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The Recipe Vault #5: Cryptic Minimalist Potato Soup

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For those who have just come across The Recipe Vault, this little project is all about having a look at a huge collection of recipes my mother accumulated over I don’t know how many years. They’ve been packed away at our place for a very long time, waiting for someone to come along and do something with them. My mom loved to cook and she dreamed of one day writing a cookbook, something she never had the opportunity to complete. Sharing some of them here on 27th Street is like piling into a time machine and going back to my childhood for a wee visit. Enjoy.

Not all of Mom’s recipes were well developed. I came across this one for potato soup which is downright cryptic. It does point out one of the first laws of my mom’s recipes. Just because the name of the recipe only mentions a vegetable doesn’t mean it’s a vegetarian recipe. This one begins by frying up some bacon and onions. As they go, this is a fairly light recipe – unlike many of them, it doesn’t involve sour cream but instead uses milk. She doesn’t specify but I’m sure she meant whole milk. It only has 5 ingredients plus water, salt and pepper – it doesn’t even include stock.

I’m sure this simple soup is very tasty. One thing seems unusual. Anytime I have added potatoes to soup I’ve just tossed in the potatoes raw. I suppose she wanted some of the starch to boil off before the potatoes are added, but it would never occur to me to do that. Wouldn’t that also boil off nutrients? In my mind, the potato starch can only add body. It would also depend on the variety of potatoes used, since some are starchier than others, but this cryptic recipe doesn’t specify.

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The Recipe Vault #4: pickled beets

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At a certain point during my childhood, my mother made pickled beets every year, jars and jars and more jars of pickled beets, more pickled beets than a family of 5 could consume in a lifetime. Let me say up front that I never liked them, not one bit. In fact they ruined beets for me for most of my life. I couldn’t even stand the smell of the cursed things.

These days I can enjoy beets from time to time – not so much that I want to eat them regularly, but a couple-two-three times each year, no problem. I suspect if it weren’t for pickled beets in my childhood, I might have even grown to like them a lot.

We had a cold cellar, which was underneath the front porch of our home. There were shelves around the walls and they were always loaded with preserves, including jars of tomato sauce, peaches in a sugar syrup, a weird concoction involving plums from the back yard tree and alcohol, dill pickles and bread and butter pickles too – and lots and lots of pickled beets. The thing is, I don’t remember (or I choose not to remember) anybody actually eating them.

As a kid I suspected that mom made pickled beets not because anybody in the family liked to eat them but as a kind of carry-over from life in Poland (even though my mom came over from the old country as a child). I’m not against carrying on traditions but I prefer the cabbage roll tradition to the pickled beet tradition by a long shot.

 

 

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The Carpenter from Montreal

I found this book on somebody’s list of best books so far this year. It’s the story of two brothers, prohibition-era gangsters in a NE American city. One of the brothers meets up with a bootlegger/gangster/fixer in Montreal while running Canadian booze south. This guy is known as The Carpenter, who provides advice for the protagonist and later becomes his employer.

I enjoyed the way this book told the story from the point of view of a small group of individuals, one of whom happens to be dead. It’s a challenge for a dead person to tell a story, I suppose, but reading the book, it seems quite reasonable. I think reading a story from different points of view can be a very engaging approach because as a reader, I have to work to form my own opinions by reading the various points of view, making my own assessment of the characters, and developing my own understanding after reading the story from different voices.

The book offers some insight into crime within the social complex of a city, and how major events (like a world war) affect the criminal underbelly, in this case in both the American city and Montreal. The telling of the story, though seems distant, which is curious since the tellers – and in particular the dead character – are part of the action. I thought the story was interesting enough but I had difficulty developing any empathy for any characters in the book. It felt like I was far on the outside looking in.

I enjoyed sections of this book, particular passages and insights, but I have to stop short of recommending this one. I’d be interested in comments from others who have read The Carpenter from Montreal. What did you think?

Next up is Running, a novel by Cara Hoffman.

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Yesterday

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It was great to see Steph, Luke, Viv and Eric yesterday at my art exhibition at yumart. They came all the way down from Stouffville and Uxbridge!

Even though I’ve experienced a lot of art exhibitions over the years, I always get anxious. I think this is because making paintings has always been a very private activity – just me and my imagination – and when the work goes up in a gallery people share that private experience with me.

At the same time, it’s always good to see the works up, together, in a clean space. I’ve had a number of these paintings (or whatever you want to call them) hanging around the house over the past few months. Sometimes I have to live with a painting for quite a while to decide if it is really done or more pointedly, if I can live with the images I created. When they’re hanging together, I can get a better sense of the whole conversation.

The exhibition is on until the 28th, at 401 Richmond here in Toronto. The gallery is open Wednesday to Saturday at noon.

 

 

 

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The Recipe Vault #3: Meat Loaf

When I was growing up, I loved meat loaf days. Even more, I loved lunch the day after meat loaf days, and to this day meat loaf sandwiches are a special comfort food treat. My mom wrote out the basic recipe, but she was being a rascal – she left out the key ingredient. More about that in a moment.

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The recipe calls for ground beef or a beef and pork mix. Let me say that my mom would never use just beef. Almost anytime ground meat was called for, she would use beef and pork. Today, when I make meat loaf at home, I often use beef and ground chicken or turkey with excellent results.

She always used some chopped onion, but in my mind’s eye, I can see her adding in chopped up celery and green or red peppers too, and when I first started making meat loaf, I added those ingredients because she did.

The recipe calls for bread shredded into milk or stock. I don’t think it’s necessary to trim the crusts and I certainly wouldn’t bother doing that. Alternatively, you can simply add bread crumbs instead of mushed up bread and that will work just fine.

Without exception, my mom placed slices of bacon on top of the meatloaf before roasting. In fact she would totally cover the top with bacon. However, reading the recipe, you would think the idea was to then simply roast the meatloaf. Oh no, no, no. There is a secret ingredient she neglected to add to the recipe.

I wish I could give you a complex recipe for the glaze Mom put on the meat loaf, but I’m not going to lie. She slathered on a secret ingredient – a product called Heinz Chili Sauce.

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I have no idea what else people do with this product. For me it was, and remains, the stuff you put on top of your meat loaf. We also used it as a condiment on meat loaf sandwiches the next day. I’ve never used it for anything else. When you generously coat the meat loaf with chili sauce, it fuses with the bacon as it cooks in the most remarkable and delicious way.

Now a couple notes on your left over meat loaf. Always make a big one so you will have plenty left over. The best meat loaf sandwiches use the loaf cold. We would never heat it up. Perhaps if we had a mircowave at home back in the day we might have been tempted, but if so we would have been wrong. Cold meat loaf makes the best sandwiches. The other thing is you need to have is good crusty bread or a crusty bun for your sandwich. Slice  your meatloaf good and thick. The basic straight-up meat loaf sandwich doesn’t mess with a lot of ingredients, but if you want to fancy up your lunch, fry up some mushrooms or try raw sliced red onion or fresh picked tomatoes from the garden. Back in the day, Dad always grew way more tomatoes than the family could ever consume.

When I make meat loaf today, I almost always make it the way my mom did. It turns the kitchen into a time machine and transports me back to my youth. Occasionally I change it up, especially when I’ve been successful in foraging choice wild mushrooms. On those occasions, I chop mushrooms into the loaf, start with a roux, add stock and loads of wild mushrooms and braise my meat loaf in what becomes mushroom gravy.  I’m sure my mom would consider braising a meat loaf to be blasphemous, but I love it this way too.

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The Recipe Vault #2: Pierogies

Here is the second recipe from Mom’s vast recipe collection. When I was a kid, pierogies were a big production around the house before the high holidays. A holiday family dinner typically started with plates of these delicious dumplings.

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Mom would make a dozens and dozens of them because they froze very well. As she made them she would lay them onto a floured tray then put the entire tray in a chest freezer. When a trayful of pierogies were frozen she transferred them into bags. This way the pierogies were not touching one another as they were freezing, and as a result they would not stick to one another frozen. Each bag contained a dozen pierogies, so you could pull a bag out of the freezer and drop the pierogies frozen into boiling water.

The fastest pierogi-maker I ever saw was my Aunt Stella. Sometimes, Stella would come over to help my mom when she was making a big batch. As a kid I knew I was in the presence of a master, as Stella made 2 or 3 to my mom’s 1. She may have been the fastest pierogi-maker anywhere.

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In the recipe, Mom wrote: serve with melted butter and sour cream, but that really needs an explanation. While the pierogies were in the pot, boiling, Mom would be heating up butter in a little pot. She would cook that butter until little dots of brown appeared, then continue cooking it until it became quite brown. We called this burnt butter. When the pierogies came out of the boiling water and were served up, she would pour this burnt butter all over them. Just in case this didn’t power-slam your arteries completely shut, she’d add a big dollop of sour cream on the plate.

I didn’t like pierogies much as a kid because I didn’t like the rich brown butter. I found it to be overwhelming. Much later I discovered you could fry those puppies up with onions and bacon and maybe some mushrooms, actually browning each pierogi. I liked the texture much better this way, and that’s how I prepare them at home (damn the tradition).

I don’t make pierogies often at home, but I try to do it at least once each year, often around Christmas – to carry on the tradition. The other hallmarks of a high holiday around our place would be a huge roaster of cabbage rolls, a steaming pot of kapusta (stewed cabbage), and my fave, meat sticks. As well, there had to be a big coil of kielbasa, which had to come from Czehoski’s on Queen St or later on Queensway. Mom would boil up big chunks of kielbasa, and we would eat it, steaming hot, with plenty of mustard.

Don’t let anyone tell you that store-bought pierogies are anywhere near as good as the real deal handmade at home pierogies. It isn’t so. Although there are measurements provided in the recipe, I recall that for Mom, getting the dough just right was a matter of judgement. The idea was to make dough that would be a supple and tender as possible, but still seal up well and stand up to the rigours of bouncing around in a pot of boiling water.

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The Recipe Vault #1: Chicken & Sausage

My mother collected recipes. She had cookbooks and plenty of them but she also had recipes from magazines and from newspapers and thousands of recipes which she wrote out by hand. She’s been gone many years at this point and that collection of recipes has been sitting more or less untouched in our home, waiting for me to do something with them. The core of the collection is an old Purity Cookbook, into which she stuffed additional recipes until the binding of the book collapsed and the whole deal simply grew and grew, held together by elastic bands.

Now let me say that she was quite a cook, especially when it came to meat dishes and traditional Polish dishes. She was also an excellent baker. She wasn’t so good when it came to fresh veggies. She liked to cook them until she was sure they were dead, then cook them a while longer for good measure. I recall hating asparagus growing up. Mom served it up as a soggy gelatinous mass of goo that I couldn’t believe humans actually ate. It wasn’t until I was a young adult and I was served asparagus gently sauteed with garlic at some restaurant or another that I discovered the darn things were delicious.

I think my mom wrote out and collected so many recipes because she wanted to put together a cookbook at some point or another. I think this came about both because she loved cooking for the family but also because we had a genuine chef in the family and I’m sure there was some hint of jealousy there.

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Uncle Harold and Aunt Virginia lived in Paris after the second war. Harold learned French cooking and studied music – he was a piano prodigy. They were also spies, but that’s a story for another day. After moving back to New York from Paris, Harold wrote Haute Cuisine Without Help. I have only a vague childhood memory of Harold coming to visit us in Toronto. I was pretty young. I recall him sending my brother and my dad out to catch some trout for him to cook for dinner. They did and he did.

Somehow or another I wound up with all the recipes. They are not organized at all really. I don’t know how many of them Mom actually cooked for us. I suspect she didn’t write down most of the recipes she regularly cooked because she knew them well. I suspect some of her recipes she kept because they looked interesting to her for one reason or another but many I’m sure she never cooked. They must come from a myriad of sources but she didn’t note the sources on the scraps of paper she wrote the recipes on.

My strongest memory of my mother’s cooking is from my childhood. I went to public school a block away from where we lived. One day at recess, I could smell the distinctive odour of cabbage rolls in the oven and I knew it came from our house. Years later I learned the smell came from salt pork – which she used to fry up the filling for the cabbage rolls – mixed with cabbage caramelizing on the edge of the roasting.

I’m going to try to write about some of Mom’s recipes from time to time. The first one she called Chicken & Sausage.

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I chose this one because I make something similar today. I vary the sausages and usually I use chicken thighs. Also I add both sweet and hot peppers to the mix. I keep the sausages in bigger chunks, maybe cutting each into 3 pieces. My seasoning is a bit different, but close enough. She says to cover for an hour and then cook for a half hour uncovered. I think that’s a bit out of wack. I roast mine uncovered until everything is brown and wonderful and that takes maybe an hour or an hour and 15 minutes tops at that temperature.

I don’t recall eating this dish at home growing up, but it’s possible she did make it for us. Maybe my brother or sister would remember better than I do. For sure it is comfort food of the first order. I imagine back then it was more common for Mom to have a whole chicken cut up into pieces than to buy thighs or drumsticks packaged up the way they are sold today. We likely have access to a greater variety of sausages today. This is a great meal for a cold winters day.

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Department of Shameless Self-Promotion

I have an art exhibition called Shapeworks on at Yumart here in Toronto. Yumart is at 401 Richmond – enter at the NE side of the building and it’s right there.

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Undercover, 2017, acrylic and spray paint on masonite

There will be an opening reception Saturday afternoon 2-4. Drop by and say hi.

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Orange Sea, 2017, acrylic and spray paint on masonite

Yumart is open Wednesday – Saturday 12-6. My exhibition is on until October 28, 2017.

Filed under: Art
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Clinch Mountain Backstep

I’ve been playing some of those dark “modal” tunes lately. Here’s one, called The Clinch Mountain Backstep. I believe this one comes to us from the late great Ralph Stanley, who played it with bluegrass picks rather than clawhammer (although he was a mighty clawhammer player too). Most people play this one in a tuning called Sawmill. It differs from standard G tuning in that the 2nd string is sharpened up a half-step.

This tune is so much fun to play! At some point I was playing it out on the porch and I started putting in that vibrato note at the start of the B part. It just feels right so I play it that way all the time now.