Like many kids my age, I was exposed to a truckload of silly folk music by record-playin’ semi-hippy parents.  I say silly because as a child of the seventies, and a teenager of the eighties/nineties, folk music wasn’t cool to listen to until Pearl Jam and Soundgarden opened for Neil Young (I lost my pants during a crowd-surfing adventure at that show – but I digress). My folks had a pretty extensive record collection, most of which my brother poached in the great “Chris Is Taking All Of Mom and Dad’s Records” event of the early 2000s, and we got to listen to a lot of Raffi, Anne Murray, Gordon Lightfoot, Beatles, and Huey Lewis and the News (ok, that was later) growing up.  But of those, the artist that I listen to the most as an adult is Stan Rogers, hands down.

Stan Rogers’ music has the ability to make me feel connected to this country. I’m innately Canadian when I listen to Stan Rogers. And as an added bonus, no one can really give you grief for listening to him. My staff has been quick to tease me about my other indulgences, but I haven’t heard a peep about my current playlist. It’s like criticizing Margaret Atwood. “Handmaid’s Tale? Meh. Too wordy.” People just don’t do it.

Because of my culinary upbringing, I am never just satisfied with any one part of my job. Don’t get me wrong – I love what I do, but when I visit a farm and see how the animal lives, then get it into my shop and carve muscles apart, french the bones and tie the roasts, I can’t help but want to take it a step further. Cooking is a passion and will always be. Perhaps you will see something soon which allows me to play with fire again.  When I butcher meat, I’m always thinking about how to cook it.  And in the mornings, when I’m all alone in my wee shop, listening to Stan Rogers loudly with a side of beautiful pork in front of me, boning knife in hand, I’m thinking about how I can make my food more Canadian.  This sounds as silly as my parents’ record collection, I know, but I have a sense of national pride in these small quiet moments. So with that said, here are dishes I have thought of cooking while listening to Stan Rogers’ songs. Please keep in mind these aren’t detailed recipes like others I’ve posted. Perhaps because when I think of them I’m too tired to be that organized.

The Mary Ellen Carter

- Pork Head Terrine

Brine the head overnight in salt, maple syrup, cloves, cinnamon, juniper, garlic and water. The next day poach it in a court bouillon (essentially a vegetable stock with white wine). Once cooked, cool in the liquid. Using your hands, strip all of the meat from the head. Slice the ears. Put every thing in a terrine mold and strain the liquid over the meat. Refrigerate. After it sets, unmold, and slice portions. Plate with a small salad of frisee dressed with grainy mustard. Serve with hot grilled bread and a pot of mayonnaise mixed with lots of chopped capers, gherkins, parsley, chives and mustard.

Working Joe

- Pork Shoulder Croquette

Braise pork shoulder with mirepoix, dark beer, mustard, maple syrup, rosemary, chicken stock. Cool. Strip off meat and place in mixing bowl. Add mayo, fresh breadcrumbs, chopped rosemary, and maple syrup. Form into cakes, dredge in flour, coat in egg wash and then breadcrumbs. Fry until golden and hot all the way through. Serve with pancakes. Because pancakes are delicious.

Barrett’s Privateers

Actually can’t work while listening to this song. Too much foot stompin’ and coffee drinkin’.

The House Of Orange

- Sausage

Debone a quail and stuff it with a sausage flavored with Chinese Five Spice and Maple Syrup (I totally wonder where you can find a couple of those). Wrap the stuffed quail with bacon. Using a mandolin and a knife, cut potatoes to a size mimicking rice. Make a “risotto” with the potato, flavoured with wild mushrooms, leek, and bacon. Roast the stuffed quail and serve on top of the potato risotto.

White Squall

- Rib Chop

Salt, pepper and a grill.  This song is sad as hell so I can’t think about much other than red-eyed Wiarton girls.

The Idiot

- Center Cut Pork Loin Chops

Season the chops well and fry in a hot pan until golden on each side.  Remove from pan and rest. Lower the heat and add chopped shallots and garlic to the same pan and caramelize over a low heat.  Deglaze with white wine.  Throw a handful of chopped wild mushrooms to the pan. Sauté until cooked. Add chopped parsley and chives, a squeeze of lemon, and a dash of cream.  Reheat the chops in the pan with everything else and, when hot, place the whole mess out onto a platter sided with buttery mashed potatos and a lemony green salad.

The Wreck Of The Athens Queen

- Pork Belly Confit

Render pork fat from the back. Portion the belly into squares about four inches by four inches.  Score the skin.  Cure the belly overnight with salt, sugar, garlic, thyme, rosemary, juniper and brandy. Next day, heat up the pork fat in a deep pot. Rinse the cure off of the pork belly.  Put the belly in the fat and confit at 275˚F for about three hours or four. Cool in the fat. Reheat the belly in a hot oven (450˚F), skin side down so it gets crispy.  Serve with cabbage braised in brandy and a shaved apple salad.

Northwest Passage

- Whole Roast Leg of Pork

Ok, so above all others, this is the quintessential Stan Rogers Canadian song. I think every Prime Minister since Trudeau has had to follow the footsteps of brave Kelso as a rite of passage before entering 24 Sussex. And the song seems to go on and on, much like the hard travels of the sailors who risked their lives in the north.  So a long roast of fresh ham it is. Score the skin finely and rub in marinade of salt, thyme, garlic, shallots, green onions, sage, and mustard seed and then stud with cloves. Allow the ham to marinate overnight. Roast in a low oven (275˚F) until a meat thermometer reads 145˚F when injected into the fattest part of the leg. Rest before carving. Serve with roasted root vegetables or a tomato salad, depending on what time of year it is.

So there you go. That’s the kind of stuff I think about in the morning. For some reason I think these types of recipes to be indicative of Canadian cuisine. Which is 100% unfounded, but I dare say if you ate any of these dishes whilst looking out over the vastness that is Lake Huron from a deck, and someone in your party was strumming a pretty tune on an acoustic, AND you were enjoying a cold beer, you would feel pretty darn Canadian. Or like a hoser. (According to my wife.)  I do want to point out that there’s not much reason why those particular songs inspire these recipes, other than the fact that certain tunes can put you into a certain headspace. Tom Waits is a genius at this. And so is Stan Rogers. You may not care for his music, and that’s fine, but it’s hard to deny the power this music holds over our dear nation. And that’s why I turn the volume up. I apologize in advance if you unexpectedly fall victim to the power of the Rogers.

Fear not! Avoid this calamity by doing what I do – make something that’s a little from column A, and a little from column B.  Something so diabolically righteous it’s like the devil and God went on a date that went too far due to excessive drinking, then named their little guy Meat Candy!  No one can turn down Meat Candy!  Well, I guess a vegetarian can, but in my experience they usually carry around protein bars with them at all times for dietary emergencies such as this, so don’t feel bad.  All of your meat-eating friends will love you and spread the word that you throw the best parties, even on a strict food budget.

Meat Candy

You’ll need:

4 beef short ribs, cut crosswise about 1.5 inches thick

2 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced

1 knob of ginger, peeled and sliced

1 onion, peeled and sliced

1 carrot, peeled and roughly chopped

1 stalk of celery, roughly chopped

6 star anise

2 tablespoons Ssam Jang (Korean spicy bean paste)

2-3 cups of root beer

2 cups of chicken stock

2 tbsp olive oil

salt and pepper to season

1 cup shelled and roasted peanut

2 tablespoons green onion, sliced

Pre heat the oven to 325˚F.  Lay the short ribs out on a cutting board and divide each into four or five even sized pieces.  If you cut them into five, you’ll have to maneuver around one of the bones since there are only four of them, but you’ll figure that out.  Properly season (like it’s snowing) the beef.

In a heavy-bottomed pot, heat the olive oil and sear the beef.  Remove the meat from the pot and add in the onion, garlic and ginger.  Sweat these ingredients over a medium low heat until the onions are soft and caramelized – maybe ten minutes or so.  Add the carrots, celery, star anise, and Ssam Jang and cook for another ten minutes.  Deglaze the pot with the root beer and the chicken stock, and then put the beef back in the pot.  The liquid should just cover the solid ingredients, if not add more root beer.  Bring to a simmer before putting a lid on it and placing in the oven.

Braise for about two and a half to three hours, or until the bone easily slips out of the rib.  Remove the meat from the pot and strain the braising liquid on top.  Cool down before refrigerating overnight.

The next day, pick or scrape the solidified fat from the top of the braising liquid.

In a pan, heat the meat in the sauce a little, just to get them warm all the way through.  This will make it easier to pop the bones out and discard them.  So do that, then place the meat on a cutting board so you can cut the meat into evenly sized “bites”.  Put the meat back into the pan with the sauce and simmer until the sauce reduces to a glaze, and the meat pieces are all shiny.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the kitchen, place the roasted peanuts in a food processor and pulse them until they are chunky.  Or crush them with a hammer or whatever your food processor alternative is. Add in the green onions and salt and pulse a little more, until the whole mixture looks like very coarse breadcrumbs.  Transfer the mix into a bowl.

Take your sticky, warm meat and roll it around in the peanut until well coated.  This can be a messy job so I like to use a fork and spoon to keep my fingers from getting all syrupy.  Place the finished meat candy bites on a clean plate.  Serve immediately while they’re still warm.

These little bad boys taste like a Snickers, except with meat instead of nougat.  And without the chocolate. And as a bonus, they pair excellently with wine, beer, AND cocktails.  I know…amazing, right? So dig in cheapskate, your party going to be a smashing success!

People assume because I own and work in a butcher shop, I must not eat a lot of fish.  False!  X Buzzer!  Not!  I’m blessed to have a shop in a market that boasts FOUR fish shops within spitting distance of each other (sometimes I wonder if they do spit at each other), and more importantly, they are all extremely close to us.  So it’s super easy for us to walk over from the shop and get some beauty catch of the day from any of our friends.  I realize it’s not always so easy to do the same wherever you are, but even most grocery stores have a decent seafood counter now.  It is best to acquaint yourself with Oceanwise, which is an aquatic conservation program out of the Vancouver Aquarium. Check out their website to find out what underwater critters you should be eating.  They kind of know what they’re talking about, so I trust them. If you’re looking for a store that is Oceanwise certified and crazy good, check out our homeboys and homegirls over at Hooked in Leslieville.  They also kind of know what they’re talking about.  Fact.

So anyway, a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how I want to lose some, if not all, of my fat gut.  I stopped drinking, which is great for my body but boring as all hell.  I’m boxing again, which is a killer workout.  (For the record, I don’t boxercise.  I hit things and deke out punches.  And do burpies and jump squats.  And then I barf in my mouth a little.)  And perhaps most importantly, I eat less.  Not in the way that models eat less than regular folk because it’s their job.  Just in a “I’m not going to eat that whole lobe of foie gras” type of eating less.  One great way to reduce calories is by eating fish.  A nice spot of fish after a long day of work makes me feel all clean inside, like I swallowed a loofah.  Ok, not really…that actually sounds painful.  Like I swallowed OxyClean?  Oh, forget it…it just makes me feel lighter, ya dig?

So with that in mind, here’s a nice, light fish dish that also allows me to play with comparative studies of flavours and ingredients.  I quite enjoy implementing a couple of ingredients on a plate, but with different cooking methods.  In this case: celery and peanuts.  You’ll see what I mean.

Seared Tilapia with Peanut-Braised Celery and a Roasted Peanut and Celery Salsa

For the tilapia:

Two fillets of tilapia…duh.  Get the farmed stuff from the USA – it’s a safer bet than from anywhere else.  I bisected mine for smaller portions (about 3 oz each).

Salt and pepper

One tablespoon of olive oil

On a plate, season the tilapia with the olive oil and salt and pepper.  Heat a pan over medium high heat.  Sear the tilapia for about three or four minutes a side, or until it’s golden on the outside and just flaky throughout.  Take it out of the pan and let it rest.

For the braised celery:

Four stalks of celery, each cut in half width-wise

One tablespoon of peanut butter

One teaspoon of sriracha

One clove of garlic, peeled and sliced

Two tablespoons of green onions, thinly sliced

Two tablespoons of cilantro, finely sliced

One cup of chicken stock

One teaspoon of olive oil

Salt and pepper

Wash and peel the celery.  If you don’t peel the outside of the celery, it’ll be all stringy and gross when you cut into it post-braise.  Ugh.  In a small pot, sauté the celery and garlic in olive oil for a couple of minutes over medium heat.  Season with salt and pepper.  Add the chicken stock, peanut butter, and sriracha, then turn the heat down to simmer the celery for twenty minutes. Add the herbs for the last two minutes of cooking.  Turn off the heat and set-aside until plating.

For the salsa:

Two tablespoons of shelled peanuts, roasted in a pan on the stovetop over medium heat

One stalk of celery, washed and finely diced

Half a green pepper, finely diced

Two tablespoons of green onions, thinly sliced

Two tablespoons of cilantro, finely sliced

Juice and zest of a half lime

Juice and zest of one lemon

One teaspoon of Vietnamese fish sauce (you can skip this, but please don’t)

Salt and pepper

Mix everything together and set aside until ready to use.

To plate:

Put four pieces of braised celery in the center of a plate.  Lay the seared fish on top.  Spoon the salsa on top of that.  Spoon a bit of the braising liquid around the fish.  Done.

Yummo!

So, the title of this blog is a question.  The answer is no, fish is fish.  Silly.  But both fish and meat are delicious, and I recommend eating both with reckless abandon, unless of course you can’t fit into your sexy-pants (you know the ones).  If your goal is to be able to fit through a doorway, you should go on the Biggest Loser.  If your goal is to eat a tasty dinner that sits around 243 or so calories, eat stuff like this.  Your insides will love you.

Now that my restaurant cooking days have turned into home-cooking nights, one might think that my menu creating has dwindled, but this is simply not the case.  Home cooks need to know how to come up with a dish that will please themselves and those eating the food – which is essentially the same thing a chef does, except they get paid $150,000 a year to do it.  Not.  Restaurant dishes can be fun to come up with, but there are usually a lot of factors to consider.  There were a few things I had to keep in mind when I came up with a dish that would go on the printed menu.  It is important to differentiate the printed menu from verbal specials because once your idea is committed to paper with ink, that’s it.  It usually costs money to print menus in bulk and you can’t afford to change your mind the next day (unless you do the printing yourself in which case you can go nuts and spend your day writing and printing menus, like you have all the time in the world – or you’re an executive chef).  So, in no particular order of course, here is a list of factors that can affect a menu dish.

What is available this time of year? This is the first thing I thought of, as everything has a season.  Hundreds of cookbooks are devoted to this subject, so I won’t elaborate too much.  This website is pretty useful for knowing what’s available here in Canada, though. http://www.eattheseasons.com/

What does the season inspire?  In Toronto, January food is veeeeeery different from August food.  You may have a simple pasta dish on a menu year round, but if you don’t have some kind of slowly cooked meat on your menu in January you’re missing out on some sweet customer appreciation there.  In sweltering August, a chilled soup is just smart thinking.  A dish reflects what it’s like outside.

What kind of food are you cooking? This was an easy one at the restaurant, because it was Italian.  As long as I worked within the framework of classic Italian culinary ideologies, I had free reign.  That’s harder than it sounds, because you don’t want to continuously propagate stereotypically Italian dishes (melon wrapped in prosciutto), but you do want to celebrate those dishes by creating more elaborate versions of them (Prosciutto and Fontina Panini with a Canteloupe Agrodolce).   It was also important to do this “updating” because of the style of restaurant.  If it were a more rustic environment, simpler plates would be in order.  But it wasn’t.

What do the owners like/dislike?  This is very important because unless as a chef you own your restaurant outright, there are always going to be other people who influence the menu.  Owner doesn’t like cilantro?  Then you’re not allowed to have it in the kitchen.  Owner doesn’t like lamb fat?  Best trim that fat, buster.  Owner has a penchant for shrimp?  You now always need a shrimp main course on there.  Owner’s doctor tells him to stay away from salt?  Well, that’s his problem.  But at the end of the day, you do whatever the people signing the cheques tell you to do.

What kind of customers do you have?  If you are an amazing chef with accolades, excellent reviews by all the best reviewers (like that means anything), and people devoting entire Flickr streams to your plates, chances are you don’t care about what kind of customers you have.  You probably just continuously create dishes you want to, and people fly from all over the world to try them.  And you’re a genius.  And your name is Ferran Adria.  If you are not Señor Adria, then you have to think about your demographic.  If you’re a neighborhood restaurant, you’ll want to keep that burger that everyone loves on the menu forever.  If you are a restaurant known for romance you’ll probably want to think about making your own chocolate bonbons as mignardises.  If you have a drinking crowd, have drinking crowd snacks.  When it comes to changing menu dishes, it’s best to know what your customers will let you get away with, otherwise they might go elsewhere.  No stress.

What is your current menu lacking?  This is interesting because it forces you to consider what already exists, and what is missing.  If you have a menu full of grilled meats, you may want a couple of braised meats on there.  How many vegetarian options do you have?  If the answer is none, better get with the times.  Are all of your highest selling dishes expensive to produce?  Best to reconsider buying more truffles, sonny.  You don’t have a Caesar Salad?  Good, keep it that way.

Who are you trying to emulate?  Everyone has heroes.  Especially chefs.  I used to get a lot of ideas from other chefs’ cookbooks or restaurant menus and freely adapt dishes to suit my tastes, and those of my customers.  Take the Babbo Cookbook, for example.  Mario Batali is probably the most well-respected and forward thinking Italian chef in North America.  There are many other chefs in this category (Paul Bertolli, Marc Vetri, Chris Cosentino), and everyone will have his/her own preference, but it’s hard to deny Batali’s presence at the front of Italian dining this side of the pond.  Now, the Babbo Cookbook is a beautiful book, full of amazing dishes, and when I needed some inspiration I would leaf through that book first.  An old chef I worked for once told me there is nothing new in cooking, only newer takes on old ideas.  Everyone bites everyone.  (Unless of course you’re Ferran Adria, in which case everyone bites your style and actually gives it a name – molecular – so it seems like they are doing their own thing.)  Don’t get me wrong, I think a good chef has a style uniquely their own, but as chefs we always strive to match or surpass our heroes.  Just like that kid in The Incredibles.

These are a few of the things I would have to think about as a restaurant chef, but these rules all apply to those of you who enjoy throwing dinner parties. What’s in season is the most important step, followed closely with how you’re going to cook your ingredients.  Do you want to create a French bistro feel to your meal?  Then each dish must evoke that thought – I don’t care how good your spring rolls are.  If your husband/wife hates scallops, then eat them on your own time.  If your guests are observant Jews, don’t be a prick and slip some bacon into the Brussels sprouts.  Is there a dish you are famous for amongst your friends – say a chocolate-hazelnut cake for example?  Why not change it up a little and make it with almonds and serve it with a strawberry gelato? Do you read your favourite butcher’s blog to get inspiration? That’s a great idea!

I don’t cook for hundreds of people a night anymore, but my menu writing days are far from over.  I love hosting dinner parties, and my wife and I routinely have friends and family over for Sunday roasts.  Even if I’m just cooking for the two of us I think about every part of the dish and how it goes together.  A cohesive dish on an inspired menu makes more than sense.  It makes memories.

Now, if someone actually comes in to take one of those steaks home with them (you know the drill – “I’m going to open this bottle of red wine here and let’s just see what happens, steak-y baby”) they usually have a few noble questions first.  Here are the most frequently asked questions about our steak selection; I’ll try to answer them all.

Q. Can I get a steak?

A. Yes. Yes you can.

Q. What kind of steaks do you have there?

A. We carry quite a few cuts.  Almost always we have ribeyes, striploins, tenderloins, top sirloins, and bone-in rib steak.  Sometimes we have the forty day aged côtes de bœuf or the porterhouse.  We also have a special few not-so-popular-but-super-tasty cuts we always want people to try.  They rotate between flank, bavette, hanger (or onglet, which is what I’ll call it when the hanger isn’t selling so well), skirt, and flat-iron.  Then we usually have the peppercorn-marinated eye of round steaks.  And that selection will be bumped up when I get whole grass fed beef in, as then I’ll do all of the leg steak cuts (sirloin tips, inside rounds, etc.) as well as the few shoulder steak cuts (blades, cross ribs).  Does that help, sir?

Q.  I want something super tender, what should I get?

A.  Tenderloin or flat-iron.  Tenderloin is also sometimes called the filet mignon, or “dainty slice”, if you don’t speak French.  I don’t recommend asking a butcher for a dainty slice, though. The flat-iron is a cut from the shoulder that comes a close second to tenderloin’s tenderness.  It was super fashionable on restaurant menus in Toronto a few years back due to it’s relatively low price, great flavour, and said tenderness.  Highly recommended.

Q.  I like my steaks to have a bit of fat, whaddya got?

A.  Take a ribeye.  Or a bone-in rib chop if you’re hungry.  For the record, the staff and I played the “what’s your favourite meal” game at the cottage last year and a charred bone in rib steak with a big rich southern Rhône wine was my answer.  Absolutely genius on God’s part, there.

Q.  Why is that steak not as red as that one??

A.  Oh, that would be my old friend myoglobin up to his old tricks again.  Myoglobin is a purplish-red protein in the muscle of the beef. When a steak is cut from the whole muscle and exposed to oxygen, the surface of the steak turns into bright, somewhat cherry red oxymyoglobin (are you following, kids?).  In most supermarkets, the steak is kept on trays and wrapped in a special plastic that allows in just enough oxygen to keep the steak looking cherry red for few days.  Our steaks are kept exposed to the air all the time, so they turn from this bright colour to a darker, deeper purple colour after a day or so.  Now the steak is in the metamyoglobin stage, and will still be excellent to eat.  The darker, drier steaks are mistaken for being not good and fresh.  But I assure you they are delicious.  In fact, I have quite a few customers who want the oldest, blackest steak I can give them.  And believe me, they know what they’re talking about.

Q.  How do I cook the steak?

A.  Here is a foolproof method.  Get a heavy-bottomed pan – cast iron is best but heavy stainless steel will do just fine – and put it on a medium high heat.  3 o’clock on your stovetop dial.  Put your steak on a plate and salt it liberally. I mean, pretend it’s snowing on that bad boy.  Do the same thing with freshly ground pepper.  Drizzle olive oil on the steak and rub in over each side.  When the pan is hot, and it will be if you’ve left it alone on the heat for five minutes at least, place the steak in the pan and let it sizzle.  Leave it alone and don’t poke, prod or push it around.  Depending on the thickness you’ll need to flip it over to its other side.  With a 1” thick ribeye I’ll turn it after about five minutes.  If you’re unsure, ask at the butcher’s; they should know.  Let the steak sizzle for the same amount of time as the first side.  Take the steak out of the pan and place it on a clean plate to rest for five minutes.  Don’t cut into it to see if it’s done.  Basically the only way you could have screwed it up is if it’s burnt shoe-leather.  Otherwise even a well-done steak can be enjoyable.  You won’t get the “feel” for internal cooking temperatures until you’ve cooked hundreds of steaks, so let’s just say practice makes perfect.  Now the steak is ready to eat, which leads me to the last question.

Q.  What should I eat it with?

A.  Big red wine.  A friend or lover.  And a smile.  As humans, we are privileged to be able to experience such enjoyment, so savour it.  I don’t care if you’re listening to Edith Piaf by candlelight or watching The Bachelor in your underwear.  Just don’t eat it while driving.  That’s dangerous.  Just trust me on that one.

I hope I was able to answer your questions, sir.  Oh what’s that, you’d like pork instead?  What do we have in pork?  Serious?  Well, let me tell you…

New Year’s Eve dinner was another extravagant eatfest that ended with a bellyache the following day that rivaled a Bruce County snowstorm in severity.

As you can imagine, after all of the long days and longer nights associated with the holidays, one’s body begins to change.  Grey hairs appear; feet get swollen; eyes get baggier; belts get loosened.  Now, once the first of January comes around these things can be corrected.  Grey hair?  Dye those out!  Swollen feet?  Nothing a little pedicure can’t fix.  Baggy eyes?  A little cosmetic surgery never hurt anyone!  Fat gut?  Well this seems to be a specialty of everyone from Richard Simmons to Gwyneth Paltrow (ok, not really her, but Jeebus, how much air does that skinny biz-natch eat for dinner?).  Now I’m no specialist when it comes to dieting, but I am a bit of a specialist when it comes to knowing how to cook and eat good food.  All kinds of food.  So when that special day came, maybe a week or so after Christmas, when I got out of the shower, looked down and saw a fat gut, I thought, ‘alrighty then asshat..time to put the lamb leg down and think about this for a second or two’.  I’m no different than everyone else this time of year.  I want to change things and a new year feels like it’s a fresh start.  Clean slate.  All showered, crevices cleaned and ready to go.

So this is the new action plan.  I have Post-Holiday Fat Gut Syndrome, or PHFGS for short (it kind of sounds like the name of a muppet this way, perhaps a purple muppet who stole all of the cookies from you know who).  PHFGS is a pain in the back, *ahem*, so I’m getting rid of it.  I will post recipes of dishes I make with this  action plan in mind, and I swear that no matter what, they will be delicious.  And not in that “Yay!!! We’re making healthy food!!!! Yaaaaaaay!!!!” way if you know what I mean.  I hate those people.  So with that in mind here’s my first recipe.

Breakfast in the Market

Start with a latte from Ozzy at Casa Acoreana in Kensington Market.  Ask for one sugar and he really puts in about two.  It’s a good sucker punch of calories to start the day.  Follow this with a banana or two from the produce shop across the street from the coffee shop.

That’s it folks.  This should be enough food to get you until lunch.  I’ll give you a recipe for that in a bit.  I’m sorry if you were looking for a more “meat” related recipe now, but what the hell, you shouldn’t eat meat with every meal!  That’s a one way ticket to Goutville (formally known as Fattergutville, but no one likes redundancy).  So follow me on the steaming and poaching trail to Healthytown, where everyone is sober, fit and smart!  By the way, if you don’t want to live in Healthytown forever, you can always check out Normalweightrangeforyour Heights, where the occasional glass of Carménère and slice of pizza are heartily embraced.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

In honour of creating your very own religious experience, I wanted to share with you a few ideas I had for making dinners that are a little different.  We will be selling a billion turkeys, hams, and prime ribs this month, but I ‘d like to share a couple of sweet thoughts for alternative meat courses.  There are no full recipes here, just the sparks.  If you tend to the spark, you can build it into a roaring fire.  There are plenty of specific recipes out there for these meats, but my outlines should be enough to get you started.

Maple Smoke-Roasted Pork Rack

So this is a delightful one.  A rack of pork is very similar to a rack of lamb in that there is a fat loin of meat with the rib bones running up along one side.  Each bone represents a portion with pork (ok, usually a hefty portion, but still…).  So count how many people you’re having over and figure out how much of the rack you’ll need.  Make a brine (1 part maple syrup, 1 part salt, 1 bunch of sage, 1 bunch of rosemary, 4 parts water).  Soak the pork overnight in the brine. The next day, turn ONE SIDE of your BBQ on to high.  Get one of those cedar boards they sell in fishmongers or grocery stores, usually around the salmon section.  (I know, it truly seems like there IS a whole section devoted to salmon these days, doesn’t it?)  Soak the cedar board in water for an hour.  Put the board on the hot side of the BBQ and wait until it starts smoking. Put your pork directly on the other, cooler side of the BBQ.  Close the lid BUT LEAVE A SMALL CRACK.  I perform this feat by propping a pair of tongs in between the BBQ and the lid.  While the pork loin is smoking pre-heat your oven to 350˚F.  After about thirty minutes, check on the pork.  Plenty of smoke should erupt from the BBQ. The pork should start to look browned on the outside and should also start to feel a little firm.  At this point, take the pork rack out of the BBQ and put in a roasting dish.  Place it in your oven for another half hour or forty-five minutes.  You’ll know it’s done when you stick a meat thermometer in the thickest part of the pork and it reads 145˚F.  If you don’t have a thermometer, go and get one.  They’re like five bucks.  Let the pork rest for about 20 minutes before you slice it.  Serve with apple sauce and Brussels sprouts cooked in bacon.

Apple Stuffed Capon

This idea came from Tom, a regular who apparently dominates the dinner table with his version of this dish.  First, some people may be wondering what a capon is.  A capon is a rooster who had been castrated at an early age in order for it to be less aggressive as it ages, therefore increasing the tenderness of the bird when it reaches the table.  As a capon is around 7-10 pounds, it is perfect for people who want a bird on the table but not a big turkey and not a tiny chicken.  Preheat your oven to 275˚F.  Roughly chop two onions, ten cloves of garlic, a bunch of fresh sage, and six peeled and cored apples (you can use any variety, but I like harder, less sweet varieties like spy).  Toss the chopped mixture with about five tablespoons of butter and juice from a whole lemon in a bowl.  Stuff this mixture into the cavity of a capon.  Chop another bunch of sage and 10 garlic cloves, and mix it in a bowl with a cup of soft butter, a handful of salt, plenty of ground pepper, and about two teaspoons of ground allspice.  Rub the outside of the capon very well with this mixture.  Put the bird in a roasting pan and place in the oven.  Slowly cook this beast for about three or four hours, or until the internal temperature is 160˚F.   Rest for about half an hour before carving and serving with savoury bread pudding and roasted turnips.

Slow-Cooked Lamb Shoulder

So most people associate lamb with springtime, but it is just as delicious at this time of year when it has been eating fall grasses and getting fat on the occasional apple or two.  I like all of the lamb cuts, and a roasted leg can be a delicious centerpiece at any table – but you already knew that.  How about trying a shoulder roast instead?  Slowly cooked in liquid so it is super succulent and tender, this is a roast that can blow your expectations of what a pot roast is out of the water.  Ask your butcher to bone out a whole lamb shoulder, leaving it in one piece.  Butterfly the meat so it is fairly even.  It should kind of look rectangular except for a flap where the neck was.  Cut that off (so that it won’t be flopping on the side of the roast when you roll it up) and place it on the middle of the butterflied meat.  Make a marinade like this:  zest of three lemons; one bunch each of parsley, chives, thyme, and rosemary – chopped; a teaspoon of anchovy paste  (you can get this in a tube-looks like fishy toothpaste); three tablespoons of chopped capers; three tablespoons of chopped garlic; three tablespoons of olive oil; one tablespoon of red wine vinegar; and two tablespoons of Dijon mustard.  Season the lamb shoulder with salt and fresh cracked pepper.   Spread half of the marinade all over the inside of the lamb, then roll it and tie the roll in place with twine.  Get good twine from your butcher – not the crap you can get at grocery stores that cuts your fingers when you try to tighten anything.  Spread the rest of your marinade all over the outside of your roast.  Leave in the fridge overnight.  The next day sear the outside of the roast in a heavy-bottomed pot that is deep enough to hold the roast.  Once the lamb is seared, remove it, and in the same pot sauté chopped onion, garlic, carrots, parsnips, turnips, and celery until browned.  Season with salt and pepper.  Add two tablespoons of tomato paste, and then deglaze the pot with lots of good red wine – like half a bottle.  Nestle the lamb down in the pot and top it up with chicken stock until it covers the roast.  Add a herb bundle made of bay leaves, thyme, rosemary, and parsley stems.  Make sure the bundle is tied so you can easily remove it afterwards.  Bring the liquid to a simmer, then put a lid on the pot and place the pot in an oven pre-heated to 325˚F.  Cook for about three hours or until the roast is fork tender.  This means if you stick a fork in the center of the roast it will come out cleanly and easily and the meat will feel very soft.  Let the roast cool in the liquid for about half an hour before removing it.  Using a blender, puree the braising liquid (remember to take out the herb bundle first!) and strain it into a clean pot.  Reduce it until it is sauce consistency – it should coat the back of a spoon gracefully.  Before serving, whisk some cold butter into the hot sauce; this will enrich the sauce and make it all shiny.  Slice the roast and serve some of the sauce on top and some in a side boat.  I like to serve this with a delicious herb risotto maybe, or poached carrots in warm vinaigrette.

Now these are but three alternatives to the traditional roast meal, but they serve the same purpose and still feel pretty festive.  We all want to sit at a table this time of year and break bread with loved ones.  There is nothing better out there.  From Sanagan’s Meat Locker to your table, we wish you nothing but full bellies, warm cheeks, and light hearts this December.

“I’ll take two smoked pork hocks and a chicken,” she said, seeming defeated.  She looked at me.  “You know, I’m really sick of the dishes I cook.  I want more ideas.”  I didn’t know what to say.  ”You know, I need a class or something where I could learn new dishes.  Like a cooking class.”

I looked at her and thought, ‘what kind of person buys smoked pork hocks and thinks her cooking is boring?’ And then I thought, ‘hey, I wonder if Mika at The Good Egg is teaching any classes on that topic?’  And THEN I thought, ‘hey, it’s bloggin’ time!’

I remember going to my sister’s house six or so years ago for dinner.  It was an easy meal; she was just fixing something up casually, an after work thing.  We had pasta with sausage and peppers.  It was very tasty, but what got me was that she introduced it by saying it was one of “her dishes”.  As in, a dish she had in her repertoire.  I was a snobby little shit of a restaurant cook and scoffed at the idea of not being able to cook with intuition, knowing what’s in season and riffing on what’s available in the cupboard.  I probably said something like, “hey you should really expand your culinary horizons.”

You know that feeling you have when you remember something stupid you once said and wished you could take it back?  Yeah, well…

This post will be the first in a series of recipes you can make after work easily, quickly, and deliciously.  If you have kids, these are recipes that should appeal to them.  If you don’t have kids, you should go out and enjoy yourself.  Or make one of these recipes and invite people over.  Who knows, maybe you’ll end up making a family with someone you invited over for dinner!

A quick note: I don’t apologize for the fancy plating.  You should know that’s how I roll, so just deal.

Quick’n Chicken…aka Fake’n Bake

Okay, so as far as easy recipes go, this is pretty much super basic.  Everyone likes Shake’n Bake™, and anyone who says different is either a liar or an alien from Planet Bad Stuff (also known as Uranus).  I just prefer making my own seasoned breadcrumbs.  Also, I have found that a packet of Shake’n Bake™ usually doesn’t go the distance.   As it turns out, I prefer a lot of breadcrumbs on my chicken.  You can use a different hot sauce in this recipe, or if you have wussy kids you can use ketchup or BBQ sauce, but let’s face it, Frank’s Red Hot is the best.  In the words of that old lady on the commercial, I put that s#!t on everything.  Okay, maybe not everything, but as hot sauces go it’s one of my tops.

So first off: the ingredients for the chicken.

2 chicken breasts, boneless and skinless (butchers LOOOVE taking the skin and bones off of chicken breasts.  As the shop’s good friend James says, “it shows off the butcher’s skill.”  Uh huh.)

2 good dashes of hot sauce (as mentioned earlier, I like Frank’s.  So what.)

2 cups or so of breadcrumbs  (you could make your own with stale bread, or buy some from a decent bakery)

3 or 4 cloves of garlic, chopped finely

3 or so tbsp of sliced green onions

Preheat the oven to 350˚F.  Line a baking sheet with a piece of aluminum foil.  Mix the garlic, green onion, and hot sauce with the chicken breast until well coated.  Season the breadcrumbs with salt and pepper.   Toss the chicken in the breadcrumbs until well coated.  Place the chicken breasts on the baking sheet and roast in the oven for thirty minutes, or until the internal temperature of the chicken is 165˚F.

Now on its own, this chicken is delicious.  Of course, I like to add a little sauce or something to it just because, so here is a delicious sauce made from ingredients I just had in my fridge.  I should point out that when I made this dish we hardly had anything in the fridge…pretty piss poor actually, but I do always try to make the best out of a little.

So for the sauce you’ll need:

4 tbsp of cottage cheese (or sour cream or plain yogurt, or something similar that might be in your fridge)

3 or four gherkins, chopped up

1 tbsp of capers, chopped up

2 dashes of Worcestershire

2 green olives, pitted and chopped

1 good squeeze of lemon juice

1 tbsp of green onions, chopped up

Mix all of the ingredients and season with salt and pepper to taste.  You’ll notice it is kind of thick, just add a tbsp or two of tap water to thin it out a little.

Of course you can’t serve just protein and sauce…you’ll need a little sump’n sump’n to go along side of this deliciousness.  As I said, my cupboards were kind of bare, so I improvised with what little I had and made a slaw out of it.

I took these things:

4 carrots

1 apple

half a green pepper

2 tbsp toasted hazelnuts

1 squeeze of lemon juice

And, by using a mandolin I got in Chinatown, I made this.

Obviously, I seasoned it with salt and pepper.

And then I put it all together on a plate like this:

So pretty.

Now, there are obvious variations on this basic recipe.  I like to do a classic breading a lot of the time (first dredging the chicken in flour, then an egg wash, before the seasoned hot sauce and breadcrumbs).  This will give the chicken an even crispier crust.  I also like to cut the chicken into strips and eat it as fingers or in a wrap.  Instead of this type of sauce I’ll puree the cottage cheese with blue cheese for a classic wing dip-style sauce.  I also like warm sautéed mushrooms with this, or at least some mashed potatoes.  So many options.  So many variations.  So much deliciousness.

I know this was pretty simple, but I have to say, now that I work days and need to have food on the table within a certain amount of time (you know, before Law and Order: SVU comes on) I love to make stuff that doesn’t take a lot of effort.  I apologize to everyone, including my sister, whom I may have patronized for their simple, reliable recipes back in my pretentious cook days.  I’m too old and tired for that now.  Viva la Easy!

You know what else makes me happy?  Beef.  Everything about it, really; I love how young cows are affectionate to their owners; I love the smell of manure wafting through the air as I drive along county roads in late July; I love lifting a forkful of well cooked, juicy steak to my eager mouth.  Recently at a staff party we did a round table questionnaire of what you would eat if it were your last meal on earth.  My choice was a big ole steak and a bottle of red wine.  My mouth is watering now just thinking about it.  I am blessed to own a shop that allows me to indulge in my love for beef, and also allows me to taste not only different cuts of beef, but differently fed beef.  In my shop, customers can find examples of beef fed in three different ways – grain, corn, and grass.   I always find it strange that they sell corn-fed and grain-fed beef as such, as ALL beef is raised on pasture for most of their lives.  The cattle will receive corn and/or grain as a “finishing” diet for three months or so before slaughter to fatten up the animals.  A purely grass-fed (also referred to as “grass-finished” to distinguish itself from pastured animals that are finished with some grain) diet results in a less fatty animal, and in North America we LOVE our fatty beef.  In fact, the whole grading system here is built on how well marbled beef is.  I can totally understand why, as fat carries flavourn and therefore well marbled beef is going to be juicy and flavourful in your mouth.  Think of Hansel and Gretel.  That witch TOTALLY knew what she was doing when she was fattening Hansel up with candy.  A tasty Hansel steak is what she was after.  Too bad she was dumb enough to be fooled by scared little children – but that’s another story.  I love eating beef that was finished on grain and/or corn.  I love searing a corn-fed steak until it is super caramelized on each side and the sweet fat just explodes in my mouth.  The phrase “dribbling down the corner of my mouth” comes to mind.  Ah!  Delicious!

Eating grass-fed beef is a little different.  I have yet to find a flavour comparison to eating a nice bit of grass-fed steak.   I mean, corn fed beef is awesome in the same way a juicy pork chop is awesome.  Juicy, salty, properly cooked meat is just the top.  A grass-fed steak, on the other hand, is UNIQUE. And INTERESTING.  And downright FANTASTIC.  I uppercased those adjectives because I want them to stick in your minds.  Grass-fed beef can actually taste kind of like what the animal ate.  I find the meat to be herbaceous, almost floral.  While it is true the animal isn’t as fatty or well marbled as corn/grain fed beef, the fat it does have is perfumed with the grass and herbs the beast grazed on before its time was up.   The only time I make pre-formed hamburger patties at the shop is when we have this grass-fed beef available.  I find hamburgers made from this beef to be the most delicious I’ve ever had.  And this is from a guy who thinks Whoppers are underrated.  (Which they totally are, by the way.)

Grass-fed beef isn’t the most popular style of raising beef in this province.  It can cost more, because you need a lot of land to rotate your animals through different fields.  The animals tend to be older so the return on the farmer’s initial investment isn’t quite immediate.  And realistically, the beef from a grass-fed animal looks and tastes different than what we are used to.  People don’t want to pay more money for something they are unfamiliar with.  And I don’t blame them.  Really, who’s to say you will prefer grass-fed to corn-fed?  You are.  You are the only one who will know what will make you the happiest at all times.  I won’t preach my beliefs to anyone about this, because hell, I like them both, for different reasons.  However, I will always feel it necessary to carry both, so people can decide which they prefer; which will make them happy.

No matter what I do in this short spit of an existence, I want it to be awesome.  I want to take everything I can get my hands on and give it a whirl.  And when I find out I don’t like it; I’ll leave it for something better.  Whether it is music or beef, I’m happy to be able to enjoy whatever I like to enjoy.  And being happy is the meaning of life.  Ha!  Just when you thought it was the number 42.

Massimo Capra – The first day I met Mass, he interviewed me for the entremetier position at Mistura.  We sat at the front of the restaurant, near the bar, and he asked me if I could cook volume.  ”We’re really busy here, so you can’t be slow”.  We both smoked cigarettes back then, back when that was a legal thing to do in restaurants, so we had espresso and smoked cigarettes and he told me how busy I would be.  Then we toured the kitchen.  A giant stock pot full of chicken carcasses and vegetables was simmering at the back of the range.  Massimo took a ladle, dipped it in the pot, and slurped the broth down.  ”That is a damn good broth”.  This man took an impressionable young cook and turned him into a chef.  I owe him the first round of thanks, for sure.

David Haman – Dave and I first met when I was the chef at Mistura.  He was helping the chef at Sopra (a bar/nightclub above Mistura), doing pastries.  I’ll never forget him glowing after successfully making profiteroles: “I haven’t made choux pastry in forever”.  He is a natural talent and we’ve remained in touch through his working with Cookstown Greens and now at Woodlot, where he is operating one of the most honest restaurants in Toronto.  I was recently married at the Woodlot, and it was probably the best wedding of all time.  Just saying.

Stephen Alexander – A few months after opening the Meat Locker, I got a surprise visit from Stephen, who just came into the shop to say hi and good luck. How effing cool is that?  Stephen owns probably the most successful artisanal butcher shop in the biggest city in Canada (sorry Montreal and Vancouver) and popped his head into the Meat Locker just to say what’s up.  As a chef, I’ve been lucky to use Cumbrae’s meat from time to time and I’ve always been impressed by the quality. I would be proud if we at the Locker can, at the very least, follow in his footsteps.

Mario Pingue – I haven’t spoken with Mario in a while, but he remains one of the most passionate curators of Italian food culture I know.  Many people know his Niagara Food Specialties products – his lardo is the stuff of dreams – but I was lucky enough to help him with a catering a few years back.  We made porchetta in his parents’ basement.  We grilled eggplant for the antipasti on his parents’ barbecue, which incidentally looked over his parents’ HUGE garden.  From this garden came bushels of roma tomatoes, which his mom meticulously blanched and peeled for preserving.  On quick breaks from cooking, we would drink espresso from – get this – AN ESPRESSO BAR HE BUILT IN HIS PARENTS’ LIVING ROOM.  Insane, right?  So cool.  We sold Mario’s home cured salumi at Mistura back in the day, and Massimo and I would easily eat half of the profits.  I have so much respect for that guy and his family.

Neil Vandendool – Neil’s an elk farmer and the owner of Ontario Harvest, a supplier of local, high quality meats to restaurants all over southern Ontario.  Anyone who has eaten at any of the “top Toronto restaurants” has probably stuffed their face with Neil’s goods.  I started working with Neil soon after I opened, and now I’m honoured to have a substantial amount of my inventory delivered to my door by Mario, Neil’s right hand man, twice a week.  (As a side bar, Mario was the one who gave me his grandmother’s creton recipe for our wedding favours.)  The quality of meat I get from Neil is unsurpassed, from the squabs and partridge to the elk, venison, and Limousin beef.  Definitely one of my favourite people to work with.

Steve Mitton – Steve’s the co-owner and chef of Murray Street and Murray’s Market in Ottawa.  Steve and I met when he was in town with his partner Paddy Whelan doing research before opening up the Market.  He hung out in the Locker for a day where we bonded over The Smiths and Berkshire pork.  We later went out for dinner and proceeded to barhop our way through Toronto, getting lit like we were twenty-two again.  When I awoke at seven the next morning I remembered that I wasn’t twenty two anymore.  My wife and I visited Ottawa and Murray Street a few weeks later, and a friendship was cemented.  We need more big flavour-loving, sarcastic joke-making, insanely creative and able chefs in our lives.

Paul Harding – A one-time roommate of mine, and a damn fine friend, Paul now co-owns The Only On King in London, Ontario.  The Only is a gastro-pub turned best restaurant west of Stratford.  Paul and his partner Jason share a deep respect for local food and wine which is evident every time I visit.  AND we used to stay up all night trying to beat Grand Theft Auto San Andreas whilst knocking back rye and cokes and wondering where we’ll be in five years.  Well Paul, apparently we’ll be here.  Nice job!

These are but a few names on a long list of peers who make me happy to be working in the food field.  I will probably return to this list and expand it, but I want these people to know they’re appreciated for the hard, knuckle-bleeding, hernia-inducing, scar-making work they do.  I hope I make it on to your list one day.