the most delicious Leonidas Belgian chocolates (gee, how'd I manage to wander in here??). While blissing out on some of their fresh cream filled pralines, I fell in love with this little mouse lollipop for my son. I was sure that when I gave it to him he'd say "oooh, t'ank you!" in that adorable little voice of his (he more or less did).

What else would make a Valentine's day smorgasbord complete? A plush toy, of course, and a bottle of bubbly!

But this bubbly, unlike what most enjoy on Valentine's day, was non-alcoholic. Can any of you guess why? That's right, Ms. Foodie is pregnant! Yay!

So that's why I've been AWOL for such a long time on this blog. The exigencies of work, combined with the inability to stay awake past 9:30 pm, have all combined to make blog writing impossible (I used to do all my blog writing late at night, after my son fell asleep).

So in the short term, blog posts will be like hen's teeth for you, my dear readers. But stay faithful and check back every now and then. In a few short months I'll be off work and I can resume both my foodie ramblings and my food shop forays.

Hooray for babies!!

(and hope you had a fun Valentine's day too!)

xoxo Ms. Foodie (plus one)

Pesto

2010-01-24T20:48:00.002-05:00

The Produce Depot on Carling Avenue (near Maitland) is a fabulous place. When you walk in you can just inhale all the fresh fruits and vegetables, waiting limpidly to be picked up by the diverse peoples walking around inside. And by diverse, I mean really diverse - Chinese folk picking over the bok choy with hawk eyes, Indian grannies selecting the finest methi leaves (fenugreek), and Eastern European couples with big-eyed babies picking out green peppers and eggplants. Different languages and accents speckle the air as everybody comes to buy the freshest, cheapest produce this side of Bronson Ave.

I really do think that immigrants are more attracted to this place than to big box stores like Loblaws, which purport to offer everything, but have limp zucchini and tired strawberries. Places like Produce Depot are more like the way one buys fruits and vegetables back home - fresh, fresh, fresh.

How fresh? Well, when I was in India this August, each morning vegetable sellers would bring their carts up and down the street, selling their just-picked wares. My mother in law tells me that many people insist on buying new vegetables each day and refuse to eat anything that has been stored in the fridge for a few days. "They don't like to eat "stale" vegetables," she said.

Oh boy, let's hope they never get a look at the withered specimens in the vegetable bin of my fridge!

Here in the West we have fewer compunctions about this kind of thing. "Convenience", a lack of greengrocers in close proximity to our houses, and our busy, busy schedules mean that most of us buy groceries once a week. And if we manage to use up the lettuce before it rots, we give ourselves a collective pat on the back (at least I do).

Okay, so that's the appeal of Produce Depot. Now what about the pesto I've got up there in the photo? Right, I'm getting to that.

So I was wandering around Produce Depot one day, ogling the wares, and trying to decide if I should buy lychees, rambutans, or longans in addition to the Cape gooseberries, Chilean cherries, and figs that I had in my cart (that's another reason I love this place - exotic fruit!). I passed by the fresh herbs cooler (dill, methi, bean sprouts, enoki mushrooms...and a whole buncha other stuff I couldn't identify) when my eye fell upon the pretty pesto pack you see pictured above. Now, my son loves pesto pasta, so I often buy the bottled kind (being too lazy to make my own). But here was fresh pesto (oh boy, I should have labelled this post "Fresh") and it was "tradizionel"! I had to try it.

A few days later (as my longans slowly went stale in the fridge) I pulled out the pesto and added it to some boiled shell pasta. Some boiled broccoli for colour, some sautéed shrimps for protein, and voila - quasi-tradizionel pesto pasta!

This is a classic recipe I have devised on my own, with no help from anybody (except a nameless website which had a long and complicated recipe that inspired this one, but was actually no good at all).

Like a closer look?

Yummy...now go check out Produce Depot and say hi to the chayotes for me.

Happy munching!

Lunch box

2010-01-24T20:02:00.009-05:00

Now here's something you don't see every day - a stylish pink lunch box! Building on the pink theme of my previous post (I must be getting excited for Valentine's Day!) I now present "Exhibit B" - a zippered lunch box, adorned with florid pink blossoms, enclosing an assortment of inventive pink food containers. Brilliant!

For my birthday this summer, a friend gave me a gift certificate to Chapters bookstore. Looking to spend it one summer day, I visited the Chapters at Pinecrest (which intersects with Carling Ave!). I planned to buy something for my son (virtuous mother that I am), but instead my eye bespied this cute bag.

This delightful invention goes by the moniker of "Laptop Lunches" (their website can be found here ). The point of the Laptop Lunch is to reduce garbage resulting from packed/bought lunches. Think about it - little plastic baggies, plastic wrap, paper napkins, plastic yoghurt cups, spoons, etc - and that's just from a packed lunch! And then consider the garbage associated with bought fast food lunches: styrofoam containers, glass/plastic bottles, plastic cutlery, paper bags and wrap...the list just goes on and on. And so, in my sporadic attempt to be a responsible consumer, I decided to try this fancy lunch box (okay, I wanted to show off at work too!).

Why "Laptop" lunch? Well, that comes from the nifty zippered case. It's insulated, has a rubber label (in the shape a flower, naturally) and a carrying strap, so it looks like a slim computer carrying case.

Check it out packed with food, in all its glory:

A gourmet summer's lunch: vegetable briyani, salad with yellow tomatoes, watermelon cubes, apple compote. Lucky me!

It was pricey - $45 - but I rationalized it by thinking of all the money I'd save by not buying my lunch (I can rationalize buying anything, especially if it's pink!). Plus, by packing lots of fruits and vegetables in, I'd lose weight and become so healthy!

Uh, well, that last bit didn't happen, and I do keep buying lunches often, so the first bit didn't exactly either, but I'm sure I made my lunch a few more times than I would have ordinarily, so I'm sure I've got my money back, at least.

Plus it's so cute!

Salt

2010-01-24T17:17:00.007-05:00

No, this isn't an entry about Angelina's new movie, which apparently just wrapped up filming in New York. This is about that much more plebeian substance, essential for life, overused in food processing, and elevated to an art by the Victoria Gourmet company of Woburn, Massachusetts. What did Woburn ever contribute to fine dining? Well, this salt apparently!

Sourced from the Murry River, "fed by the Australian Alps,", I must say this is the first pink salt I have ever seen! I love pink in all forms (mainly clothes and cupcakes) but never thought I'd be able to enjoy my predilection for pink via a jar of salt. Wrong!

I came across this pretty morsel at Winner's, a high end discount clothing store that sells gourmet odds and ends as well. "Finishing salt" I mused, when I saw it. I didn't know what that meant, but one can always use salt (the same can't be said for some of my other foodie finds) and it was, after all, pink, so I felt I couldn't go wrong.

Well, I was right!

The stuff can't be used the same as regular salt. No, it really is best sprinkled on foods, for a "subtle, fleeting crunch" as the label boasts. My favourite way to use it is on pan-fried Rainbow trout (from Loblaws on Richmond Rd, which intersects with Carling Ave, so there's the tie in to my blog's theme!). The tender flesh of the trout, the "subtle fleeting crunch" of the salt, offset by some meaty mushrooms in the rice pilaf and a few juicy asparagus spears...mm, there's a lunch worthy of a queen. Victoria would be proud!

Idlis

2009-10-11T22:22:00.006-04:00

Yes, it's true - I am a recalcitrant blogger. It's been ages since I last wrote, but I can assure you I have been thinking lots about posting. So, on that vein, here are the pics I've been wanting to post for months!

Here we have some banana leaf plates - the usual thing used for a plate in South India. Following the lavish wedding in Bangalore, we had a "Homa Puja" at my inlaw's house in Mysore. I was, of course, most interested in breakfast; meals are a perpetual worry for me when travelling, as mealtimes rarely coincide with the rumblings of my tummy. I usually carry a surfeit of granola bars, but on this trip, for some reason, they eluded me (once I was back in Canada I found a stash of them, carefully placed in the outer pocket of one of the suitcases - I could have sworn I looked everywhere!)

The meal was catered - here is a photo of the caterer.

What, you expected him to wear a tuxedo and carry a little white towel? This is India, people! A Brahmin priest, he was quite bemused to have me taking his photo.

The idlis were tasty...but everytime I bit into one, ravenous, my husband called me back to the puja....sigh.

Scrumptious halvah finished off my hasty meal.

Lunch, served later in the day, was lavish. I, however, had to gulp it down too, as we had to get ready for our trip back to Bangalore. So much lovely food - so very little time!

Bananas

2009-08-18T12:09:00.004-04:00

The best thing about visiting a tropical country? Tropical fruit, of course! On this trip I had, alas, missed the peak of the mango season, but there were still plenty of fruits available for me to savour.

One of my favourites is tiny bananas. I am sure there is some proper name for them, and one of these days I will find out what it is, but until then I will call the cute things "tiny bananas" cuz that's what they are.

Tiny bananas are quite unlike the large bananas we get in the grocery store back home. the flavour is tangy and the texture denser. Because they're small, I need to eat 3 or 4 to get my fill and feel like I've properly "had a banana". Luckily they come in big bunches so that's not hard to do.

If you want to try them in Ottawa, visit Sree Fresh Grocery near Carling (of course!) or Thana Grocers on Bank St. Both are Sri Lankan groceries and carry fruit imported from India.

Note the mehndi on my hand - this is left over from the wedding, as is the bouquet of flowers

Back here in Bangalore we are staying with my husband's aunt. She has a sizeable retinue of servants so, one morning when we were out of bananas, I had my husband ask the servant to go get some more. For some reason my husband gave him 100 rupees (about $2.50 Cdn, a sizeable sum) which was far more than the bananas were likely to cost. I thought the servant might make off with the change so I urged my husband to give him a smaller bill. However, he brushed me off.

As I expected, things did go wrong, but not quite in the direction I had anticipated: the servant, honest soul that he was, did use the money for its intended purpose, buying about two kilograms of bananas! Now, much as I love bananas, that's more than even I could eat. Plus, we were leaving that night for Hyderabad. But I guess somehow the bananas got eaten, as when we came back there were only two withered specimens left.

That reminds me, I'm hungry...time for dinner and a post dinnertime banana snack!

Reception

2009-08-11T03:39:00.011-04:00

If you've ever been to an Indian wedding, you know just how spectacular it can be. Prior to this

trip to India, I had only been to one Indian wedding - my own. Although it had a "mere" 500

guests, it was plenty lavish enough for me.

But now that I have attended my husband's cousin's wedding (1600 people! 3 days!) I realise just how lavish a "grand" Indian wedding can be. The highlight for me was of course...getting dressed up in a sparkly sari! I know, you're surprised I didn't say it was the food, but really, Indian clothes are so beautiful, and I had a wonderful turquoise and gold sequined sari (courtesy of my generous aunt-in-law). My son also wore a beautiful aqua kurta, bought for him by his great aunt. I love it when our clothes match - so cute!

The food was, of course, also fabulous. If you're wondering how 1600 people get fed over the course of a few hours I have one word - a big dining hall! Unlike a Western wedding which has a formal sit down meal, meals at Indian weddings are eaten throughout the evening. The upper part of the reception hall is for photographing and mingling, then the lower part has the dining hall. Usually there are long tables set up with banana leaves for plates, but this wedding had food stalls which guests would visit with their plates, and then eat standing up.

The variety of food items was staggering: indoors there were North Indian stalls, South Indian stalls, a chaat table, a sweets table, and a table with a quirky display of carved vegetables (including a crocodile made out of bitter melon!). Guests arriving at the wedding received a menu card (which I lost, alas) and a glass of sugarcane juice or lime juice to refresh them.

Ms. Foodie looking dazzling next to the carved fruit and vegetables table

Outside the reception hall there was a series of stalls with varied items like freshly pressed sugarcane juice (likely to cause Delhi belly, but I had to taste it - it was pure heaven!), a chocolate fountain (albeit with Hershey's chocolate syrup and hence not all that tasty), fruit and cheese kebabs (an odd combination, I thought), and pani puri (little fried shells filled with tamarind juice, again a wee bit odd to my taste). Shortly after the reception started I wandered around the outside stalls with my baby to sample the wares. With all the flowers and the sparkling lights on the reception hall, I felt like I was at a carnival! It was really festive and fun, but alas it started raining heavily so the stalls were abandoned a short while later.

Needless to say, trying to eat this glorious food while wearing a heavy sari and running after a rambunctious baby was a little trying. I did manage to get him fed without doing any damage to my sari, but it was only later in the evening that I was able to enjoy my meal in a leisurely manner (my husband took the baby!) and take some photos for you, my dear readers.

If I could remember all the things I ate, I would surely be eligible for some kind of reward. But I can't, so I'll just post the pics of my favourite items. The best part...dessert, of course! Dessert consisted of jilebis and dry fruit burfi. Jilebis are, of course, my favourite Indian sweet, but the dry fruit burfi (burfi is similar to fudge) was new to me. It tasted richly of figs, dates, whole milk and ghee. A little tangy and not cloyingly sweet like most Indian sweets, it was a welcome discovery.

The masala dosai also deserves a shout out. A classic South Indian dish made of fermented rice flour, it is similar to a tangy crepe, and is filled with a curried potato mixture. I have eaten many good masala dosais recently, but these were exquisite. The dosai was nicely crispy and the potato mixture perfectly spiced. On a side note, the servers were delighted to have me taking their photos. I guess they aren't used to getting any attention at these functions!

My only complaint about the food at the wedding? I wish I could have spirited all the dishes home to Canada with me, to be enjoyed at leisure and untainted by jet lag. Then I would have really had my fill. But, that's what Indian weddings are like - chaotic, colourful, busy, and glorious!

In India

2009-08-06T23:15:00.003-04:00

Dear Readers,

I am here to tell you that eating idli and coconut chutney off a banana leaf while a sweet little baby is running around, can wreak havoc on your sequined salwar kamees. Now you can't say you weren't warned!

What am I talking about? Dear readers, I am in India! I came here 2 days ago for a family wedding (my husband's cousin) and have spent the last few days adjusting (fyi, jet lag is even worse when you've got a toddler who won't sleep when you need him to!). Also did some fabulous shopping yesterday with a heap of cash given to me by my darling aunt-in-law!

The food has been stellar - my aunt in law has hired Brahmin chefs (bare-chested, naturally) to cook for all the various events. Yesterday there was an assortment of delicious chopped spiced salads, vegetable curry (a soupy one), rice, and rasam (a very soupy lentil dish for which I have little admiration). This morning, though, has been the best. The ceremonies are starting today at the groom's house (where I am staying) and the chefs have dished up idli (fermented rice cake), coconut chutney, halvah and the requisite tiny cups of South Indian coffee. It's served on a coconut leaf (traditional) in a stainless steel plate (thali). Once I sequestered myself in my room (the marauding baby wouldn't let me eat) I was able to properly appreciate the food. The idli was exquisite - studded with chunks of fresh coconut, curry leaves and spices. The coconut chutney was also delectable. The halvah, made with semolina and lots of ghee, was a revelation, rich with butter and cardamom....oooh...I could eat mountains of it, but I have to save space for the next meal.

And now I have to go bathe my baby! I will post more on my culinary flights while I am here, depending on the time available, and whether the electricity remains constant!

Happy (sambar) dreams to you!

ps. no photos for you cuz my camera is broken! Who - who comes to India with a broken digital camera! Oh I hope they can fix it soon...

Birch

2009-07-24T22:59:00.007-04:00

We're all familiar with maple syrup - and it's wonderful stuff! But here's a new addition to the breakfast pantheon - birch syrup!

While perusing the wares and Thyme and Again, a local Ottawa catering company, I came across this intriguing product. I was tempted, but it was awfully expensive ($17.50 Cdn for 125 ml, if you really must know!) But then, happily, I remembered that I was going to a wedding shower and the organizer had asked guests to bring "an exotic food item and one inexpensive kitchen gadget" in lieu of the usual wedding shower gifts. So now I had a perfect excuse to buy it! So I got one for my friend...and then I had to get one for myself! (purely for research purposes, you know).

Last weekend I cracked open my bottle of birch syrup, having some old toaster waffles I thought I should dispatch. First I tasted it on a spoon. Hmm...it is tasty and sweet (they've added fructose)...and a little bitter. The taste is woodsy and earthy...you can really taste the tree in it! The colour is darker than maple syrup, and the reason for the steep price is apparent when you consider that it takes 80-100 litres of birch sap to make this syrup! By contrast, it takes "only" 20-40 litres of sap to make maple syrup!

I like the taste, and I like the fact that it is an exotic Canadian food product (made in Thunder Bay!) The website of the manufacturer (http://www.birchsyrup.ca) also lists several interesting looking recipes. I liked one for ricotta birch syrup cake. I have the syrup and I have ricotta so...we will see how it turns out!

Okay, now I have to confess that Thyme and Again is not on Carling Ave, but it is on Wellington St. West, which is close to Richmond Road, which intersects with Carling and...there you go!

Keep on slurping!

Back to (paid) work

2009-06-25T13:22:00.002-04:00

Dear Readers,

It's a wonderful time to be living at Carling & Bayshore. The air is full of drifting poplar fluff, the trees are lush and leafy, the golden sunshine warms the skin, and flowers and blossoming trees scent the air. And the bay - oh the bay! Britannia Bay is blue and sparkling, and the white sails of the boats float lazily by, inspiring countless dreams of travels to far away lands...

But my time to enjoy all these delights is down to just a few hours a day as, alas, I am back at my job. Yes, I have been swallowed up into Ottawa's federal bureaucratic infrastructure, and it's back to cubicle land for me. At least the days are long, so my little baby and I are enjoying the playgrounds and parks in the evenings (and are discovering new ones all the time!)

However, my free time is now even more squeezed and my blogging time much reduced (in case you hadn't noticed by the duration between my last few posts!). So I am writing to let you know that my service standards are going down - I will now try to put up a post every two weeks instead of once a week. But fret not - my posts will still have the same rambling charm and feckless disregard for brevity that have characterized my blog up to now.

Keep on munching!

Mr. Pie & BBQ

2009-06-25T09:38:00.012-04:00

Moving to a new place is such a disorienting experience. Even if it's an area you know well, it still feels as though everything is seen from a new angle. Zipping down a street in a car gives a far different impression than walking through it slowly with a baby in a stroller. In a new place, every stone, bush and passing pedestrian are notable and demand careful scrutiny; even the cracks in the sidewalk are something to be contemplated. Establishing new signposts and paths take time, and everything feels foreign and mysterious.

It was in this spirit that I found myself gazing upon the red neon sign of "Mr. Pie & BBQ" during the first few days of our residency at Carling & Bayshore. I found the name intriguing - what did it mean? Who was this mysterious Mr. Pie? Who would call himself Mr. Pie? Was he an older man with a white moustache and thick sideburns? Did he walk with a limp? And what about his sidekick BBQ? Was he perhaps a youngish fellow with a shaggy hairdo, faded plaid shirt and ripped jeans? What had brought these two unlikely souls together?

And what kind of shop could it possibly be? A hardware store? Drycleaner? It was open late, so that suggested some nefarious purpose; perhaps a bar or some gang hideout. But then reason reasserted itself; if the store had a nefarious purpose it would not be placed on a busy street with neon signs. So then, it likely served some gastronomic function. Yes, that was it. So it was food related. But what?

After mulling it over I decided it was a Korean BBQ. "Mr. Pie" sounded like an anglicized version of a Korean name and, from a lack of imagination, he had tacked on the BBQ bit to denote his specialty. I was excited. I like Korean food and envisioned bright red kimchi bits, smoke, sizzling meat, and delicate morsels of white rice in a tiny bowl.

After a week or so, when wandering home from a shopping spree at Damas Supermarket, I decided to check out Mr. Pie.

To my extreme disappointment, it turned out to be a shawarma shop! Not another shawarma shop! How boring! How overdone! There was already a shawarma shop up the street - Shawarma Palace - and, as far as I was concerned, that was quite enough for this stretch of Carling. Shawarma Palace has delectable, juicy chicken shawarma, and a good range of side dishes and drinks. It is actually a cousin of the Shawarma Palace on Rideau St, which I have previously mentioned, and is of a similarly high quality. Why did we need another shawarma shop on Carling?

It seemed, however, that this new one was trying to put a different spin on things; on the menu board they showed an assortment of Lebanese pies: beef, spinach, chicken, and cheese (hence the name "Mr. Pie, I concluded). I love Lebanese spinach pies (fatayer) so was mollified that at least I now had a ready source of those. But when I asked the man at the counter for one, I was told that they no longer carried the pies!

So then I got pretty angry. "But why?" I asked. "Your name says "Mr. Pie and BBQ!" "Yeah, I know," he said, "but the pies, they were not selling". So we are going to change the name. Nobody knows what it means. So we are changing it to Shawarma House."

Shawarma House? Boring upon boring! Why not just call it "Shawarma Shawarma" or "Shawarma Blah Blah" and be done with it?

I was sad. The mystery was gone. There was no Korean gentleman dishing up bulgogi or bibimbap. There were no pies. And soon, there would not even be the alluring neon sign left to look upon.

A few weeks later Mr. Pie and BBQ was officially gone, and in its place was a boring red "Shawarma House" sign. I've forgiven the shopkeepers for leading me on, and I have gotten food there a few times (it's only okay - not nearly as good as Shawarma Palace; but then you wouldn't expect a "House" to have as good food as a "Palace", now would you?) but I still mourn the old Mr. Pie & BBQ.

I'm getting over it, though. There are other places to discover, other food shops to explore, and other other foody mysteries to unveil, all along this great avenue called Carling.

A Lebanese pie (not from Mr. Pie and BBQ!) (source: http://zestycook.com/a-lebanese-treat-fatayer/)

Ube

2009-05-28T12:15:00.015-04:00

On a cold March day I bundled up my baby, buckled him onto my chest, and headed down Carling Avenue. My destination was Reette’s Foods, a Philipino grocery store located near Carling and Ritchie St. I was in search of ‘coconut bun”, a Philipino white flour treat that I had bought there once before, and for which I had a certain hankering.

You may recall that in my post on chickoos I referred to Sree Fresh Grocery as “unprepossessing.” Well, to call Reette’s Foods unprepossessing would be to pay it a lavish compliment. It is in a small dingy white building with one window boarded up, a weedy maple growing through a crack in the cement, and crumbling steps leading to a barred door. The plain handpainted sign on the building gives no clue as to what kind of foods it sell, and looking at the building you can hardly tell if it is open or abandoned.

Handmade signs in the window list their offerings: goat meat, goat foot, cow foot, king mackerel, tilapia, ox-tail, and so on. For this reason, the first few times I passed by the building I thought it was a butcher’s shop. I am Hindu, so was hardly tempted to step in. While I have no objection to people eating beef, it makes me cringe to see the stuff in its raw form. In fact, I once teased my (Hindu vegetarian) mother in law by telling her I was taking her there to eat (our destination was actually Ceylonta, the Sri Lankan restaurant next door). I think she was horrified to even be standing next to a sign that said “cow foot”!

One day last November, however, I did step in just to see what they sold. To my surprise, it was a well stocked grocery store with a wide array of Asian vegetables, noodles, tinned fruit, lentils, baked goods, candies, and Philipino curry sauces and pastes. And instead of a glass case full of staring red beef parts, all the meats were frozen and discreetly stored in a large freezer. Phewf!

The shopkeeper was a pleasant Philipino lady who was intently watching an evangelical Christian television show when she wasn’t serving customers. The inside of the store was as dingy as the outside, and it had an untidy, disorganized air; but the wealth of exotic food products delighted me (chick peas in syrup! Halo-halo!) I perused all the offerings, recognizing some products I often see at Grace Ottawa, a Philipino-African grocery store downtown.

On this March visit they didn’t have any coconut buns. “My husband will bring some from Toronto next week,” the shopkeeper promised. "Come back next Tuesday." So I had to look for something else to satisfy my sugar fix. There were lots of interesting products there, and, while restraining my baby's little paws from grabbing the glass jars, I also had to restrain myself from buying some weird and wonderful thing that would sit in my cupboards for years before I was forced to throw it away because I had no idea what to do with it. And so I decided to buy some “ube cake”.

Now, I had no idea what ube was, how it’s used, or where it comes from. But, I reasoned, if it’s in a cake it must be safe, right? It’s not like they would make a cake with something scary like, oh I don’t know, beef bone flavouring or ox-tail icing, would they? And anyway, the picture on the package showed a very normal looking small loaf cake in a pleasant shade of purple.

Further poking around the store revealed packets of “ube sauce” with a picture of a purplish tuber on them. From this I surmised that ube is purple yam, which was a relief. While we in the West tend to eat yams and beans in savoury dishes, in Asia they are just as often eaten sweet in buns, ice cream, shaved ice drinks, and many other weird and wonderful combinations.

As is my wont, I cracked open the package and started munching as soon as I was out of the door. It was likely baked in some kind of mold, as the outside was brown, while the inside of the cake was a beautiful purple. The cake had a pleasant aroma with a mild sweet taste and a light and airy texture. My baby liked it too, and munched off a piece as we tromped down Carling Avenue in the cold sunshine. Overall it was a pleasant tea cake that I would certainly try again. After all, how often does one get to eat purple cake?

Well, upon later researching ube on the internet I realised that, if you are Philipino, you get to eat purple cake all the time! To my surprise, googling “ube cake” brought up a multitude of photos of lush purple cakes, resplendent with florid purple icing and interspersed with layers of macapuno (young coconut flesh) cream. Wow! How have I lived so much of my life without eating an ube layer cake? Judging from the number and variety of photos, ube chiffon cake seems to be as common as chocolate cake in the Philipines, and probably more so.

Oooh baby, get me a piece of that ube cake! (source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/20358768@N00/1334120276/)

Clearly, I need to find a Philipino friend who will make me an ube cake. Or maybe I’ll just head back to Reette’s, chat with the nice shopkeeper, and get all the ingredients there. Just goes to show – don’t let a store’s exterior fool you!

Update on Reette's: on a recent visit I was pleased to see that the weedy maple had been uprooted and the glass had been replaced in the boarded up window. It turns out that the store is under new management and they plan to rename it "R&V Store", with a nice new painted sign with vegetables on it. So now passers by may actully realise that there is a fun grocery store in their midst!

Jaggery

2009-05-18T12:14:00.011-04:00

Have you ever crunched into a stalk of fresh sugarcane? If you have, you know how delicious that rush of sugary juice is - fresh and healthy tasting, the best stuff on earth. Now, you might be forgiven for thinking that you'd get a similar rush from sucking on a white sugarcube. Wrong!

White sugar, though so many tasty things are made from it, is bleached and robbed of all its vitamins, nutrients and, yes, flavour. Brown sugar is slightly better, with its more robust flavour, but if you want to eat real sugar, nothing compares to the real stuff - jaggery.

I know you're thinking - awesome name - but what is it? Well, jaggery is the Hindi name for crystallized pure sugar cane juice. That's right - they crush the cane, extract the juice, boil it in big iron pots, pour it into molds where it solidifies and - poof! The finished product is used extensively in Indian cooking (both sweets and savoury items) and in religious rituals (yes, that's how much it's valued).

Jaggery making in India (www.pbase.com/digitalfestival/image/49013894)

And how is white sugar made? Well, after extracting the juice, chemicals (Calcium carbonate, carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, lime,) are added “to trap particulate matter so it can be filtered out”. Then, “the golden liquid is passed through bone char (activated charcoal made from beef bones), which removes the color left by dissolved impurities.” (Sounds yum, no?)

Finally, “the solution is boiled under pressure, crystallized again, centrifuged and tumbled with a flow of hot air in a granulator, from which the final product emerges.” (source: Chesapeake Baby Journal http://www.bayjournal.com/article.cfm?article=1182) If sparkling white sugar isn’t a priority for you, and you’re not crazy about the thought of those charred beef bones, you may think that brown sugar is a better choice. Wrong! “Brown sugar is simple white sugar with a bit of molasses added back in, or coloured with caramel.” (http://www.wholife.com/issues/10_1/02_article.html). Drat.

So what’s a Hindu foodie like moi to do? Munch off some jaggery of course! Actually, my political stance about white sugar is a recent development. When I wandered into Vaishali Superstore the other day, looking for a sugar hit, I was only curious to be reminded of what jaggery tastes like. It was only while doing research for this blog post that I learned about the dark secret behind the sparkling white stuff..

I first tasted jaggery when my mother in law was here after my baby's birth; she used jaggery in her cooking and, sampling some one day, I was blown away by the flavour. Jaggery comes in cones, loaves, and chunks. So, recently, I bought some chunked jaggery, and tried it as soon as I got home. The flavour was just amazing. As it melted in my mouth I could feel the sunshine and the cane leaves rustling. I tell you, dear reader, it was as flavoursome and satisfying as a piece of fudge.

Curious about this wonderful stuff, I did some research about it on the internet. I discovered that, not only is jaggery an important part of Indian cooking, it is also extolled by Ayurvedic medicine as a cure for respiratory and digestive problems. It contains proteins, minerals and vitamins, is a source of iron, and has a higher iron and copper content than white sugar (naturally, cuz those pesky “impurities” haven’t been filtered out yet). Interesting fact: white sugar is 99.5 percent sucrose while jaggery is 65-85% sucrose.

On Western websites, the words used to define jaggery are telling - "coarse", "unrefined". White sugar on the other hand, is "refined" and "pure", with all its "impurities" removed. This says a great deal about the way white sugar is valued over the natural product.

Now, of course, jaggery is still a simple carbohydrate and so should be eaten in moderation. But wouldn’t you rather eat something full of vitamins and nutrients rather than something that has had all its goodness blasted away by chemical treatments, bleach, centrifuging and beef bones? Icky poo.

So over the next few months I will be experimenting with ways to substitute jaggery for white sugar. I will let you know how I do! Until then, I leave you with one delightful way to use jaggery. It’s tasty and good for a cough, cold or when you need some warming. As per my no-recipe policy, it is short: take a big hunk of ginger and grate it. Take three cups of water and a chunk of jaggery and combine everything in a pot. Boil away until the liquid has reduced by about half. Glug it all off (including the grated ginger). Savour.

Update on the beef bone char issue: I checked the websites of the brand of sugar I am currently using (Redpath) and it says that they do not use animal bones for filtering the sugar. Instead they use cloth filters (and they have photos on the site to prove it). Phewf!

Miami

2009-04-17T00:54:00.014-04:00

Ah, Miami! Land of sun gods, a vibrant Cuban community, salsa music, sunburnt beaches, hedonism, and palm trees, palm trees, palm trees...

I had less than a day in Miami, but I had great plans for my time there - bask on the dazzling beach, see some art deco hotels on Ocean Drive (and I was staying in one too - lucky me!), visit little Havana, do a little shopping...and eat a meal in a sizzling restaurant, of course! A few years ago I had actually concocted a little fantasy about eating at a restaurant in Miami: it would be somewhere lively and chic. There would be dim lights, waving palm trees, Latin music, and it would be hot, hot, hot. A handsome man (preferably my husband) would give me smouldering glances, and I would be wearing a fabulous dress.

Well, at least the last part was right! As is usual when trying to live out a fantasy, things didn't go quite as planned... I arrived there pooped after the long bus ride, rested with my baby, explored the art deco hotels (wow!) and the beach (double wow!) then got dressed for dinner. It was late by then, around 8:30, and my baby was giving indications he wanted to go to bed. I ignored them (he could sleep in the baby carrier if he needed to) and headed out into the night. I walked past the palm trees, by the jasmine bushes, and marveled at the sight of the art deco hotels by night, glittering with neon lights. Ah, I thought...this is what I came here for.

My hotel had recommended a restaurant and I went there, but it was not as stylish as I wanted. I hopped in a cab and headed off to another one I had seen advertised in a tourist flyer - A Fish Called Avalon (great name!) on Ocean Drive. It turned out to be in the Avalon hotel (makes sense) but it didn't have many people there so I decided to keep walking and explore the other restaurants on the strip. All of them were attached to art deco hotels but my guidebook had warned me not to eat at any of them. Overpriced, overrated, with "carnival style barkers trying to

Image by zacklur via Flickr Image by zacklur via Flickr

lure you in with plates of congealed food". True, true, all true. But the energy of this strip is awesome!

Restaurants crowded the sidewalks, people laughed and preened; the neon lights beamed, and the scent of wine and food filled the air. Vintage cars were parked outside of some of them, for show, and tourists and clubkids zipped by in others. And on the other side of all this colour and mayhem? Palm trees swayed along a thin strip of grass, the wind swept over the cool dark beach, and the waves of the empty ocean roared.

I wandered along, trying to decide at which of these carnivals to eat. Finally, my baby decided for me - one of them had Latin music playing and he started to dance and grin in his baby carrier. "Okay", I said, "you convinced me!"

The restaurant was Quinn's at the Park Central Hotel and proved to be a great place to people watch - albeit I spent most of my time watching my baby, as he was running around like a madman. I ordered a strawberry daiquiri for me and a (non-alcoholic) one for him. In between gulps I ran around after him, trying to keep him from hurtlng into the traffic of Ocean Drive, or careening into the pool. Finally my food came - seafood with linguine in a white wine cream sauce. I hoped my baby would settle into his high chair and eat (he likes pasta) but, alas, no such luck. I was desperate to eat as I hadn't had any lunch, so, with him squiggling on my lap, I shovelled forkfuls of linguine into my mouth.

Finally I was able to convince him to try a few noodles, and he simmered down. Phewf! I ate quickly (you have to when you have a kid) and found it very tasty. Big shrimps, plump mussels and...what was that? A lobster claw and half-tail on the shell? Hmm...

In case you ever wondered if it was possible to crack open a lobster claw one-handed, with a baby in your lap, I am here to tell you it is not possible. No, it really cannot be done, though I did spend a few moments pondering if I could.

I like lobster, I really do, so I did manage to pry the tail out of the shell with a quick movement, and eat some of it. But I decided not to even attempt the claw. Better to have the staff do it, and take it back to the hotel to eat. By this point my baby was bored with the noodles, so I had given him a small amount of his strawberry daiquiri to drink. This proved to be a big mistake.

I was munching contentedly (though quickly) on the lobster tail when I suddenly felt something was wrong.

Have you ever had a baby pee on you? I have, and it feels warm and wet. This however, was cold and wet. Yes, that's right. My baby had upended his daiquiri in my lap. He looked as surprised as I did. I sighed.

I want to be a good example to my baby, so I always try to stay composed in front of him, no matter how stressed I get. So, calmly (albeit with another sigh) I mopped up the drink from my expensive silk dress and off his new shirt. This was clearly a signal that dinner was over, so I asked for the cheque and a doggy bag. So I did get my exciting dinner in Miami, but not quite as I had planned!

I paid my bill, glugged off the rest of my drink in the comfort of the lobby (where my baby could run around) and then popped him into his baby carrier. Luckily he fell asleep soon after, so I was able to walk down Ocean Drive by night and peacefully admire the fantastical neon lights of the hotels.

The next morning I enjoyed a complimentary breakfast on the front porch of my hotel, then walked along Ocean Drive to glory in the hotels by day. Then it was time for a quick dip in the ocean before rushing out to the airport for my flight back to Orlando.

In all, I had a few short hours in Miami, but they were memorable. Miami is dazzling!

Club Med

2009-04-17T00:01:00.012-04:00

Two more posts about Florida, dear readers, and then it's back to our regularly scheduled local programming...unless of course I decide to blog about my upcoming trip to New York city! (I leave tomorrow. Hmm...)

After Orlando I visited the Club Med Sandpiper near West Palm Beach. The best way to enjoy Club Med? With a frosty drink in hand, lounging by the pool! During my stay I imbibed many of the concoctions in the bar, and I have to say they were great. I have stayed at other resorts in the Caribbean, and found the drinks all tasted the same - rum and some pink or orange slush. Here they had a variety of alcohols and a variety of tasty juices. My baby got addicted to these drinks too (leading to devastating results in Miami as you shall soon find out) - the non-alcoholic variety, of course!

Mango-strawberry daiquiri slushy - yum!

The meals were also of wonderful quality - everything was fresh and beautiful. For lunch and dinner I enjoyed nice salads, succulent fish with tasty sauces, and a variety of vegetable dishes. I always overreat at buffets, and this one was no exception. And usually I feel stuffed and bloated after them. But here, I ate my fill but felt light and satisfied at the end. Very strange! I think they cook with less oil and fresher ingredients than other places. Yay! The desserts were great too - the first night I went ga-go over them: a meringue pie with chocolate mousse, a chocolate mousse pie, a chocolate mousse cake, and little chocolate mousse tarts.

Alas, by the dessert stage, my baby had lost patience with eating and just wanted to play. So I took my desserts "to go" (they generously provided paper plates for this purpose) and later that night I tucked into them after my baby had fallen asleep. With a juicy novel (set in Miami's South Beach, no less!) I was all set for some late night decadence. But by the third chocolate mousse dessert I had to say - too much chocolate mousse! (never thought it could happen to me). Okay, so there was a lack of creativity that night, but other meals had a diverse array of delectable treats.

Here's a sample from lunch on day 3 - tiny little lemon meringue tarts, florentine cakes dipped in chocolate, lemon square, choco frosted cupcake and cheesecake.

What is it about tiny desserts that makes them so enticing to eat?

Up close and personal with a lemon meringue tartlet

Breakfasts were also sublime, with fresh fruit, delicious omelettes to order, pancakes, french toast, bacon, and all the other breakfast staples. They had icky table syrup for the pancakes (no maple syrup, alas) but they also had some charming preserves with tiny strawberries thatI found entrancing. I also enjoyed the stewed prunes they had - I know many people despise prunes (a la Virginia Woolf!), but I actually like their tangy taste and squishy texture.

It was a bit rough managing the dining hall alone with my baby; pushing a stroller and balancing a plate is a bit tough when you only have two hands. It was easier if I used my baby carrier (two free hands!) but he didn't have the patience to sit for long, so I had to eat quickly. Still, things were okay the first 3 days. By the last day, however, he refused to sit still for any meal at all, and I really had to wolf down my food if I was to get any nourishment at all!

Overall, though, it was a wonderful visit and I recommend going there if you have the chance. Save me a mojito!

Wish I was swimming here right now...

Coming soon...Miami!

Floribbean Cuisine

2009-04-13T00:13:00.004-04:00

Dear Foodies,

I had a great time on my Florida trip and, contrary to my expectations, I actually had some good culinary adventures! I had read in the guidebooks about "Floribbean cuisine" - a blend of Floridian and Caribbean flavours and cooking styles, and hoped I might come across some in my travels. Floribbean combines Caribbean tastes and flavours with the lighter cooking styles of Florida. For example, it eschews deep fried, lardy, starchy Latino delights in favour of steaming, sauteeing, fresh fruits and vegetables, citrus, spice, and other flavours fresh and nice.

My first food adventure came soon after my arrival in Orlando. I checked into my hotel, felt delighted that it was so nice and had such wonderful landscaping (palm trees! oleanders! hibiscus!), and then went in search of food. Due to my late night packing and the rigours of travelling with a young child I had a headache, my eyes burned and I was achingly tired. I just wanted to eat some lunch and collapse into bed. I hoped that my baby would concur with this plan and take a nap too...

As my taxi pulled into the hotel I had seen a restaurant right beside it - Pollos Mario. Pollos means chicken in Spanish, and there was an appetizing smell of barbeque in the air, so I had a hunch I had stumbled onto something good. "Comida tipica Latinoamericana" (dishes typical of Latin America) proclaimed the menu. That suited me just fine. I had expected a Disney-like homogeneity throughout Orlando, forgetting that the Hispanic influence in Florida is just as strong as ol' Walt's tentacles - if a bit more dispersed.

The waitress spoke to me in Spanish, which tickled me, because I can speak it a bit, and also because I love being mistaken for a "local" (when I was in Cuba, people kept asking me if I was from Mexico; they knew I wasn't Cuban because I wasn't wearing neon lycra!) The restaurant had the feel of a ranch house courtyard with tiled floor, a plastic orange tree in the centre, and lanterns on the booths. Photo taken from a "Chow Hound" review of the restaurant - Orlando Sentinel website

The menu had pictures, which I love, so instead of ordering the barbequed chicken which had smelt so appetizing, I decided to order a dish of sauteed red snapper, because it looked so beautiful. I was spending two nights in Orlando, so I reasoned that I could have chicken the next night.

I ordered guanabana (soursop) juice with high hopes (Azteca restaurant in Ottawa used to have amazing guanabana juice) but this one turned out to be just a sweet tasteless slushie. When the fish arrived, though, it made up for all shortcomings. It looked outstanding!

"Wow!" I said, dazzled by the sight: on a large oval platter rested a whole red snapper. To the north of the fish (which really deserved its own time zone, it was so large) was a pile of halved redskin potatoes. To the west of the potatoes poked out some yucca spears; to the south, several halved plantains ruled supreme - starchy and ponderous. The entire terrain was bathed in a thick yellow sauce studded with chopped tomatoes and cilantro. Colour, shape, form, and aroma all abounded on my plate. Oh, what a sight!

I regretted that I hadn't brought my camera to record this beautiful dish, but I was too pooped to go and get it. Plus, it would have been a pity to let this feast get cold! So I decided to just dig in and enjoy. First, though, I buckled my baby into the colourful high chair and gave him rice, sauce and a little fish. He happily gobbled it up, but refused the other starches.

The serving plate was too crowded to eat off, and I hadn't been given any other plate, so I cleared some space on the rice platter and put sauce and some fish on it. I was sure it couldn't taste as good as it looked, but...oh dear reader, it was!

The fish was tender, the rice perfectly cooked, and the sauce...well, it was what a sauce is meant to be. Thick, flavourful, fragrant...chunks of tomato offering up some texture, it was a perfect complement to the fish. I ate hurriedly at first - I was so hungry! Later, when my hunger was sated I lingered over each mouthful, trying to identify the flavours. Saffron? Maybe. Onion? Certainly. But apart from that I really couldn't tell. So I stopped wondering and just gave myself up to enjoying the food.

Dear reader, I ate half the fish! I also ate a goodly portion of the yucca, potato and plantain. The potato was tender and delicious, but I wasn't so crazy about the yucca or the plantain. Perhaps it is my Anglo roots, but I have to say that I am not a fan of yucca. If you have ever bitten into a wax apple, that's what yucca tastes like. Plantain is more ponderous than yucca, and again perhaps an acquired taste.

I really should have stopped eating after the fish (an insipid salad had preceded my meal, so I really was overfull by now) but the desert menu looked so tantalizing - not because it had the usual cheesecake/chocolate cake offerings, but because of the special Latin American dishes it offered - flan and higos con queso (figs with fresh cheese)! I was really full to bursting but I had to try the figs with cheese - what a cool combination!

At this juncture, though, the waitress brought me my bill! "Uh, no" I said, feeling outraged. Was this was her way of saying that I had eaten too much? "I still want to order dessert."

She shrugged. "Oh."

"Figs and cheese!" I proclaimed. "And a cup of tea too!"

She shrugged again.

I was irritated but decided to ignore it. The waitresses, all slender, doe-eyed damsels in white shirts and tight white pants, didn't seem to speak English very well, and hadn't even come by to ask me how my meal was (a big minus in my books).

The figs and cheese came in a tall sundae dish - 5 figs and 3 slices of cheese. The figs were small, plump things that had clearly spent the greater part of their lives suspended in a jar of sugar syrup. The cheese was salty and crumbly, strongly resembling Indian paneer, and was a perfect counter balance to the the sweetness of the figs. The tea was hot and flavourful. A nice finish to the meal!

I really was stuffed, so after tasting one fig and eating a small piece of cheese, I decided to take a short break and go to the bathroom. Upon my return, I was startled to find the table cleared off. No figs, no cheese, no tea, no mess of napkins and plates - even the bill had disappeared!

"Uh, excuse me," I said, chasing down a waitress. "My dessert - it was taken away!" She shrugged and disappeared. My waitress came and I explained to her what had happened. She looked disinterested, but eventually the busboy appeared and brought me a new dish of dessert and cup of tea. But, there were only two figs and two pieces of cheese in it!

"Uh, excuse me," I said. "Four figs!"

"No!" He replied. "Two!" and then ran away.

I was perplexed. Clearly, he didn't speak English, so there was probably no point in insisting on getting the extra figs. And maybe there weren't any more in the jar. Anyway, I really was stuffed, so I decided to let it go.

After this incident, I started to feel rather unwelcome in the restaurant. Perhaps they really wanted me to leave?

Defiantly, I sat there, stuffing figs into the spare corners of my tummy and sipping my hot tea. Finally, I really couldn't eat anymore, so decided I was finished.

Some more brouhaha resulted over paying the bill (I was using a credit card) so I felt really irked when I left the restaurant. The food had been delicious, and the waitress hadn't charged me for the tea (due to the confusion over the premature clearing away of my desert) but I was still displeased with the service and decided not to return the next night. Anyway, I had enough fish, rice and tubers to make another full meal.

So, there you have it, a review of Pollos Mario on South Blossom Drive in Orlando, Florida. Delicious food, terrible service - you can decide for yourself if you want to go (and, of course, I recommend that you do!). It wasn't Floribbean cuisine, per se (Colombian, the desk clerk at the hotel later informed me) but it did bear the hallmarks of Floribbean food, and was far removed from anything I would find in Ottawa, so I was well satisfied with my first meal in Florida.

Next up - food adventures at Disneyland!

Disney Food

2009-04-11T22:53:00.008-04:00

Our first morning in Orlando started off sunny and a bit cool. The verdant tropical foliage around the hotel, however, reassured me that I was far, far away from Ottawa!

My hotel, the Baymont Inn and Suites, offered a continental breakfast, of which I intended to partake fully. However, it featured a plethora of white flour products - French toast, danishes, waffles, bagels, and sugary cereals. There were some healthier options - apples, instant oatmeal and raisin bran cereal, but I eat these regularly at home, so I wanted to try the more appealing sugary items. Alas, they left me feeling gluggy, so I vowed to eat the healthier stuff the next day.

The view from my breakfast table

I swiped an apple and some yoghurt for a midmorning snack. I considered taking a bagel and peanut butter for lunch, but I planned to go to a sit down restaurant in Disneyland (hopefully during my baby's nap!) so I didn't bother. Then it was on to Disney's Animal Kingdom and my rendezvous with the giraffes, hippoos, and rhinos!

Needless to say, I wasn't expecting great food - or even interesting food - from Disneyland. And that was good, cuz there wasn't any there! The food stalls all had really cool names and exteriors, but the offerings were plain ol' middle America - 'burgs and fries, chips and chocolate cake. I had read about a good restaurant in the "Africa" section, but I couldn't find it, so ended up eating - guess what? - a bagel and a cherry turnover for lunch! Oh well. I bought these at a really neat food stall housed in an old building shipped over from Tanzania and reassembled in Orlando!

The bagel was predictable, but the turnover was surprisingly tasty and flaky, albeit with the usual canned cherry pie filling. I did later find the restaurant - Tuskers - and it promised a lavish buffet with African flavours - all housed in a building made to resemble the interior of an African marketplace. By then I was full, however, so I just sniffed it in appreciation.

Later in the day I had some fresh cut fruit and ice cream, to cope with the heat. My baby enjoyed the fruit, and the prices were not too bad, so I was reasonably content with my Disneyland food experience (oh, and the animals and rest of the place were Grreeeeat!!)

Regal lion roaming a deserted Indian palace

Key Lime pie?

2009-03-25T01:51:00.004-04:00

Dear Foodies,

I am off for parts unknown! Ms. Foodie and her little baby will be heading to the heaving metropolis of Orlando, then along the coast of Florida for a week of well deserved R&R. I had hoped to post a culinary story before my departure, but my organizational skills are not what they could be, so this evening I was forced to do packing instead of writing (boo hoo!)

Upon my return I shall regale you with tales of the fine Floridian food items (conch fritters! key lime pie! stale potato chips!) I will undoubtedly enjoy on my trip.

Hope you enjoy the pallid Ottawa sun!

Belgian Chocolates

2009-03-16T01:25:00.005-04:00

A plate full of joy

Like everybody in the world, I love chocolate. Like every foodie in the world, I only eat the best!

I grew up eating those junky chocolate bars (more aptly called "candy bars" for the limited amount of real cocoa in them) from the corner store. Oh sure, they were tasty, but when I grew up and discovered there were chocolate bars out there with real chocolate in them, well, needless to say, I started turning my nose up at Mr. Big and his girlfriend Sweet Marie.

"Artisan chocolate" as these better quality bars are sometimes called, have less sugar and fewer fillers in them than the candy bars of my youth. What they lack in soy lecithin, glycerol, calcium chloride and modified palm oil, they make up for with...now, what's it called again? Oh yes, cocoa!

My favourite gourmet chocolate bars are those that have exotic flavours in them. Dolfin of Belgium makes very cool bars with cinnamon, pink peppercorns, and even Earl Grey tea! My favourite is - hold your breath - masala!

Hello gorgeous!

Needless to say, these exotic flavours are not available at your local convenience store, so when I left work for maternity leave, and left behind the gourmet food emporium which was my cafeteria, I was a bit concerned. Where would I get my chocolate fix now?

I visited those old chocolate standbys, Godiva, Laura Secord, and even Louise's Belgian Chocolates in Bell's Corners. Yet somehow, none of these chocolates satisfied me. They were too sweet, sometimes stale, and the fillings were all so banal. And Lindt chocolate, that gourmet Swiss chocolate company which has expanded wildly and become a staple in every North American retail outlet, has never been a favourite of mine.

To my surprise, a most unlikely source came to my rescue - Shopper's Drug Mart! As you may know, a shiny new Shopper's recently opened up right next to the Coliseum Movie Theatre. I visited it last spring shortly after its opening, and ogled the enticing sale items: canisters of Easter eggs for super cheap, picture frames, plush toys, baby bibs (they have a wonderful baby section!), scarlet nail polish, chips, hairspray... all the staples of a well stocked drug store (on a side note, I made a trip there once with a visitor from India. He was shocked to see all the grocery and beauty items. Apparently, in India, drug stores only sell pharmaceuticals. Now what's the point of that?!)

As I have mentioned before, I visit Shopper's regularly for their extensive grocery section. Well, it turns out they have a superlative chocolate selection too! At Christmas the place really exploded with chocolate. They had the usual drugstore offerings - Whitman's, Hershey's (which taste like sand, in my opinion), Ganong, Pot of Gold...and then I saw a sweetly wrapped package of truffles that looked different.

The chocolates were, variously, white, dark and milk chocolate, and each one was prettily decorated: one with a red poinsettia, the other with ribbon and a bow like a Christmas present; one had a little pine tree on it, the other a snowflake. Le Chocolat was the name of the brand, and the box said they were premium Belgian chocolate. Well, I thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I went home and cracked them open. Ooh, was this ever a gain! The fillings were fresh - both flavour-wise and quality-wise. Brownies, ganache, coffee, toffee, marzipan and pralines, maraschino and florentines - these chocolates had them all! Dear reader, I intended to save them for my upcoming Christmas party because they didn't have any more at the store but....well, you know how these things happen!

I enjoyed them. I enjoyed them very much. And the best part was how nicely they were decorated! I went back and tried some of their other offerings - chocolate bars with two flavours (white & milk with strawberries, caramel with caramel cups and toffee chips) and liked all of them. At Valentine's the chocolates had heart and pink & white themes. I can't wait to see what they do for Easter!

Egyptian hieroglyph for happiness: a woman eating chocolate

And as for the guests at my Christmas party, who didn't get to eat those nicely decorated chocolates? Well, don't weep for them, dear reader. I went back to Shoppers the day before my party (not safe to keep chocolates in my house any longer than that!) and got a perfectly good ballotin of Shopper's Drug Mart Belgian chocolates. They weren't as pretty as the others, but they were fresh and delicious, which just goes to show what I said all along. Shopper's Drug Mart is a great place to go for chocolates!

Now, let me go raid my cupboard and see if any of the chocos from these pictures are still around...hm...

Keep on munching!

Kidney beans

2009-03-09T23:01:00.000-04:00

Now isn't this a lovely looking repast? I had it for lunch one day and was thoroughly satisfied with myself.

The kidney beans are from "Brazilian Beans and Rice" which I had made the night before. I got this super fast and super tasty recipe from a baby care book. The author recognized that with a new baby, one needs healthy, fast recipes - and this one really fits the bill. Accompanying my beans are some Greek pita, buttered, from Damas Supermarket, and cucumbers and tomatoes sprinkled with pepper. I usually cut my cucumber in rounds but I was feeling daring that day so I cut it into sticks.

I grew up eating kidney beans in chili - and only this way! Since then my culinary repertoire has increased, and I now eat them in rajma masala (kidney bean curry) and this recipe. For me, kidney beans are comfort food - so soft and tasty, so quick to cook; the red skins concealing a flaky white interior. I'm sure sometime soon kidney beans will become the next big diet craze, with scientists extolling their anti-oxidant, pre and/or probiotic properties, and some other kind of blah blah. Until then I will just enjoy them cuz they're tasty!

I swore I wouldn't give you any recipes on this blog, but since this one is so fast and so easy, I will relent. Here you go: chop one small onion and two cloves of garlic. Sauté in 1 tb olive oil til soft. Add a big pinch of dried thyme, 2 tsp ground cumin, and 1 tsp chili powder. Fry a few minutes. Add 1 cup of chicken or vegetable stock and one can of kidney beans (540 ml), along with the liquid from the can. Add pepper and salt to taste. Boil until the liquid reduces and becomes thick. Add a handful of chopped coriander and serve over rice. Yummy and convenient, even if you don't have a baby!

Speaking of babies, mine is sick so this is all the blog post you'll be getting from me. My little angel has a cold and is restive. Pray for me that he doesn't keep me up all night, or else tomorrow's dinner won't be anywhere near as fancy as this!

Adios!

Chickoos

2009-03-02T00:12:00.003-05:00

January 2, 2002: it was my first day in India, after an absence of 17 years, and I was taking a stroll down a dusty New Delhi street with my aunt and two of my cousins. I had dreamed of visiting India for so long, and now it was actually happening! It was a wonderful feeling.

Walking around the neighborhood, I marvelled at the gaudy Hindu temple, the monkeys in the bougainvillea bushes, and the elephant doing yardwork. We reached a commercial area with a few shops. They were all closed as it was New Year's, but a lone fruit and vegetable seller had set up a roadside stand. I wandered over to take a look. There were bananas, oranges, carrots, onions...the usual kitchen staples.

But then my eye was caught by something special. They looked like small round dusty potatoes, but I knew better...

"Chickoos!" I squealed to my cousin. "Oh, Sita, look, it's chickoos!"

Yes, dear reader. I hadn't seen a chickoo fruit for over seventeen years - not since I had lived in Malaysia. I hadn't tasted one, smelled one - not even thought of one, until I saw them sitting serenely on this New Delhi vendor's wooden cart.

I scooped some up, paid for them with my cousin's rupees, and hustled them home for a bite. Once home I pressed their flesh carefully. It yielded slightly. They were round and unblemished, no untoward wrinkles or sagginess to their skin. Not much scent to them, but that was normal. Their sweet charms were all locked away inside.

I got a knife and peeled one carefully. Then, I took a bite. Sweetness filled my mouth, and then my tongue encountered a seed. I pulled it out and admired it. It was a small, black, flat and shiny thing. I cracked open the rest of the chickoo - it separated neatly into segments, like a Terry's milk chocolate orange. I then removed the rest of the seeds so I could munch on in an unimpeded fashion. It was great.

A chickoo has a delicate, delicious flavour. Its flesh has a rough brown sugary texture, and it has a sweet smell. I'm told they make a delicious milkshake, but I am yet to try one. Perhaps on my next trip to India?

Until then I shall have to be content with whatever specimens I can glean from my local Sri Lankan grocer. Yes, dear reader! Chickoos are available in my corner of Ottawa!

Although they're shipped from India, I have never seen one in an Indian grocery store here. I have, however, seen them for sale in two Sri Lankan groceries in Ottawa. Perhaps Sri Lankan-Canadians crave them more? The first time I saw them in Ottawa was at Thana Stores on Bank St. I bought about a dozen and generously gave some to my mother. She also hadn't tasted them for nearly seventeen years, not since we lived in Malaysia.

Upon moving to Carling Avenue, I was delighted to discover that Sree Fresh Market, a Sri Lankan grocery on Oakley Avenue, just off Carling, also sells chickoos. The first time I entered the store I wasn't expecting much. It has an unprepossessing exterior, with a handmade sign in the window, and a desolate air. Inside, my first impression wasn't much better: dim lighting, dusty crowded shelves, cracked tile floors and a variety of produce displayed in dirty styrofoam crates.

But as I got to know the store, I came to appreciate it better. There is a good assortment of produce, it is generally quite fresh, and all the staples of Indian and Sri Lankan cuisine are available: fresh curry leaves, chilies, Chinese eggplants, pumpkin, onions, banana buds, plantains, and a variety of fruit. In addition to my chickoos, one of the more interesting things I saw there one day were some purple carrots. Yes, purple! I had seen some of these in India, on an itinerant vendor's cart as he tootled around my aunt and uncle's neighborhood in Delhi, but not since then.

"Wow, purple carrots!" I commented to the shopkeeper.

"Yes," he said. "They are from India."

"Really?" I asked. "But why would you ship carrots from India? Aren't there lots of carrots here?"

"Yes," he replied. "And they cost much less. These carrots are $6.99 a pound, whereas these other carrots (he pointed to some ordinary orange ones) are $1.99 a pound."

"So, why...?

"Some people are willing to pay extra for the Indian ones. They say the flavour is different from Canadian ones."

That was interesting. I can understand paying extra for produce that can't be grown here, but to buy something just because the taste is different is quite amazing, to my mind. But then again, my husband has often said that the onions and tomatoes here in Canada have more water in them, and that's why our masalas never taste as good...

Well, I can't see myself buying the purple carrots anytime soon, but I will keep buying my luscious chickoos there! I hope you try them too!

Sweet (chickoo) dreams to you!

Turkish un Helvasi

2009-02-23T22:26:00.000-05:00

Always on the lookout for new things to tickle my tastebuds, one day I bought some “Turkish un Helvasi” at Damas Supermarket. On that day, the baklava looked fresh and scrumptious, but I was trying to avoid sweets so, instead of buying something that I knew I would love (and gobble down), I decided to try something new and see if I liked it.

Soft oval shaped balls of a light brown colour, they sat demurely on a Styrofoam plate, covered with plastic wrap. “What is it?” I asked the shopkeeper.

“Uh, it is like halvah”, he said.

I associate Middle Eastern halvah with the sesame paste sweet that comes in round plastic boxes, but I was willing to give this new sweet a try. Unable to wait til I got home, I cracked open the package as soon as I left the store, and popped one in my mouth. It was soft, sweet, and floury. Perhaps a hint of sesame paste? But not very memorable. I have to say, I was underwhelmed.

When I got home I googled “Turkish un Helvasi” to see what the ingredients were. As I guessed, the main ingredient was flour. Butter, sugar and water are also used. No sesame.

A simple dessert, that nonetheless requires patience and a lot of stirring, it is made in Turkey for funerals and religious days. It’s usually made with nuts, but mine was nutless. Apparently, in Turkey there are three main kinds of halvah: tahini (sesame paste) halvah, which is usually bought; semolina halvah, and this wheat flour halvah. These last two kinds are usually made at home.

In India, one gets different kinds of halvah: gajjar ka halwa, made with grated carrots and condensed milk, and another kind of halvah whose name I don’t know – a glowing orange jelly with pistachios in it that is oh so tasty when it is eaten fresh.

Of the Turkish halvahs I think I prefer the sesame paste one, as it tastes much better. Turkish un helvasi was interesting for a try, but won’t make it into my usual shopping repertoire. That's okay, though; the pursuit of gastronomic delights is an art, not a science. From the realm of science, however, we can take heart in considering Edison's proclamation upon trying to invent the lightbulb: "I have not failed one thousand times, I have discovered one thousand methods that did not work!"

Keep on munching!

Salmon (Happy Valentine's Day!)

2009-02-13T00:38:00.000-05:00

Dear readers,

Valentine's Day is coming up! I have always loved pink and hearts, so this is my favourite holiday! To celebrate this year, I will be going to a special Valentine's Day party at the playgroup I often attend. Everybody brings special food - the kind that's fit for kids, you know! So that means there will be lots of decorated sugar cookies, cupcakes, cake, and so on.

I love my sweets (especially when they are decorated with pink frosting!!) but I decided to do something a little different for my food item; I am calling them "Wild at Heart Salmon sandwiches"! (it's wild Alaskan salmon, or at least so the tin claims). Cute, eh? I used a heart-shaped cookie cutter and cut little white bread hearts out of each slice to make my pretty sandwiches. It wasn't as easy as it sounds - the bread was soft and delicate as tissue paper (and about as nutritious!)

The Carling Avenue connection? The mayonnaise is from Damas Middle Eastern store and the bread is from the shiny new Shopper's Drug Mart on Carling Ave. Surprisingly, for a drugstore, they have a good grocery section, with bacon, organic pasta, and gourmet choco-hazelnut spread. And the best part is, they're open 'til midnight!

I mixed the salmon with coriander, onion and lots of mayonnaise (that's why those commercially made salmon sandwiches taste so good - lots of fat!). Dill would have tasted sensational, but they are still very tasty with the onion and coriander.

So there I was at 10:30 pm, cutting little hearts out of white bread - I wonder how many other moms were up late at night making Valentine's Day treats for school parties tomorrow? Ah, it is well and truly happening - I am a mom!

Now, I just wonder if those kiddies tomorrow will like salmon...

Enjoy your Valentine's Day!!

Jilebis

2009-02-07T01:14:00.000-05:00

Is there a sweet anywhere that is stranger looking than a jilebi? I don’t think so.

And yet, this crisp orange delicacy, deep fried, dropped into hot syrup, designed to explode in your mouth and release rivulets of rose-scented liquid, is my favourite Indian sweet.

My earliest memory of jilebis comes from when I was a child visiting New Delhi. Our bearer went to the market and brought back a small paper bag of jilebis for our tea. The bag was soaked in syrup and looked unappetizing, but the jilebis were fresh and sensational.

In Ottawa I had fresh jilebis once - at the Indian High Commissioner’s Independence Day garden party. They had hired a person to make fresh jilebis on the spot! I recall that I was wearing a pink and white outfit with cute pink suede sandals. It is a mark of my love for these sweets that when my jilebi dribbled syrup onto my pink shoes, I didn’t mind a bit!

What makes jilebis so special? I think it is their unique construction. It seems like a recipe a child would dream up: take some neon-orange batter, make squiggly shapes with it in hot oil, remove the fritter from the fat, and dip it in hot syrup. Through some alchemy, the squiggles become hollow inside. When dipped in the syrup, the tubes fill up with the liquid. Biting into them – ah, a taste sensation!

I tried making jilebis once, and it is not as easy as it looks. I made them from a mix, and the results were disappointing to say the least. They came out golden, not orange (need more food colouring!), the tubes were too thin and, worst of all, when I bit into them, my mouth filled with oil, not syrup. Blech.

When I visit Indian food stores, there is habitually a tray of jilebis placed tantalizingly by the cash register. I know they won’t be good, but sometimes I give in and buy a small piece. How do they taste? Let me give you a hint: the jilebis sold in the stores are not made in Ottawa. I asked the shopkeeper at Vaishali and she told me they are shipped here from shops in Toronto in large cases. She keeps them in the fridge and brings them out a tray at a time, over a period of a few weeks! The results, while not exactly blech, are not quite stellar either. The sugar syrup crystallizes, they lose their crispness and become rubbery. Oh well.

The desirable qualities of a jilebi, as you can tell by now, are: crispness, sweetness, glossy appearance (okay, I hadn’t mentioned that yet), and overall quality. But don’t take my word for it. Apparently, researchers at the Department of Sensory Science in the Central Food Technological Research Institute in Mysore, India, have done tests to determine this. Who knew? Undesirable attributes are: porous, and heated oil taste. They concluded that “Crispness of jilebi had high positive correlation with OQ and texture (shear value).” You see, I knew there was something special about those jilebis.

But enough of the science behind jilebis. I know you are really wondering - what was my best jilebi? Ah, friends, my very favourite jilebi experience came at my wedding! I got married in Mysore, India, in a lavish and colourful celebration organized entirely by my wonderful inlaws. Unlike weddings in the West where the bride (and occasionally, the groom) agonizes over chair covers, centrepieces, the song list, and intricacies of wedding favours, all I had to do was show up. My inlaws sent me a list of the menu for the wedding, but I didn't know what any of the items were (wobattu? majige houley?) so I just gaily agreed to all of the suggested items.

One menu item I did ask for was a wedding cake. Alas, that was difficult to arrange, so I asked for something that I had had in my mind for a long time...

"Could we", I asked my fiance, "have somebody at the wedding making fresh jilebis?"

"Of course!" he agreed. "Now is the time to satisfy all of your food fantasies!"

Woo hoo! You see, I had to marry this man!

And how were the jilebis? Dear reader, they were amazing. Instead of vegetable oil, they fried the jilebis in ghee. Instead of sugar syrup they used honey (special - for a wedding!), and you could tell they had been made with extra special care. The jilebi maker sat on an elevated perch and dripped and drizzled all night long. I only got to eat one jilebi, but I can remember just how delicious it was!

It was a sweet way to start a marriage!

Samosas

2009-02-01T23:53:00.000-05:00

Fresh samosas are a rarity in Ottawa. These tasty fried savouries, consisting of a curried potato or meat filling and a dough casing, really should be eaten within a day of being prepared. Often however, when one buys them in Indian food stores, they are several days old - the casings stale and the potatoes grey, a pallid goo oozing out of them.

I did, however, have a good samosa once. I will tell you about it.

It was a warm and golden August afternoon. I was driving down Carling Avenue, and my baby was crying his head off. Wails, moans, and furious gibbering proclaimed his horror at being bound down into his car seat. I stopped twice to soothe him, to no avail. This, and a wrong turn, made me 45 minutes late for my appointment to view a new apartment. When I got to the apartment building there was no one to meet me and no one who could help me. We would be homeless in three weeks. I was concerned.

I left the car in the visitor’s parking lot and decided to cross the street. Out of his car seat, my baby was calm and chirpy as usual. I, however, felt like swallowing a hand grenade. Some shopping, I decided, would surely help to soothe my frazzled nerves.

At the corner of Wylie and Carling Avenue is Vaishali Superstore. And, really, it is a super store! Most Indian groceries in Ottawa have stale chappatis, bug infested rice, and mouldy sweets. Vaishali’s, on the other hand, has a wide selection, good service, and a decent readymade food counter. On this day, I decided to pick up a lush bunch of coriander, some shiny Chinese eggplant, a bag of chevdo, and peanut chikki. I was considering a tin of gulab jamuns when, suddenly, my nose twitched.

“What’s that ?” I asked in amazement. “Are those samosas?”

“Yes”, the man said calmly.

“Fresh samosas? Is that what I’m smelling?”

“Yes,” he said, “they were just delivered.” He showed the golden treasures to me.

Dear reader, they were warm. Condensation on the inside of the plastic bag, the touch of my fingers – all these confirmed my astonishing find – fresh samosas – in Ottawa. These were virgin samosas – plucked from the deep fat fryer, unsullied by refrigerator or deep freeze, speedily transported to the good folks at Vaishali, rising up to greet me and proclaiming in sweet tones “Hark! We are here!”

I took four, trembling. I paid for the items, then hurried back across the street to my car. No question of waiting till I got home – they would have been fifteen minutes older! I had to eat one right now.

I pulled a samosa out of its plastic bag and bit in. Warm and flaky pastry yielded to my teeth, bursting forth to reveal a fulsome array of delicately spiced potatoes and plump peas. A few sprightly cumin seeds danced by, adding to the merriment. I sat in the golden sunshine, content, my sleeping baby on my lap, and savoured every morsel.

Behind me, the bulk of the apartment building loomed. It would likely never be my apartment building, but at least I could sit in its shelter right now, enjoying the colourful flower beds and savouring my perfect samosa.

I took the rest home to my husband and urged him to eat one right away. But he, philistine, refused, saying he wasn’t hungry (huh? that never stopped me from eating!). He had one later and said it was “just okay”. Well, of course, what did he expect?

I’ve been back to Vaishali’s a few times since then.

“Any fresh samosas?” I ask hopefully. They always nod and point me enthusiastically towards the refrigerator…. Alas, the warm samosas have always eluded me. But someday…someday I will again taste the fresh samosa and be transported to a little corner of Indian culinary heaven.

And as for the apartment? Dear reader, I got it after all. I was able to make another appointment, my baby cooperated on the trip over, and now I am typing this message to you from it, even as we speak.

So you see, sometimes dreams do come true! Now, if only I could get another fresh samosa...

Labneh

2009-01-16T01:48:00.001-05:00

Well might you ask - what the heck is labneh? That's just what I was asking myself when I spotted this red, white and green tub at Damas Supermarket. The packaging is clear enough - it is "strained yoghurt". But just what does one do with strained yoghurt on a sunny Autumn day in Ottawa? I didn't know, but in the spirit of adventurous culinary inquiry, I decided to buy some and find out.

The ingredients are straightforward - goat's milk, cow's milk, salt and bacterial culture. I tasted it - it was thick and tangy. But what to do with it? I turned to the wise folks at Google for some counsel. This information, on allrecipes.com, was what came back: "This is the Lebanese version of cream cheese, a lot tastier and lower in calories. Serve on a plate, sprinkled with olive oil, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers and mint. Or simply spread it like cream cheese on pita bread."

"Labneh is awesome, and this recipe is no exception, and simple enough to make. " proclaimed one of the viewers of this recipe. And, "Being of Lebanese decent, I have had this all of my life." declared another. Fair enough, I thought. But how should I use it?

I had some friends coming over that week, so I decided to prepare a mezze plate with olives, roasted red peppers, pita bread and labneh, (all from Damas, bien sur!) for an appetizer, to be followed by Singapore noodles. Alas, time ran short and, not only did I not get to prepare my mezze plate, but I had to order pizza for dinner. What a fall from grace!

Several weeks later my mother and some of her friends came over. I thought to prepare some herbed cream cheese spread with the labneh. When I inspected it, however, it had developed a florid blue mold on part of it. I pondered what to do. Skim off the mold and go ahead with my recipe? Or would that be putting these esteemed family friends at dire risk of tummy trouble? Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour (what exactly does that phrase mean?) I threw out the labneh and just used regular, unmolded cream cheese (blended with oregano and fresh garlic. It tasted great!)

So that was the end of my labneh experiment. Perhaps I shall buy another tub and do something more productive with it. But at least now I know what labneh is. And now you do too.

Pita bread

2009-01-16T01:17:00.000-05:00

Ah, pita bread, gift of the gods - staff of life!

I first encountered pita bread when I was young. My mother would take my sister and me to the Christmas fair at Lansdowne Park, where we would have lunch at the Lebanese Ladies Auxiliary stall. There, we ate hummus, tabouleh, and pita bread - the holy triumvirate of Lebanese cuisine.

In fact, that's all I thought there was to Lebanese food until, after university, I moved to downtown Ottawa and discovered all the shawarma joints that had suddenly mushroomed there in the intervening years. In addition to this savoury grilled meat on a skewer, I learned to love its many accompaniments: garlic sauce, pickled turnip, the bread salad known as fattoush, fried cauliflower & eggplant, falafel...yum!

Of course, I know there is even more to Lebanese food than that which is found in a shawarma shop, but I think this is a great way to become introduced to the healthy and flavourful food of this region. And, in this cuisine, the pita bread is king.

I used to buy pita bread at the grocery store, but now that I live so close to a Middle Eastern grocery, my standards have gone way up. Now, I won't buy pita bread unless it passes the "sniff & poke" test.

First, I poke at the various packets of pita bread. If I find one that is soft, I sniff it. If I can smell fresh baked bread through the plastic bag, then I buy it.

There is rhyme to my reason, of course; after a day or two, pita bread becomes dry and leathery - not at all the stuff that sandwich dreams are made of. But when it is soft it is just right for gobbling down with hummus, guacamole, peanut butter & banana...any way you like.

At Damas Supermarket, some of the pita bread comes from Montreal and some from Ottawa. I would prefer to buy the Ottawa product, but sometimes the Montreal ones are fresher. Of course, it depends on when it was delivered.

My favourite way to eat pita bread? Ah, this concoction comes from the summers of my youth: slather hummus inside a pita bread. Make a green salad of lettuce, cucumbers, green onions and Kraft Zesty Italian salad dressing. Stuff it in the pita pocket and eat it on the steps outside your house, while basking in the sun. Then, take a nap, for you will feel deliciously sleepy...

Dates

2009-01-14T00:55:00.001-05:00

For me, it all begins with the dates. I love dates. Soft, squishy, brown gems with papery coverings, they are lovingly tucked into boxes in desert lands and shipped around the world, to be munched off as snacks or as a sweet way to end a meal.

When I first wandered into Damas Supermarket, shortly after moving to Carling Avenue, the first thing I encountered was dates. Lots and lots of dates. Syrian dates, Iranian dates, Saudi Arabian dates, Turkish dates...fresh yellow dates, pressed dates, cooking dates, medjool dates, and the always alluring "dattes deglet nour" (what does that name mean?).

Growing up, the only dates I encountered were dry, waxy dates with the pits removed. I know now that these are disparagingly labelled "cooking dates", and are hardly meant for snacking purposes.

No, my first lip smacking date experience came when I was in my twenties and had moved to Rideau Street, another busy street in Ottawa. Near my apartment was an Indian-Pakistani grocery store. I often mooned around it, looking at all the exotic spices and feeling I should know what they were meant for (I am Indian, after all), but not having a clue what to do with them, apart from the jars of mango pickle and tins of chick peas. One thing I could understand, however, was the large box of dates that were sold by the cash register. The shopkeeper offered me a sample, and I was hooked. Squishy, soft, fragrant...now these were dates!

Even then, though, I never knew what varieties dates came in until I stepped into the Damas grocery store in September. There they had all kinds of dates, partly because it was the season for them, and partly because it was Ramadan and dates are a traditional way to break the fast. Dates to break the fast - who knew? On this first foray, wanting to try something new, I bought some fresh red dates on a styrofoam tray. Also, craving cake (I am a sweets fiend) I bought a "Crispy pound cake". I thought "Crispy" was the brand name, but after biting into the stale, dried out cake, I realised that it was actually meant to be...crispy! I was not impressed. The fresh dates also disappointed me. They were astringent and crunchy. Very odd - that's not how dates are supposed to taste.

I didn't return either of the items, but on my next trip to Damas I complained about the fresh dates.

"They taste strange", I said.

"I know," the hijab-clad shopgirl said, sympathetically. "I thought so too, the first time I tried them. But now I'm addicted to them! You get used to the taste. They're like apples!"

Hmm, I wouldn't have said that, but then perhaps it is an acquired taste. I still wanted to taste some proper (dried) dates, so I bought a box of Iranian dates and took them home. The very first bite was ecstasy - soft pillowy darlings, squishy and hyper-sweet. Just right to accompany a bowl of cereal or a cup of mint tea after dinner. At a mere $2.99 a box, they are a taste of the exotic desert here on busy Carling Avenue.

I shall leave you with this pithy thought: everybody remembers their first date - but how many people remember their first apricot? Or their first raisin? Ha ha! That is a hoary old joke - and I mean that - I first saw it in a newspaper when I was ten!

Keep on munching!

The Neighborhood

2009-01-14T00:54:00.001-05:00

So what/where exactly is Carling Avenue? Carling Avenue is a major road in Ottawa (that's the capital of Canada, for all you geographically challenged individuals). It's a long road, starting somewhere in Kanata, and ending at Bronson Avenue. It has loads of shops, apartment buildings, hospitals, restaurants, parks, car lots, shopping centres, a movie theatre, and a bunch of other things on it.The part that interests me the most is the area in a 30-minute radius around me.

Here I can walk around the neighborhood, baby in tow, buy a few bags of groceries or a few boxes of takeout, and make it back in time to make something scintillating for dinner. Okay, sometimes the results are not so scintillating, but that's not my fault - in those cases the recipe is clearly at fault. And that brings me to another point - this will be one thing distinguishing my beauteous blog from all those other, lesser blogs. I will not post recipes on this blog. None, nyet, nada. If you want a recipe for one of the mouthwatering items I talk about, go and ask Ms. Google. There are enough food & recipe blogs out there that my own slight culinary expertise will hardly make any contribution to gustatory world literature. But my opinions on other food matters such as how to choose the softest pita bread, sweetest chickoo, or freshest samosa, surely will be!

I shall also confine myself to discussing food items I have found on Carling Avenue. Well... at least, I shall do that most of the time. If I find something really fascinating on Richmond Ave. (a stone's throw from Carling), I shall include it, but primarily I will restrict myself to food finds from Carling.

Buen provechio, dear readers!

Yes, it is yet another food blog

2009-01-08T20:22:00.000-05:00

Why does the world need another food blog? It doesn't. But that won't stop me from creating one. Why? Ah, who needs a reason to extol the virtues of the fresh peach, the flaky croissant, or the tender salmon fillet? Moreover, I have recently moved to a new neighborhood here in Ottawa, and it is rife with tantalizing ethnic grocery stores and eateries. My old neighborhood was sterile and boring; the park a manicured green space, the nearest restaurant a, gasp, sports bar! (ick) And so, having this smorgasbord of food at my toesteps (I live in an apartment building) has led me to kind of go nuts, (figuratively speaking of course).

So in this blog you will have the pleasure of sharing with me my food hunting expeditions as, baby in tow (ah yes, I have a little one taking part in all my adventures), I peruse the offerings in the Middle Eastern store, puzzle over mystery greens in the Indian store, and inhale the stale air of the Sri Lankan grocery, all in a bid to discover the tastiest, cheapest, most fun food items on Carling Avenue...