Intentions

Hubby took me to a very fancy schmancy restaurant in the mountains for my birthday and this is the only picture my camera took.

We had a 7 course meal: the most amazing fois gras I've ever had, two things I'd never heard of before (compressed melon and dehydrated milk), wines that I'd never think to drink, a goose broth that needs to be bottled and sold as liquid gold, and a glorious sunset over the mountains. And I didn't take a single picture of it.

Don't get me wrong, it was gorgeous food. From artful but real presentations to sublime tastes to inventive techniques. It was a very memorable meal.

The memory will only live in my head, and maybe in my husband's. I did not photograph such a stellar experience because sometimes I just want my dinner to be my dinner. I have no intention of becoming a restaurant reviewer, so that documentation isn't necessary. And I have no intention of documenting everything I eat, Twitter is bad enough for that.

What I do intend to do, and this dinner practiced that intention, is to simply enjoy my food, enjoy my experience. Food writers need breaks too from thinking about writing about food. We want vacations and the only way we'll get them, since we always have to eat, is by putting down the camera and not composing sentences in our head as we chew.

Instead, I'm going to think how awesome my husband looks with the sun setting behind him and the look of joy on his face as he devours his favourite food. I'm going to pinch myself that I experienced such a luxurious treat in the midst of some stressful times. I'm going to look at my sous vide rhubarb and think it's cool, instead of wondering how they did it. I'm just going to eat.

Only in My House?

Hubby has a disgusting habit. Okay, he has more than one. Opening beer bottles with his teeth, eating knobs of butter, just butter, and eating dried macaroni by the handful. And much to my chagrin, he's passed on those habits to our youngest child. Not the beer bottle one - yet.

Yes, when we bake she steals bits of butter and I've found her with her finger in the butter dish more than once. Are you cringing just a little at that? I am.

Lately, however, the macaroni habit has become an obsession. All our dry goods are stored in glass jars on open shelves above the stove.  She literally tries to climb up the stove, yelling, "Macaroni please!"

At first I refused, fearing that she would choke. We've been down that road and I was terrified of another ambulance visit. Eventually I relented, letting her have just one. She chomped down, chewed it up, and asked for more. So now she and her Daddy sit with handfuls of dried macaroni, crunching and laughing together over the naughtiness of their habit.

Does anyone else do this? Or is my family just this special? (Sarah, don't answer that)

Bean Burgers Yum!

If you've been reading a while you know that I was the mom who went crazy anal about making my kids' food when they were little. Or you just know me and that fact isn't surprising at all. But the one thing I did buy was some bean burgers from a local manufacturer. The Monster absolutely loved them. But they were expensive. Damn expensive.

I launched a search to make a good bean burger myself. And I searched and tested and searched and tested some more. And I had no success. Nothing seemed to work.  They were all too dry or too wet, so I gave up.

Then the Blog Aid: Haiti cookbook arrived. Catherine McCord at Weelicious included a recipe for garbanzo burgers in it. The old challenge poked its head out of my subconscious and forced me to make her burgers. And you know what? Success at last! 

Of course, I did adapt it a bit.  But that's because I had a 19 ounce can of chickpeas, not 14 ounces as in the original recipe. To compensate I added some pistachios when I was making the breadcrumbs and threw in some spices. The girls and I happily ate them, as did our vegetarian friend who was visiting. Even Hubby, the devout carnivore, ate them without grumbling. Much. But he did clarify that they were actually patties and did not deserve the name burger.

Garbanzo Patties

Adapted from the Weelicious recipe in the Blog Aid:Haiti Cookbook

Makes 12-15 patties

1 19 ounce can chickpeas, rinsed and drained

1 small carrot, chopped

1 small onion, roughly chopped

1 clove garlic

2 eggs

1 tsp salt

1 tsp cumin

1/2 tsp chili powder

1/4 cup bread crumbs

1/4 cup finely chopped pistachios

2 tsp sesame seeds, toasted

1-2 tbsp oil

1. Blitz the first 8 ingredients in a food processor until it is a consistent mixture.

2. Stir in the bread crumbs, pistachios, and sesame seeds.

3. Scoop about 1/4 cup of the mixture (it will be wet) into your hand and form patties. 

4. Heat oil in a frying pan on medium heat. Cook patties for 5 minutes, flip and cook 3-5 minutes longer.

Particularly tasty with Edgar Farms Asparagus Relish. Or a nice green salad.

My Days and Nights

Like a starving man with irrational and obsessive fantasies about food, I'm losing my mind and killing myself over recipes I can't cook. I'm even dreaming about food and famous foodies.

The other night I went to Pangaea, a restaurant I've only ever heard about through fellow writer, Dana McCauley.  Her husband, Martin Kouprie, owns the place. Now I've never met either of these people in person, but I had a very elaborate dream where Martin took me on a tour of the place and gave me a cooking lesson. So now I am obsessed with trying something we experimented with in the dream - hot chocolate ice cream. We made ice milk, then poured over a cocoa sauce. Cocoa sauce? Not chocolate sauce? It was a dream after all.

Then last night I had a fantastic dream with Matt Armendariz. Nothing either of our husbands have to worry about, so stop right there. If Matt ever opens the bar I dreamt about he will be a very popular man.  Well, popular with everyone but my dad. Inexplicably my grumpy old dad came with me to the movie screening at Matt's bar. The rest of the crowd, full of old friends from university and what my unconscious can only guess are a mess of Matt's friends, enjoyed candy, chocolate, and pastry made by Matt. I can't tell you what movie we watched, but I can still taste the butter and flake of Matt's perfect pastry.

And I thought it was bad spending my days reading magazines and blogs, torturing myself with food I cannot make until I can stand for more than 5 minutes unassisted. Now my nights are haunted by crazy good food and better company that the ladies on The View.