$5036.26 raised at Brick Works.

$1660 raised at Amaranto Café.

$6090.54 raised at The Rivoli.

$2460 raised at Café Diplomatico.

$3787 raised at Liberty Noodle.

$985 raised at the Liberty Noodle silent auction.

$7158 raised at Yoshi’s.

$825 raised by the incredible Paul T.

$1467.87 raised online so far.

$215 raised at online bake auction.

$180 raised at online art auction.

$200 raised in cash donations.

$30,064.67 raised!

Thank You, Toronto!!

Receipts:

Heena/Niya: CAD 22,082 transferred to Japanese Red Cross Society.

Paul T.: CAD 825 transferred to Japanese Red Cross Society.

Yoshi’s Sweets: CAD 7158. Please contact Yoshi’s at 416.907.9663.

***

What: A simple concept – a bake sale to raise money for Japan.

When & Where:

Saturday, April 9, 2011, 9 am to 1 pm

• Farmers’ Market at Evergreen Brick Works, 550 Bayview Ave, Toronto

Sunday, April 10, 2011, 11 am to 3 pm

• Liberty Noodle, 171 East Liberty St, Toronto
• The Rivoli, 334 Queen St W, Toronto
• Cafe Diplomatico, 594 College Street, Toronto
• Amaranto Café, 809 St. Clair Ave W, Toronto (New!)

Sunday, April 10, 2011, 10 am to 5 pm

• Yoshi’s Sweets, 2359 Queen St E, Toronto (donating 100% of the day’s sales)

Who: Kind and committed people from across Toronto coming together and using their talents for a great cause.

To Whom: 100% of all proceeds from this initiative will be donated directly to the Japanese Red Cross Society.

Why: Because we can; we must.
I woke up on a day that appeared to be like any other. I remember I was out of milk and could not find my keys anywhere, and this was really ruining my morning. Distracted, I turned on the television and then stood dumbstruck for the next ten minutes as visions of horror unfurled on the screen. Japan had been hit by a massive 8.9 earthquake. Over the next few days, I watched as the country was hit by one disaster after another. My heart broke a little each time I saw the images of death and destruction, of kids being scanned for signs of radiation, of rescue workers searching for the bodies of victims, of survivors trying desperately to find their loved ones. I sent up a silent prayer each time, but I wanted to do more. And then I read about the The Great Kiwi Bake-Off, which raised $16,420 for clean-up in the Christchurch earthquake, and Samin’s BakeSale project, which raised $23,000 for Haiti last year! I bake almost every week, and I know so do hundreds of passionate food lovers all over Toronto. If we all put our efforts together, can we make a difference? I really believe we can.

How: Right now, this event is just an idea, words on a page. I am going to do everything I can to make it a reality. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help This event is no longer just an idea; many kind and generous people are helping us make it a reality. But we still need your help – all you talented bakers, artists, event organizers, collaborators, volunteers and potential customers out there.

1. If you want to participate, use the Contact page or drop an email to torontobakesforjapan@gmail.com and tell us how you would like to help. The sooner, the better because the event is only 3 weeks 1 week away. Many thanks!
2. RSVP: You can RSVP to the event on Facebook.
3. Spread the word: Today, if videos of funny cats can go viral, why not word of a good cause? Share the link, download our logo, share the poster with anyone you think would like to help. We can use all the hands we can get.
4. Check this site or Facebook or Twitter (hashtag #BakeForJapan) for more details.

There is something magnificent about a roast chicken just pulled from the oven in all its golden glory. No matter how many other high-pressured jobs you may be juggling, it makes you feel strangely competent and proud knowing you’ve brined, trussed, seasoned and roasted that bird yourself. To test the true mettle of a chef, they say, ask him to make you a French omelette, or a roast chicken. In both, there is no hiding behind exotic ingredients or complicated sauces. There is just the egg and the chicken, showing off the most important thing – technique.

Growing up in India, there were two main representatives of American cuisine: burgers and roast chicken. The burgers got a vociferous vote of approval garnering an immediate fan following, as only the greasiest of junk food can do. (The queue at the very first McDonalds to open in India stretched around the block.) The roast, on the other hand, got a bad rep right from the start. It was nothing like the beautiful bird that Julia Child trussed and roasted on television. It was dry, bland and for people having grown up with chicken that is marinated in yogurt, bathed with a host of spices and cooked to moist perfection, it was boring. Needless to say, it never caught on. Even after traveling abroad and eating at some of the best restaurants, I found that the dish was more likely to disappoint than please, and after a while, I stopped ordering it.

While cooking at home, I experiment with a lot of cuisines and a plethora of meats that are difficult to find back in India. (Beef and pork are taboo, religiously speaking. My cousin teases me about how I might get disowned from grandma’s will, but when faced with a plate of the most perfectly prepared beef bourguignon, I think I’ll take my chances.) But maybe subconsciously discouraged by all the sub-par chickens I’d eaten and given that I cook for one, I never considered attempting the roast at home. Two things happened recently to change that: first, the lesson for my eighth Culinary Arts class at George Brown was roast chicken; second, one of the Apprentice challenges in Charcutepalooza this month was brined and roasted chicken.

If you are not yet familiar with the delightfully named Charcutepalooza (try saying it very quickly 10 times), it is a charcuterie extravaganza started by Kim Foster (The Yummy Mummy) and Cathy Barrow (Mrs. Wheelbarrow’s Kitchen) featuring a charcuterie challenge each month using Michael Ruhlman’s Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing as a guide. I join around 200 other bloggers (albeit a little late, having missed February’s challenge) as we learn how to prepare, store and above all, respect the meat we eat. This month’s challenge is brining – a process of soaking meat in a brine before cooking.

The main challenge is to make your own corned beef, but a late start and a busy day resulted in me ending up at the butcher’s when they were all out. Not willing to compromise on the quality of the meat, and because brining brisket is a 5-day process, I’ll be able to share my experience with you only next week. In the meantime, there were the apprentice challenges: roast chicken and pork chops. While I was instantly attracted to the chops, I decided to do something I wouldn’t otherwise, considering this is the spirit of the challenges. I went one step further and decided to compare the un-brined chicken I made in culinary class to the brined specimen I would roast at home. Because there are countless roast chicken recipes on the web, I decided to share here instead the tips and techniques I learnt to make a really handsome and moist roast chicken.

Start with the best bird you can find: This is common sense – if you start with an inferior bird, you are going to get an inferior roast. I don’t mean to sound elitist but try to buy a certified organic bird; the difference will be apparent even before you’ve had a single bite.  It can get expensive, so  I spend more dollars but buy less frequently. At the very least, try and buy naturally raised chicken. (Ironically, one of my most traumatic experiences as a kid was at a chicken shop in India, where I saw a chicken beheaded – my mom knew her chickens were fresh, but it turned me into a vegetarian for 7 years.) Use a smaller bird, usually between 3-4 pounds. Pull out the innards from the cavity and trim any excess fat or skin near the tail end.

Brine: The most common complaint with roast chicken is dry meat. Brine, in its simplest form, is a mixture of salt and water. The purpose of brining is to make the meat moister when it cooks. Since I marinate chicken in yogurt and spices for most of my Indian recipes, I can relate to this. What is different is the high amount of salt. Salt, as I know, draws out moisture, so it seems contradictory. Reading up on it brings back to memory an old science lesson: osmosis. I don’t want to start a science chapter, but to make a long story short, the saline solution causes water to flow into the tissue cells hydrating the meat. The salt causes the proteins to unravel or denature. These then interact with each other to form a matrix that traps water and holds it while cooking. Result: moist meat.

Sugar acts as a counter-balance for the salt and in case of roasting, helps develop that deep, golden color. It also follows that the same solution acts as a great carrier for flavor, so brining with herbs and spices results in meat that is flavorful to the very core. If you’re following a recipe, use complimentary flavors in your brine: onions, lemons, herbs like parsley, rosemary, thyme, tarragon and spices like pepper, mustard, and coriander seeds are all great additions. You can learn more about brining and get the exact recipe (which we can’t share) from Charcuterie. If you don’t have access to the book, Cook’s Illustrated has a good online how-to on the topic.

In my little kitchen experiment, the brined chicken cooked to a much deeper hue than the un-brined bird and the meat in the interior was much more flavorful. The process itself is truly uncomplicated, the only disadvantage being that you will need to plan ahead.

Truss: Trussing a bird makes for an extremely neat and pretty presentation. With regards to cooking, there are two schools of thought: the first is that it facilitates even cooking. The second is that because the breast cooks faster than the thigh. if you don’t truss the bird, the thighs get more room and cook faster. My personal preference is to truss; otherwise, the bird just looks comical and ready to break into a chicken dance.

Trussing is much less complicated than it looks (no big needles involved). The common method I saw illustrated in most images leaves a wedged line across the beautiful thigh meat. I discovered the other method by reverse-engineering my butcher’s handiwork. You will find the step-by-step pictures at the end of this post.

Season: If you have brined your bird before-hand, you don’t need to worry too much about seasoning. I did sneak in a few garlic cloves, thyme sprigs and a small lemon into the chicken cavity even after brining. I then proceeded to give it a loving massage with half a stick of unsalted butter. If you have not brined the chicken, you need to season it very well with salt and pepper. You can add garlic, herbs and a lemon to the cavity but don’t over-stuff it. You can make a compound butter by mixing together softened butter and chopped herbs, finely minced garlic, shallots or even mushrooms and rub it generously between the meat and the skin. Another little trick I’m hoping to try soon is to slip slices of prosciutto or bacon under the breast skin, keeping it moist and adding to the flavor.

Roast: There may be as many suggested roasting methods and temperatures as there are people roasting meat. Many suggest searing the meat on all sides in a hot pan before sliding it in the oven. While this may give a nice color to the meat, contrary to popular belief, it does not seal in the juices. Some advocate extremely high temperatures, while some others recommend a mixture of high and low heat. Roasting the meat on a bed of root vegetables is a common method, but some say that the moisture from the vegetables inhibits the roasting process.

This is what worked best for me: After brining, trussing and seasoning the chicken as described above, I rested it on a rack over a pan of root vegetables, which I tossed in oil and seasoned with salt and pepper. This adds those wonderful dripping juices from the chicken to the vegetables, but it is not resting directly on them. Make sure that the pan is big enough to hold the vegetables in a single layer; else, the vegetable will just steam instead of roasting. I roast on high heat (475°F) for 20 minutes and then lower the heat to 375°F until the chicken is done done to avoid shrinkage. I also baste it twice or thrice during the cooking process. When basting with pan juices, make sure what you’re picking up is actually fat and not water from the chicken/vegetables. If you’re not sure, just use more butter. (If you’ve brined the chicken, the skin might start to blister quickly; if this happens, cover the chicken loosely with aluminium foil.)

The time for the chicken to be done will vary depending on the size and temperature. To check for doneness, pierce a knife where the breast meets the thigh; the juices should run clear. Or insert a meat thermometer into the meatiest portion of the thigh being careful not to hit bone; the temperature should read 165°F. (The internal temperature will continue to rise after you take the chicken out of the oven. Make sure your thermometer is accurately calibrated.)

Serve: The main thing is to allow the chicken to rest for at least 20 minutes  before serving in order to allow the juices to settle. Resting the chicken on its breast allows the juices to flow down making it moister. Carve the chicken and serve it with a sauce made from the pan drippings. I simply put the pan with about 3-4 tablespoons of the liquid on high heat and pan-fry the vegetables until they are glazed with the natural juices and have caramelized slightly. I then deglaze the pan (dissolving the caramelized bits) with white wine and add some more thyme. The last step is to reduce the alcohol and check for seasoning, and dinner is served.

Roast Chicken with Glazed Root Vegetables
(Method is described above)

Ingredients
1 3-4 pound chicken, innards removed
(Brining: please refer Charcuterie or Cook’s Illustrated)
In cavity:
3 sprigs thyme
6 garlic cloves, crushed
1 small lemon, quartered
To rub:
6 tablespoons butter, softened
Root vegetables, peeled and chopped into equal-sized chunks:
4 medium carrots
4 celery stalks
3 small turnips
1 rutabaga
1 medium onion
6 small red-skinned potatoes, halved
1 yellow pepper (technically not a root vegetable, but I like to add it)
6 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
4 sprigs thyme
1 sprig rosemary
To toss:
1/4 cup vegetable oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
To finish:
1/2 cup white wine

Step-by-step: How to Truss a Chicken:

It’s 4:00 a.m. My eyes jolt open as the shuddering motion of a Greyhound let loose on a dark, open highway comes to a sudden halt. I have arrived at my destination, more than an hour early. Ottawa, so welcoming at other times, is cold and silent at this ungodly hour. I park myself on a hard bench at the bus terminal, huddled against the bitter wind that sweeps in every time the doors open automatically, sometimes presumably at the arrival of invisible ghosts. I alternate between trying to make myself comfortable and enviously regarding the large massage chairs (!) that earlier birds have appropriated as their temporary nesting grounds.

The B&B I’m staying in doesn’t open until 7:30 am. I give up my vain attempt at sleep after an hour, hop into a cab and direct it to the Elgin Street Diner, which I know is close by and open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. (My nerdy ways of researching any place I’m visiting does have its advantages.) The diner opened its doors 11 years ago and has become an Ottawa institution. It’s known for its poutine, milkshakes, burgers and breakfast, but what I’m looking for right now is a warm refuge and I find it here. I’m greeted with a welcoming smile and before I’ve even taken off my coat, a steaming cup of coffee magically appears – one sip and I feel almost ready to join civilization again. It’s not as deserted as I’d imagined it to be and despite the early hour, a jovial spirit hangs around the place as the servers chat with the cops and other regulars, trading jokes and even friendly insults (over hockey, of course. This is Canada, after all.)

I gratefully sip my coffee and take in the green booths, the old tables, brick walls and the smells emanating from the open kitchen. Much to my surprise, I’m suddenly starving and decide to order the breakfast special – two eggs done the way you like, bacon or ham or sausage, home fries, baked beans, toast and a bottomless cup of coffee or tea or milk – for $7.99. I skip the baked beans (I have some restraint after all) and ten minutes later, I’m happily tucking into my perfectly cooked sunny side eggs and home fries, which are exactly as they should be, crisp and almost caramelized on the outside and meltingly light on the inside. The food is good, but it is the attentive service (my cup is refilled every time I start hitting bottom), the unhurried pace, the welcoming banter and the casual vibe of the place that takes me in completely. There is a palpable shift in my mood and I feel ready to take on the day.

If you’re in Ottawa for only a few days, it is probable that all the places you’re visiting are localized and if you know where you’re going, the Ottawa Transit system is reasonably easy to navigate. A single ride costs $3.25 but a $7.50 day pass allows you to ride on all routes all day long – if it’s a weekend or a statutory holiday, an entire family can ride on a single day pass, a feature I love even in Toronto. My bus ride takes me right through the centre of downtown, past majestic buildings and across charming bridges. (Ottawa sits at the confluence of three major rivers: Ottawa, Gatineau and Rideau, and the water and several bridges and river roads add to beauty of this city.)

If you have the money to splurge, you would do well to stay at the Fairmont Château Laurier. A part of the original Grand Trunk Railway hotels and with architecture reminiscent of a French château, complete with fairy-tale turrets, the Château evokes an unmistakable sense of grandeur and romance. Overlooking Parliament Hill and host to kings, queens, presidents and other distinguished figures breaking bread and negotiating deals under its copper roof, the hotels is sometimes called the third chamber of the Parliament. If you’re fortunate enough to be staying here, keep an eye out for the ghost of Grand Trunk Railway chairman Charles Melville Hays, who on his way to the hotel’s opening perished on the RMS Titanic and whose ghost is still reported to roam the hotel hallways.

If, like me, you can only afford to admire the Château from a distance, Ottawa still has a number of extremely pleasant accommodation options. Apart from the numerous hotels, there are several bed and breakfast places that provide a cheaper, and according to me, a more personal and attentive alternative. Cynthia welcomes me at Shirley Samantha’s Bed and Breakfast, a charming home located on a quiet residential street just off the Rideau River. Despite the early hour, she takes me upstairs and as soon as I spy my room with its light and space and giant cozy bed, I want to snuggle in and not leave. There are books and magazines and CD’s laid out and the adjoining common room has more books, board games, cold drinks and homemade cookies. But I have other things to do and after a hot shower, I head out for the main purpose of this trip – the open house at Le Cordon Bleu, Ottawa.

The school is the Canadian offshoot of the famed original in Paris. The campus is located in a mansion adjoining the Rideau River and the building invites you in with its cheery yellows and blues. I’m joined by 60 other people from all walks of life gathered here because of a common passion for food. A presentation by the staff and students and an enthusiastic Q&A in one of the demo rooms is followed by a tour of the school. The tour begins at the school’s restaurant, the Le Cordon Bleu Bistro @Signatures located in a sunny room that continues the building’s yellow and blue theme. The space is elegant without being claustrophobically so and makes the most of the morning light streaming in through the high windows.

The cuisine and pastry kitchens are state-of-the-art with a work station for each student. The space is quiet today but you can imagine it bustling with students as they whisk their sauces, sear their meats or perfect their pastry creations. We do get to see the Superior Pastry students’ final pulled sugar creations and it is a visual array of art and creativity. The tour ends with a demo of Crevettes à l’Armoricaine with the chef encouraging us to ask “Why?’’ Why do we put the shrimpon ice? Why do we sauté them separately? Why do we add the cognac in the end? Why are we only simmering the sauce for 5 minutes? (“Because Peter, the admissions officer, talks too much and we don’t have time.”) The demo is a good example of how an actual class would interact with the chef and the shrimp is delicious in spite of its short simmer time. Peter stays back patiently to answer more questions from those of us who’ve just not heard enough. I leave the campus suitably impressed, but for some reason I still cannot shake off the slightly touristy vibe that the Le Cordon Bleu exudes in general.

But it has been a very productive trip so far and I happily look forward to the next part: Food. Or dare I say more food?

You know you’ve stayed in Canada for a long time when someone asks you about the weather and you reply nonchalantly “It’s not too bad today. Just hovering around -10°…” only to be met with nonplussed silence.

I remember my first day here very clearly. It was the beginning of March and my friend had told me that it had stopped snowing a week ago. On the plane ride over, I found myself silently wishing “Please, please let there be a little snow.” Coming from Bombay where winter temperatures average around 28°C, snow was a magical entity I had never experienced, much like Santa Claus. Well, I must have been a very good girl that year because I stepped out of the airport into what was apparently one of the worst snow storms Canada had seen in decades. My body was ill prepared for the temperature difference of nearly 50°, the bitterly cold wind swirled around me and I was knee deep in the snow I had so wished for. A week of three layers of clothes, heavy boots, gloves, scarf, hat, chapped skin, numb fingers and I’d had enough of the stuff.

But I’ve long since grown used to it and watch in silent amusement as visiting friends encounter a Canadian winter for the first time. (“Why! I don’t understand this. It makes no sense!” wailed a friend on a recent visit from North Carolina.) There are things I’ve come to love about winter: watching the snow fall silently outside the window, walking out into a world in which all the harsh noises seem to have got muffled by a giant, white blanket, ice skating by the lake, screeching in glee while hurtling down a hill in a giant tube, a mug of dark hot chocolate, a bowl of steaming stew, not having to worry too much about the calories because the lovely purple jacket covers it all up. And cookies.

For some reason, I bake a lot more cookies in winter than I do in any other season. I’m sure you’ve noticed. It may be because they make the best homemade gifts, but there is also something to be said about having trays of neatly lined cookies and a humming oven in the kitchen to warm you up when it’s freezing outside. These chocolate-ginger-molasses cookies are my favorites in this season; the recipe is a delightful blend of Maida Heatter’s Chocolate Gingersnaps and Dorie Greenspan’s Sugar Topped Molasses Spice Cookies.

The cookie is spiced with three types of ginger – fresh, powdered and candied, which gives it a nice kick unlike the sugary-sweet versions found in most stores and cafes. The cocoa serves as a nice counterpart to the spice but make no mistake, ginger is the star here. The dough comes together easily and after a rest in the fridge, is easily shaped into little balls that get rolled in sugar and flattened with the back of a glass also dipped in sugar. The sugar gives the cookies a nice crunchy exterior while the molasses lend their hand towards a wonderfully chewy interior. They may look simple lined up against delicate butter cookies, laden chocolate chip and pretty macarons, but they are addictive little devils. I’m known to occasionally carry them in a zip-lock in my bag and love to have them waiting for me in a cookie jar as I step in from the cold. You now know how I fortify myself – I’d advise you to do the same. (If you live in a place where negative temperatures seem like a bad joke and the beginning of March signals sunshine and warmth, you should still make these; don’t wait for Christmas. And don’t send me a postcard!)

Chocolate-Ginger Sugar Topped Cookies
Adapted from Dorie Greenspan and Maida Heatter

1 inch piece fresh ginger
2 cups all purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon powdered ginger
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground all-spice
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (packed) brown sugar
1/2 cup molasses (not blackstrap)
1 large egg
1/4 cup candied ginger, finely diced
About 1/2 cup sugar, for rolling

1. Grate the fresh ginger and set aside.
2. Whisk together the flour, cocoa, ginger, cinnamon, all-spice, salt and baking soda in a medium bowl.
3. In a stand mixer or with a hand mixer, beat the butter in a large bowl at medium speed until smooth and creamy.
4. Add the fresh grated ginger, brown sugar and molasses and beat for another 2-3 mins.
5. Add the egg and beat for another minute until completely incorporated.
6. Add the dry ingredients to the bowl and beat at low speed just until incorporated. Don’t overwork the dough. If required, use a rubber spatula to mix in any remaining flour at the bottom of the bowl.
7. Add the candied ginger and mix in gently with a rubber spatula.
8. Divide the dough in half and freeze for half an hour or refrigerate for at least an hour. The dough can be made and stored in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.
9. Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
10. Put the sugar in a small bowl. Starting with one half of the dough, divide it into 12 pieces. Roll each piece into a ball with your hands. Roll the ball in the bowl of sugar until you get an even coating.
11. Place the sugar topped balls on the baking sheet. Dip the bottom of a glass in the sugar and flatten the cookies into discs about 1/4 inch thick.
12. Bake in the preheated oven for 12-14 mins until the tops are dry to the touch.
13. Let the cookies cool on the sheet, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
14. Repeat with the second batch of dough.
The cookies will keep airtight for up to a week or frozen for up to 2 months.

Nothing inspires as much hope as a new beginning. New job, new town, new home, new relationship, new year – they all bring with them the vision of new possibilities, a fresh outlook, a blank slate to do with what you wish. There is a renewed energy, a spring in the step. It may all lead to the same tedium, the same results because people don’t essentially change, but for that brief period of time, there is hope. You wake up bright and early on the first day of your job, spend hours choosing the perfect outfit for that first date, make new year resolutions, forgetting that as exciting as the beginning may be, it is what comes after – the middle – that really counts.

I have never been big on new year resolutions; never consciously made one. Resolutions, especially those that are announced with a lot of fanfare, I’ve noticed often come to naught. This year was going to be no different until one day toward the end of December my boss called to inform me that I had to move to Toronto for a new project. Anyone who knows me knows how absolutely in love with this wonderful city I am, so this was good news. But I had to give up my old place, close accounts such as my rarely used gym membership, find a new place in a new city, pack up all my stuff, move, unpack all my stuff, and show up to work, all within a week. While this might intimidate some people, I’ve been living a fairly nomadic existence for the past few years and I felt up to the challenge.

As always, the funnily named Kijiji came to my rescue, and I spent the first week of the new year house-hunting, calling up a score of people and viewing 9 different places in 2 days – in a different city. The first house I’d got excited about turned out to be the last house I saw, and in finding this place I turned out to be extremely lucky. I now stay in a fully furnished home with two wonderful roommates in the heart of Toronto on Queen West surrounded by parks, libraries, bookstores, food stores, coffee houses, bakeries and restaurants. Major score! (And knock on wood!)

Unpacked and settled in, I then proceeded to do all the things that I’d been resolving to do one day. Well, I told myself, that day was here. I started with signing up for French classes at Alliance Française. My first class coincided with my second day in the city but I was done making excuses. I now spend four hours every week with 10 other classmates from every corner of the globe (the beauty of living in Toronto) conjugating French verbs with a delightful teacher, who gives meaning to the phrase joie de vivre and permits absolument pas l’anglais in her class.

Not satisfied with adding my efforts towards butchering the French language, I decided to further my continuing education by enrolling at George Brown College for Culinary Arts I. Now, for four hours every Friday evening, I go back to the beginning – to French classical culinary technique. Stocks and sauces, salads and soups, roasting and braising, meat and vegetables – I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am as I begin to learn new skills. But tell you I will – I promise, nay I resolve, in my upcoming posts.

Let me see, was that all? Oh, I forgot to mention the ice skating lessons signed up for in a fit of misplaced athletic enthusiasm. I’m paying them to see me fall on my ass 20 times in an hour, but at least I’m doing it in the “correct way”. Between all that falling, the few minutes that I do glide effortlessly with the cold wind in my face and the lakeshore in my sights makes it worth it. Now if only that ugly purple bruise would go away. Needless to say, I have not renewed that gym membership.

With all this change (including 5 inches chopped off my erstwhile waist-length hair, which caused a plaintive cry from my mum on the phone) and the fact that I was returning home most nights after 10 pm, exhausted but happy, this space has been pretty silent. And it is not because I’ve ignored it or because I’ve stopped cooking. It’s because I’d rather say nothing than be guilty of lazy (or tired, as the case may be) writing. “I made Julia Child’s Beef Bourguignon. It was delicious. Recipe follows.” This is something I hope you will never find on this site.

My first weekend in the new house, as I got familiar with the kitchen, pulled open drawers and cabinets, learned the temperamental idiosyncrasies of a new oven, I got out my old cake pan that travels with me everywhere and baked brownies. They represent the very beginning, when a 15 year old girl drew out her first cake pan from the oven and marveled at her power of creation. Since then, I’ve baked hundreds of brownies, some dry, some cakey, some so rich you needed tumblers of milk to wash it down, always in the quest of perfection. A brownie with a cracked crust, a fudgy, moist interior, the deep, satisfying taste of dark chocolate, the crunch of toasted nuts. This recipe is the closest I’ve come to it. It’s so simple a child could make it. If you’re new to baking, try it and you’ll never look back. With Valentine’s around the corner, it makes the perfect gift. Half an hour after I started making them, the kitchen was filled with familiar smells. The nomad was home again.

Dark, Fudgy Chocolate Brownies
Adapted from Jamie Oliver

1/3 cup slivered almonds (or walnuts)
2 sticks (8 ounces or 225 gm) unsalted butter
7 ounces (200 gm) dark chocolate (60% cocoa)
1/4 cup dried cranberries (or dried cherries)
1/2 cup cocoa
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups sugar
4 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Lightly butter an 8-inch square cake pan.
2. Toast the nuts on a baking sheet in the preheated oven for 6-8 mins taking care not to burn them. Cool completely.
3. Melt the chocolate and butter on the top of a double boiler or in a large bowl over simmering water, stirring frequently until smooth.
4. Take the bowl off the heat and stir in the toasted almonds and dried cranberries.
5. In another bowl, whisk together the cocoa, flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Add this to the chocolate mixture and stir together well.
6. Beat the eggs with the vanilla extract and stir them in until they are completely incorporated and you have a smooth mixture.
7. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and bake in the preheated oven for 20-25 mins. Never overbake brownies. The top should be dry and crackly but the inside should still be gooey; a cake tester will not come out clean.
8. Allow to cool in the pan, then transfer to a board and chop into chunky squares. Best with a dollop of barely sweetened whipped cream or a glass of milk.
They will keep at room temperature or refrigerated for 3-4 days (if they last that long). They also freeze well.

I woke up this morning with my eyes bright and alert for the first time in a week. My brain was free of the cobwebs that a cold and flu had ridden it with. I opened the front door and the world had changed around me. Snowflakes had been falling silently while I was asleep and wrapped the world in a blanket of white. I went back inside and grabbed my camera, which had been lying untouched for days. I must have presented quite an amusing sight – in my pajamas and winter coat clicking away with a grin on my face.

Back inside, as I got out the bacon for breakfast, there was something else on my mind. Cookies. My cookie countdown had suffered a minor setback on account of my cold, but there is nothing that aids recovery better than cookies. Or bacon. Adding bacon to the cookies just seemed like the right thing to do.

Bacon-based desserts seem to be the latest trend. The first I heard of it was the now-famous Humphry Slocombe’s bacon ice cream. While this innovative ice cream shop tops my list of must-visit places (incidentally it comes before the pyramids of Egypt, judge me if you must), I was not really sold on the idea – something about mixing bacon with dairy still irks me. But as I read more about chefs all over introducing not just bacon, but other traditionally savory ingredients into the sacred dessert turf, previously ruled almost unequivocally by sugar and chocolate, I became more and more intrigued. My previous experiment with a Lemon-Basil Panna Cotta had been a success. So why not bacon?

Anyone who has ever drizzled maple syrup over their bacon knows what these chefs are talking about. When you think about the perfect marriage between sweet, salty and smoky, adding bacon to dessert no longer seems bizarre or an exercise best left to the devices of experimental pastry chefs; it seems more of a logical conclusion. Any baker worth his salt (excuse the pun) knows the secret ingredient, which if missing will render even the best cookie or caramel or chocolate dessert flat, like a black-and-white photogrph without depth. Most desserts need that base note of salt to cut through the one-dimensional sweetness – I knew this (by accident) even when I had just started baking. You see, at that time, most dessert ingredient lists called for unsalted butter but few had that important ‘pinch of salt’. Try finding unsalted butter in a grocery store in India. Salted was all I had to work with and to me, it seemed to work better. (It was only later that I realized that recipes call for unsalted butter because the percentage of salt varies widely from one brand of butter to the other and because unsalted butter was deemed ‘fresher’. I felt vindicated when a master pastry chef seemed to agree with my salted butter theory.)

So there I was, cookies on my mind and bacon in my hand, breakfast effectively forgotten. I knew it had to be shortbread – no other cookie, in my opinion, showcases butter better, and the crispy bacon would be the perfect foil to its sandy texture. But I needed something else – something that would elevate the sweet-salty match I was going for. A cookie infused with the wonderful aroma of rosemary, a herb strong enough to stand up to the bacon, seemed to be the perfect answer.

I candied the bacon (yes, I just used ‘candied’ and ‘bacon’ in the same sentence) in the oven with brown sugar, a technique I picked up from my salted-butter-teammate, David Lebovitz. (Of course, he does not know that such a team, or I exist, but let’s not quibble about that.) While the bacon cooked and reminded me that I had skipped breakfast, I stirred together butter, sugar, vanilla and rosemary with a spatula (such high-tech operations before breakfast!). The bacon was calling out to me and it took all my will power to resist and make sure that all of it went into the bowl. A gentle mixing of flour, a little hand trickery to form cookie balls and 25 minutes later, the buttery fragrance of  freshly baked cookies swirled about in the kitchen. The cookies yielded and crumbled at the slightest pressure of my teeth, the rosemary cut cleanly through the butter and fat, and the bacon was all I had hoped it would be – crispy, sweet, salty. I had crossed the great bacon-for-dessert divide forever, and I’m sure I’ll never look back.

Candied Bacon and Rosemary Shortbread
Adapted loosely from David Lebovitz and Epicurious
Makes about 2 dozen cookies

5 strips bacon
2 teaspoons brown sugar

2 sticks (8 oz or 240 gm) unsalted butter, softened
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 sprig rosemary, finely chopped (I use sharp kitchen scissors to snip them finely)
1 3/4 cups all purpose flour

1. Preheat the oven to 450°F (200°C). Line a heavy baking sheet with a silicone mat or aluminium foil, shiny surface down.
2. Lay the strips of bacon on the foil and sprinkle the sugar evenly over the strips.
3. Bake in the preheated oven for approx 12 minutes. Halfway through, drag the strips through the syrupy liquid that has accumulated and turn them over. Keep an eye out and make sure they don’t burn. Bake until they are a dark mahogany color.
4. Remove from the oven and cool completely on a wire rack.
5. Lower the oven temperature to 350°F (175°C) with the racks in the upper and lower thirds. Lightly grease 2 heavy baking sheets and line them with parchment paper.
6. Blend butter and sugar in a bowl with a rubber spatula until creamy. Add the vanilla and rosemary and mix until well incorporated.
7. Chop the cooled bacon to small bits and blend it in the butter mixture.
8. Sift flour over the butter and blend gently with the rubber spatula just until incorporated. (The dough will be slightly crumbly.)
9. Flour your hands well and form the dough between your palms into 1-inch balls, pressing and shaping the dough to stick together. Gently flatten and lay them on the baking sheets, spaced 2 inches apart.
10. Bake in the preheated oven until the edges are golden, about 20-25 mins, switching the baking sheets halfway through for even baking. Cool on the sheets for 5 mins, then cool completely on a wire rack.

Ever since my early days at school, December has been my favorite month of the entire year. There is just something about the festive air of December that belies work and signals the beginning of a holiday. There is a nip in the air, the lights beckon, Christmas carols play everywhere, extravagant holiday eating and drinking is expected. My best friend from school, Jenny, who I’ve known since the third grade, and I had declared December 1 to be a personal holiday, a date to be celebrated and rejoiced over. And even now, thousands of miles apart, we never fail to wish each other Happy December!

We were inseparable at school and our friendship is so old that neither of us can remember how it started. At first sight, we have nothing in common. But we share a bond so deep that even today, when our lives could not be more different, when we do get to meet, it’s as if the years in between fall away. She is one of those genuinely good people, the kind that sees and believes the best in everyone. In school, this made me fiercely protective of her but what I know now is that she didn’t need protecting. While I had the power to yell at people who made her cry, she had the power to forgive and forget. She was always the yin to my yang. Sometimes, I literally shook her “to stop being such a saint”. I still delight in getting a shocked and amused peal of laughter from her as she is tickled  by something crazy that I’ve done. Recently, she was in an accident that had my heart leaping to my throat when I heard about it. She is on the road to recovery now and while I’m saddened by the fact that I can’t be by her side to at least make her laugh, I know she’ll be okay. Because she’s stronger than I am. While I have the power to rant and rail against the unfair hand life sometimes deals out to the nicest people, she has the power of absolute and unshakable faith.

And today, on December 1, our special day, I’m hoping that this post, with its triple dose of chocolate, dedicated to her, makes her smile. (She used to persuade me to spend all my pocket money on buying her Dairy Milk chocolates, which she wasn’t very generous with; she’s not very saintly when it comes to sharing food.) That triple dose of chocolate is contained in an innocent looking biscotti. The dough has a serious hit of cocoa that I’ve accented by the addition of espresso, which alleviates the chocolate flavor. Chunks and shards of chocolate are buried in the dough to crack and melt delightfully in your mouth. Twice-baked, they are crisp (but not jaw-breaking) and ready to be dunked in your cup of coffee, but not before they get a final flourish of melted chocolate swirls. I had them wrapped in a pretty box along with my holiday biscotti to gift to the original domestic goddess. But let me warn you right now, these little treasures are going to rob you of the holiday spirit of giving. As I know from experience, they are extremely difficult to part with.

Happy December everyone!

Triple Chocolate Walnut Biscotti
Recipe adapted from Epicurious
(As usual, I’ve changed around some ingredients, quantities and methods.)
(Makes about 24-30 cookies)

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder, dissolved in 1 tablespoon hot water
3/4 cup walnuts, chopped
3/4 cup bittersweet chocolate (preferably 60% cocoa), chopped
3.5 oz (100 gm) bittersweet chocolate (preferably 60% cocoa) (I used half white chocolate for contrast)

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C) with the rack in the mddle. Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment.
2. Sift first four ingredients in a bowl.
3. With a stand mixer or a hand mixer at medium speed, beat the butter until light and fluffy. Add the sugar and beat until light and pale.
4. Beat in the eggs, one by one, incorporating one completely before adding another.
5. Beat in the espresso.
6. Switch the mixer speed to low and mix in the dry ingredients, beating only until incorporated.
7. Stir in the walnuts and chopped chocolate with a sturdy spatula.
8. Using moistened hands, halve dough and form 2 (15-by 2-inch) loaves on an the baking sheet, spacing the logs 3 inches apart. (I just rolled the dough gently with my hands to get an elongated rope and then shaped it, gently stretching and flattening into logs.)
9. Bake in the preheated oven until firm but still pale, about 25 mins.
10. Take the sheet out of the oven and cut the logs crosswise with a sharp serrated knife into 1/2-inch slices. Place the slices on the second baking sheet, cut side down.
11. Bake until firm and golden, about 6 mins ON EACH SIDE.
12. Transfer the cookies to a rack and cool. Don’t discard the baking sheet with its parchment paper.
13. Once the cookies and baking sheet are completely cool, transfer the cookies back to the sheet. Melt the chocolate over simmering water in a double boiler or using 20-second short bursts in a microwave (about 1 minute in total). Transfer the chocolate to a piping or zip-lock bag. Snip off a small portion at the tip and drizzle the chocolate over the cookies. Cool completely until the chocolate is firm. Store airtight between sheets of waxed paper. They will keep for up to a week, if they last that long.

This space has been really quiet for the last two weeks. I wish I could say the same about my mind. Growing up can be a bitch sometimes. There are important decisions to be made and I don’t mean the fun decisions like Peppermint Mocha or Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate? As a kid, my biggest reason to grow up “soon” was that I wouldn’t have to ask permission before eating ice cream. (Yes, even then my decisions were being based sub-consciously on how much food I could eat.) But no one told that little kid that as an adult living in today’s world, even innocent pleasures like ice cream come with a topping of guilt. (You know things are bad when I start giving ice cream negative connotations.) No one told her that with freedom comes a ton of responsibility. Usually, I’m an excellent candidate for shouldering all that weight – I’m a regular nerd who’s done the right thing all her life. But recently I’ve been wishing I could put that weight down for a bit.

My head has been spinning round and round, but there’s at least one thing I know. When you can’t make a decision, you bake cookies. I was reading Maida Heatter recently and that great doyen of wisdom and experience agrees with me. She once heard a doctor talking on television about the dangers of stress and the ways of coping with it. She says “I yelled – Bake cookies. I often talk to the television. I yelled at it again and again… he never once mentioned my sure-fire treatment.” But I know what she’s talking about. Nothing bad can happen when you’re baking cookies. It calls for your complete attention as you cream the butter and eggs, take in the aroma of chocolate or vanilla or spices, roll the dough or drop it by spoonfuls. It’s cathartic. There are many who may not agree with me. When another favorite author (okay, let me just confess, I harbor a huge crush), Nigella Lawson published How to be a Domestic Goddess, she received a lot of feminist flak for it. But the idea is to revel in your power to create, not be forced into it. And even though it’s much easier to buy cookies at the supermarket or the bakery, try one fresh from your oven and you’ll be hooked. Get your family around to help, make it a ritual, a tradition; hell, sit on a high stool with a mug of coffee and direct the troops around. They’ll look back and remember it even if the cookies were misshapen or burnt – to create memories, that’s the power of a true domestic goddess.

So what do you do when you go to meet the original domestic goddess? You bake cookies. And not just any cookies – you bake biscotti laced with the goodness of cranberries and pistachios and citrus zests, cookies so festive that they can’t help but put you in the holiday mood. So Holiday Biscotti it was that I baked to take to Nigella Lawson at a recent book signing in Toronto. When I bake something for a woman who is the author of 8 cookbooks and hosts her own cookery shows, do I stick to the tried and tested? Do I go to a recipe that I’ve made a hundred times and know will work? Do I even do a test run of this new recipe I’m so excited about? No; because I’m either brave or an idiot, I start baking at 10 pm the night before after a very long day. Some might view this as work, but for me, with the house quiet, my ipod on and my books, ingredients and equipment around me, it’s the perfect idea of a few fun hours ahead. (It’s a testimony to the world we live in that my ipod, laptop, camera and mixer wires kept getting entangled with each other.)

The dough had the usual suspects – flour, butter, sugar, eggs (although butter is not an ingredient in the traditional biscotti), but it was elevated with the addition of lemon and orange zest and star aniseed. The bright red cranberries and green pistachios poked festively out of the two logs I shaped. After their first stint in the oven, I carefully sliced the pale logs and lined them up like soldiers ready for their second encounter. Twice-baked, they were crisp and chewy and very unlike the tooth-breaking biscotti that I don’t hold any affinity for. Squiggles of white chocolate made them simply irresistible. Dunked in a cup of coffee, they make the perfect snack. Lined up in a pretty box with a hand-written recipe, they make the perfect gift. I hope Nigella, who was as charming in person as she comes across in her books (she graciously smiled until my roomie, who has little experience with my camera, was satisfied with the picture), agrees with me.

P.S. As the title suggests, this recipe also marks the beginning of my holiday cookie countdown, a new and I hope, lasting tradition. Keep your eyes out for some traditional, not-so-traditional, kid-friendly, and fun holiday cookies.

Holiday Biscotti
Recipe adapted from Epicurious
(As usual, I’ve changed around some ingredients, quantities and methods.)
(Makes about 24-30 cookies)

2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
2 large eggs
Grated zest of 1 large lemon
Grated zest of 1 medium orange
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon grated star aniseed
3/4 cup dried cranberries
3/4 cup sliced pistachios
3.5 oz (100 gm) high-quality white chocolate

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C) with the rack in the mddle. Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment.
2. Sift first three ingredients in a bowl.
3. With a stand mixer or a hand mixer at low speed, beat the butter until light and fluffy. Add the sugar and beat until light and pale.
4. Beat in the eggs, one by one, incorporating one completely before adding another.
5. Mix in the lemon and orange zests, vanilla extract and star aniseed.
6. Switch the mixer speed to low and mix in the dry ingredients, beating only until incorporated.
7. Stir in the nuts and cranberries using a sturdy spatula.
8. Using moistened hands, halve dough and form 2 (15-by 2-inch) loaves on an the baking sheet, spacing the logs 3 inches apart. (I just rolled the dough gently with my hands to get an elongated rope and then shaped it, gently stretching and flattening into logs.)
9. Bake in the preheated oven until firm but still pale, about 25 mins.
10. Take the sheet out of the oven and cut the logs crosswise with a sharp serrated knife into 1/2-inch slices. Place the slices on the second baking sheet, cut side down.
11. Bake until firm and golden, about 6 mins ON EACH SIDE. (I write this in caps because I missed this instruction and baked them on only one side. I gave Nigella Lawson underbaked biscotti! Not only that, I just realized that I missed an important step in the handwritten recipe. I’m so embarrassed.)
12. Transfer the cookies to a rack and cool. Don’t discard the baking sheet with its parchment paper.
13. Once the cookies and baking sheet are completely cool, transfer the cookies back to the sheet. Melt the chocolate over barely simmering water in a double boiler. (Take care that the chocolate does not come in contact with any water or it will seize.) Transfer the chocolate to a piping or zip-lock bag. Snip off a small portion at the tip and drizzle the chocolate over the cookies. Cool completely until the chocolate is firm. Store airtight between sheets of waxed paper. They will keep for up to a week, if they last that long.

Project Food Blog is a competition, a very serious competition, where talented and creative people are going above and beyond to produce some of their best work. And like any competition, it has attracted its share of critics and naysayers. So even though I’ve been living in Canada on and off for two years and had explained my situation  to the writer/editor, I didn’t want anyone to think I was deliberately misrepresenting myself to gain an advantage. I shouldn’t have worried because even though I have seen firsthand how amazingly warm and generous the people here can be, they still manage to take me by surprise.

As the congratulations poured in on Twitter, I explained my position to people. I even wrote to the writer and editor of the article requesting that maybe, they needed to add a clarification. For all those people who think all competitions consist of backstabbing, foul-mouthed, hyper-competitive, will-do-anything-to-win egomaniacs, I ask you to please go and check the #pfb2010 Twitter stream. Here, you’ll find many of my new Project Food Blog friends, who are supportive and appreciative of each others’ work. We debate, bicker,  and argue but also praise and sometimes even send declarations of undying love  to each other (WinnieAb, I’m talking about you).

Sure, there are controversies and a few call outs; it’s not all roses and champagne, but for the most part, I have seen genuine people, who are here for the same reason – we love food, we love writing, we love creating and we love sharing all of this with you, our dear readers. And all of us have worked our butts off, with sleepless nights, minor and major meltdowns and loss of more than a little sanity. So, critics, let me first see your entries for lavish 3-course dinners, exotic food, made-from-scratch pizzas, step-by-step photo-recipes and videos, let me see your empty cups of coffee, scratched notepads, 430 clicked but unused pictures, 94 clips of film, and then, we can talk.

What came of my explanations and requests for clarification in the article? @HotPolkaDot_Mom, who is the mother of Hot Polka Dot (a contestant) and one of the biggest cheerleaders of Project Food Blog, sent me a breezy reply “@TiffinTales Well I guess we’ll just have to adopt you!”. Her daughter cheered Eat Live Travel Write, who is also British and the last Australian standing. Beverley, the writer of the article, has always been supportive but it was Malcolm, her editor, who had the last word. Below is his email reply to me:

“Hi Heena,
I/we are happy to call you whatever you like. But, there is a long standing tradition in this country of claiming anyone on the soil as our own, so you can be “Canadian” for the purposes of the contest if you like, and no one will mind. It’s a bit like you’ve joined a sports team while your here, if that’s helpful….”

How can you not love a country, and a contest, that introduces you to people like these?

P.S. There are many other outstanding bloggers out there. Since I couldn’t link them all, you can check them out at Project Food Blog.
P.P.S. Since this is a competition after all, you can check and vote for my latest  ‘Classic, Contemporary and Crazy’ video entry here if you like it. Thank you everyone for all your overwhelming support. It is more than I could have ever expected.