From analyzing business flows to homework in water color! Life certainly has changed.

Look – they have Happy Hours in Paris too!

{Taken outside Metro: Arts et Métiers, Paris}

I can’t help but be charmed by the Parisian cafés with their quintessential chairs spilling out onto the street. (Be forewarned though that you pay a premium for the prime real estate. It’s much cheaper to get a cup of coffee at the bar, although I still haven’t found good coffee in Paris.)

{Taken at Place Colette, Metro: Palais Royal – Musée du Louvre, Paris}

“I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness, still another mile…”

If I had to choose one theme song that would define the last year of my life, this would be it. I’d never actually thought about it and I definitely did not stand up on my desk in my cubicle at work to spontaneously burst into song (that happens only in Abba musicals). But I recently found myself quietly humming this to myself on a quiet street as I waited to meet some new friends. I stopped and looked around and quickly drew in a deep breath as I realized that I was finally living my dream – I was in Paris! Not as a tourist, not on a short layover as I traveled for work, but as a bona fide resident.

This post has taken me a long time to write – literally and metaphorically speaking. Usually when I conceptualize a post, it begins with some research, then comes the actual implementation and finally the finishing touches. Rarely does a post have me changing the course of my life (which is hyperbolic but true nevertheless). A year ago, I was sitting in an office in front of a computer screen analyzing business requirement flows, while actually wanting to be in my kitchen as I day-dreamed of the next confection I wanted to create. I baked for family, for friends, for people at work and only smiled as they joked about me changing my profession. But there comes a point in time when you really have to take a good hard look at your life and decide if it is the one you want.

Someone once told me that life is a matter of choices. If you want to live, choose. And so I did. I applied to ESCF Ferrandi, the French School of Culinary Arts that I had been cyber-stalking for the past 3 years. I sent in my application and waited with bated breath until 4 months later I received an email with those magic words “We are pleased to inform you…” I had been lucky enough to be accepted into a small group of 24 students, who would be learning the art of pastry and bread baking for the next one year. I informed my bosses and colleagues that I was leaving and to my great surprise, they could not be more excited or supportive.

I held the news close to my heart, because when you’ve wanted something for so long, you can’t help but be superstitious about it. It took some time for the news to sink in as I swung between pure elation and utter panic at what I was doing. But here I am – writing this post from my apartment in Paris. This is my life, right here, right now. And I intend to savor every minute of it.

Bon Appetit!

$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.