As usual, I try to predict the wacky world of food trends. It’s like a horoscope…I get a few right and a few wrong every year but it’s fun nonetheless. I think there will be a trend toward more interactive dining experiences. From a food perspective, I think extreme tastes (sweet, sour, bitter, salty and umami) will highlight menus: Here’s what we can expect in 2015:
Tableside Service
Dim sum service doesn’t have to be limited to weekends. Places like State Bird Provisions in San Francisco and Ma Peche in New York have made tableside service the norm. A little closer to home, Buca Yorkvile carves branzino crudo while you watch. Watch this trend to explode in 2015 as diners demand a more interactive dining experience and restaurants see the opportunity for a sweet price mark-up.
I’m a Little Bitter
Look for greens like hickory, endive, dandelion and maybe even radicchio to grace salad plates. The strong bitterness and varying colours and shapes will be like playing lego for the palates of foodies everywhere. Even better, it might come with a housemade honey/maple vinaigrette for a great contrast.
Getting in the Game
Bison, venison and maybe even elk will compete with beef on menus in 2015. The strong, gamy flavours will be more in demand than the 86 ounce steaks that graced menus in 2014. Also, look for rabbit to hop onto menus as a substitute for chicken or pork.
Duck Dynasty
Half the hipsters I see look like these lovable hillbillies, so why not eat the damn stuff too. I’m surprised duck hasn’t been deemed the other “red meat”. Although it has never declined that much in popularity, its unique flavour and versatile use makes it a strong candidate to soar up the ranks of fowl in 2015.
Pssst…achios
It’s no secret that the pistachio has been the most aggressive ad campaign to come of the Golden State since the California raisins. Once nothing more than a snack food which left red dye all over your mouth and fingers, the pistachio’s recent endorsement by the witty, satirical, side-part, spectacle wearing Stephen Colbert coupled with the fact they can used in everything from salads to desserts might result in “pistachio is the new walnut” t-shirts popping up everywhere.
Root, Root, Root for the home team.
Dainty vegetables won’t be able to withstand the assault of extreme tastes of 2015. Potatoes provide a blank canvas for all sorts of flavours. The sweetness of beets and carrots amidst bitter and spice should be a great compliment. Foodie favorites like sunchokes and salsify should round out a good year for the root.
Squash the competition
The squash is longer reserved for soup. This local fall favorite is emerging as a player across the board. It’s a great base for vegetarian dishes and pairs nicely with a number of spices including clove, nutmeg and even sage, The regional production should appease the locavores and the diversity of the gourds available make them ideal for salads and even desserts.
Korean- More popular than “The Interview”
Although Korean is already enjoying popularity in the GTA, I think there’s more to come. Twists on bibimbap and hot pots will become options on fusion menus while hole in the wall Korean joints may be chosen over a sushi bar or ramen house for a quick and inexpensive lunch. Plus, your playstation shouldn’t crash over a little bulgogi.
Micro Booze
The popularity of 40 Creek whisky within what was once seen as an impenetrable rye market plus emerging players like Gibson’s in the vodka and gin world make the small batch production of potent potables is as lucrative as micro brews. Bourbon enthusiasts will gravitate toward micro booze whether in a clever cocktail or even on tap. Look for tasting flights of infused shots of gins, vodkas and vermouths to wiggle their ways onto bar menus everywhere.
The Dumpling and Pancake: More than a way to describe your ass
The use of either a dumpling or a pancake as a canvas has limitless possibilities. To date, dim sum and gyoza have been all the rage. In 2014, we saw the emergence of savory pancakes such as latkes. Look for both to explode in 2015. From perogies to beghrir, the possibilities are endless. So will the choices on menus.
My Take
2015 will be a year filled with intense flavours highlighted by extreme taste profiles. Much of the sweet may in fact come from fruits and vegetables including beets, carrots and squash. Bitter will come from a resurgence of fragrant leafy greens and infused alcohols. Strong flavoured proteins such as game meat and duck will be needed to compliment these extreme tastes. Dumplings and pancakes will provide an ideal medium for many trendy tastes. Pistachio is the new walnut. Korean will surpass sushi and ramen as the preferred Asian provision of foodie nation. Regardless of the food, look for more options to be served tableside or in some other type of extravagant fashion. So, bring me a duck pancake atop of bed of mixed greens served under a cloche with a shot of vermouth and a pistachio cannoli pronto!
A good meal is music to the mouth. A good concert is music to the ears. I went to see Elton John in London at Bud Gardens recently and saw comparisons between his concert and a good meal.
The amuse bouche was a stunning performance of “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding”. I somewhat naively picture Elton front and centre with nothing more than him and his piano gracing the stage. Instead, he was on the left side with a complete band. It was louder than I expected as well…perhaps in part due to the fact that three quarters of the audience was over 65 and probably needed a few extra decibels of help. It was a good starting bite by hitting hard and setting the tone for the remainder of the evening.
Benny and the Jets was next and reminded me that, like many restaurants, aging doesn’t mean a change in quality. Sure, Elton’s trademark magazeeeeeeeeeene has been replaced with a lower pitch version, but it’s still a damn good song.
Some of the most memorable restaurant experiences don’t necessarily involve food but often include the people around you. Take for instance the old couple that sat in front of me. He sat stoically with him arms crossed most of the concert while she looked around like a nosy neighbour looking for dirt on the guy in Row H Seat 5 that she could share during tomorrow’s coffee session. It lead me to believe that they probably got the tickets for Xmas, are against resale and wanted to humour their kids who bought them thinking that “Daniel” was a song they actually liked. On the other side of the aisle was a couple who hit the aisles to dance feverishly to any fast song including but not limited to “Philadelphia Freedom” and “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting (although it was a Monday and I’m not sure how they’d fair in a brawl..they were definitely lovers more than they were fighters).
The appetizers included a number of slower melodies including “Candle in the Wind”, “Levon” and “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”. The latter featured a yellow submarine type video montage of Elton’s life in the background including paying homage to his husband and kids. The bright lights of iphones waved in the air and were used by numerous concert goers to record clips of the show (or in some case the whole concert). I got a kick out of one guy who whipped out an ipad to do the same. It looked like a spotlight as the brightness of the screen emphasized the 8 or 10 annoyed face within his diameter.
Throughout the concert his showmanship matched the quality of each song; there was frequent hand raising Alan Shearer style while breaking from a piano medley. He also ended each song with a bang on the piano or some kind of appreciative gesture. He would wave, bow and solicit energy from the crowd in ways that made you forget he was 66.
The main course was surprisingly high tempo. Elton pounded the piano while his supporting band kept up with him nicely. The well dressed percussionist reminded me of a good bartender at a chic downtown restaurant. He rhythmically rattled his instruments like a cocktail shaker. I imagine he would mix up a mean cocktail. Come to think of it, many Elton songs would make great cocktail names….
Love Lies Bleeding– Vodka, housemade clamato, spice medley, worchestershire sauce and spicy, pickled green bean
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road– Bourbon, Galliano, Fresh Lemon juice and gold flakes
Rocket Man– Bombay gin, muddled berries, lime juice, soda water and egg white cloud
Amidst the fast pace was the infusion of some slower tunes including the recent “Ocean’s Away” which is a tribute to the often forgotten veterans of WW1. The video played in the background and created a sombre but not uncomfortable aura in the arena (even the crowd dancers took the opportunity to rest their weary limbs).
As Elton disappeared the crowd roared into waves of cheers and claps, demanding dessert to end a near perfect meal. Elton complied, returning for a two song encore which featured songs on polar ends of his musical spectrum (I suppose a good dessert often uses the same mentality). The first was “Your Song”, the haunting ballad which pays tribute to whoever you want it to. He dedicated it to the fans who have supported him throughout the years. I figured I would take the opportunity to follow suit and record a snippet for my whoever. He ended with the fast paced Crocodile Rock in which Elton summoned the crowd to sing along…a painful reminder of why most of the audience was singing from the crowd and not from the stage.
There is a lot of congruency between a good concert and a good meal. Restaurants and arenas are mediums for artistic expression. Sure, one stimulates the ear drums and the other the taste buds but in the end both reach out to the primal desires of human beings. The importance of both food and music are evident in the earliest of civilizations. People don’t mind paying premium prices if the goods and services provided are suburb. Finally, the music or food doesn’t have to appeal to everybody but it’s utter magic when it’s the right fit. If an Elton John concert was a restaurant, I’m sure it would easily get two Michelin stars.
Bread is one of the most powerful foods on the planet. Each region of the world has taken this simple staple and has adapted it to reflect local taste, ingredients and artisan influence. There is spiritual meaning in this staple. Roman Catholics equate bread to the body of Jesus Christ. In the old testament, manna rained from the heavens during times of desert travel. Bread is the focal point of famous works of art throughout many centuries. In 1498, Leonardo Di Vinci finished the last supper which depicted the sharing of bread among Jesus and his apostles. Picasso’s “The Blind Man’s Meal” was a haunting painting featuring a small loaf of bread is characteristic of his blue period. One of the most famous pictures of the 20th century was “Grace” by American Eric Enstrom which simply shows a man saying grace in front of a loaf of bread.
The Blind Man’s Meal by Pablo Picasso-1903“Grace” by Eric Enstrom 1918
I think bread is the fashion of the food world. I grew up in a post-hippy financially constrained family. My clothes were like my bread….most times I ate Cecutti’s white bread while wearing leisure pants. I was content. It was a simple time. Grocery aisles weren’t lined with designer bread..choices were limited primarily to brown or white.Weekends were more exciting, which included a ride to Golden Grain bakery in Sudbury after church followed by a rush home so butter could be slathered on the loaf of Dark Rye while it was still warm.
One of my most vivid memories of high school was when my grade 13 teacher recited a poem called Revolution: The Vicious Circle by John Nist. He quietly sat and started muttering the word bread, repeating it over an over, raising his voice each time. By the fifth bread he was screaming like a lunatic and suddenly recited the word dead with the speed of a machine gun. After a brief pause he repeated the bread mantra again with the same deliberate crescendo, ending with a BREAD! that even woke up the dude in the back who slept through 80% of every class he ever sat in.
bread!
b r e a d !
B r e a d !
B r e a d !
B R E A D !
dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead.
dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead.
dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead.
dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead.
dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead - dead.
bread!
b r e a d !
B r e a d !
B r e a d !
B R E A D !
I can’t deny that bread, like anything else, is based on a supply and demand model. In our current age of entitlement and need for individualization, it’s not surprising that such a wide variety exists. Choices now range in the dozens but the irony is the vast majority of these are controlled by two companies; George Weston Limited Weston and Canada Bread (who is utlimately owned by Maple Leaf foods). Otherwise, the smaller bakeries are being swallowed up by others. Take for example, Guenther and Son, a Texas company who has recently acquired three Canadian bakeries including one which supplies baked goods to McDonald’s in Eastern Canada and the US Midwest.
Canada’s flawed food guide preaches that we as consumers should eat an abundant amount of baked goods but recommends whole grains to provide the necessary fibre and nutrients necessary for optimal health. Dempster’s for example (yep…owned by Canada Bread) among others have pounced on this by producing the Healthy Way line which includes the Double My Fibre!, Say No To Fat and Sugar! and Boost my Protein! (just a note..exclamation marks must mean it’s good). This whole line is nothing but a feel good means of fooling people into believing that they can rely on a quick and packaged means of providing the necessary nutrients necessary for optimal health. Each designer bread promises exactly what you need. They are surprisingly similar however. For example, Say no to Fat and Sugar! comes with the tagline “helps maintain a healthy body weight” although it has the same caloric content as Double my Fibre!. Boost my Protein! offers the same amount of protein as Double my Fibre! It’s smoke and mirrors..nothing more than disguising a similar product with an ingenious marketing program. Take the following clip for example.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8cAH_4_3RY
First of all, James Brown must be rolling in his grave. Clearly, the rock ‘n roll icon is being copied as a second rate entertainer you would hire for a birthday party. Second, it’s unclear as to what anything in this entire scene has to do with bread other than the one or two second break the guy takes to gnaw into a sandwich in between his slick dance moves. And who the hell is Jason?
Speaking of James Brown, perhaps his death may have been avoided if Dempster’s Healthy Way with ProCardio recipe bread was available. Nothing speaks cardiovascular health like this ingredient list:
Water, whole grain whole wheat flour including the germ, oat bran, wheat gluten, sugar/glucose-fructose, inulin (chicory root), yeast*, oat fibre, sugar beet fibre, plums, vegetable oil (canola or soybean), vinegar, salt, acetylated tartaric acid esters of mono and diglycerides, calcium propionate, sodium stearoyl-2-lactylate, sorbic acid, trisodium citrate 2-hydrate, potassium chloride, magnesium carbonate, natural flavour. *order may change. May contain sesame seeds, soybean and sulphites. [L804].
Other than a slightly lower amount of sodium (110 mg vs 150-200 per slice) and a good whack of fibre , I see little to justify the bold claim made on their website: “The only bread uniquely designed for those looking to maintain healthy cholesterol and blood pressure levels and reduce the risk of heart disease”. I’m unaware of any data showing the positive effects of acetylated tartaric acid of mono and diglycerides on cardiovascular health. Some will attempt to link inulin to improvements in metabolic parameters but little data exists. In fact, any benefit from inulin seems to come from ultra-high doses and usually comes at the expense of diarrhea, bloating and other GI upset.
You are What you Eat.
As mentioned, bread is a staple in the diets of many. It is rooted in symbolism and has meaning beyond simple sustenance. Therefore, it makes sense to suggest that the type of bread one prefers says a lot about themselves as a person. Take the following for example.
Home Baker
Owns at least one apron with something like “World’s Greatest Baker” or “Better than Eggspected” written on it. Announces days in advance that they will make bread with the eggspectation that everybody will be in a fasting state come the day. In turn, they consume half the homemade loaf and justifying it by citing the caloric expenditure needed to kneed bread for seven minutes. Prone to criticize any bread that isn’t theirs, especially their rival down the road who uses, gasp!, a bread maker instead of good old-fashioned elbow grease.
White Bread
Afraid to take chances and probably still lives at home. Likely rejects health professionals and their misguided calls for healthier eating. Extremely stubborn..showers with soap instead of body wash, drives with a stick shift and probably likes bologna.
Whole Wheat
Tend to think this is the only diet change necessary to sustain optimal help. Enjoys one upping white bread eaters by ordering brown toast with their greasy breakfast followed by the comment “You eventually get used to it”. Parks as close to front door of restaurant as possible.
Ancient Grains
Always had a secret desire to live off the land but didn’t develop the skills to do so. Owns a Tilly hat. Also wanted to be on the archery team in high school. Likely watches Survivor, Siberia and Get Out Alive with Bear Grylls. Secretly tapes shows on OLN and about Mayan history.
Naan
If Caucasian, attributes consuming naan bread to a spiritual awakening resulting in the opening of the third eye chakra which further demonstrates their spiritual superiority over their friends and family. Shakes head at those who block their chakras by eating the European stuff.
Roti
Just like the Naan eater but one ups them by claiming a yeast intolerance in addition to the need for chakra cleansing.
Injera
Actively seeks and embraces new food trends to justify donning plastic rimmed glasses and vats of hair gel. Biggest enemy is the naan eater who is outdated by following a food trend that is so 2011. Uses wikipedia frequently to remind themselves why they eat injera and to learn at least one other kind of Ethiopian food. Opts for sandals over shoes.
Also appealing to running room enthusiasts who attribute their improved endurance to the consumption of the same carbohydrate as Ethiopian marathon runners. Specifically, they cite the super grain teff not realizing that ironically most injera in Canada is made with wheat, barley and rye, a stark contrast to their belief that wheat belly is the leading cause of sluggishness in North America (also see gluten free).
Bagels
Thinks that nutritional pundits who equate one bagel with four slices of bread are leaders of a government conspiracy. Rolls eyes at those who fail to match flavoured bagels with the appropriate cream cheese. Swears the best bagels are either in Montreal or New York even though they’ve never been to either city.
Vegetable Bread
Subscribe to Today’s Parent magazine and pat themselves on the back for fooling their children and/or spouse into eating healthy. May not eat this bread themselves since they like real vegetables but have empathy for those who don’t. Like crows, attracted to shiny things like orange bread and scantily clad yoga enthusiasts in television commercials.
Healthy Way- Double my Fibre!
Sees a good day as one that includes at least one bowel movement. Have convinced themselves that orange flavoured Metamucil tastes good. Hobbies include watching the Price is Right, reading Prevention magazine and rushing to the grocery store when toilet paper goes on sale.
Healthy Way- Boost my Protein!
Believes that no amount of protein a day is enough and likely washes it down with a whey shake. May lather with 2 tbsp of mayonnaise because they read somewhere that like protein, liberal consumption of fat at meals makes you feel full….and it’s healthy fat! Could possibly be seen wearing a bandana or a muscle shirt depicting some animal dressed as a human pumping heavy amounts of iron.
Healthy Way with ProCardio Recipe
Reluctant to take medications since they think all health professionals (except Dr. Oz) are in the pockets of big pharmaceutical companies and swear they can reduce their risk of heart disease by eating bread, listening to Cat Stevens and walking their dog Muffy. They smell like garlic, drink 14 cups of green tea a day and take melatonin so they can sleep at night.
Thin Slice
Also buy 100 calorie portion controlled chips, chocolate bars and soft drinks. Reads the less than 600 calorie menu at restaurant but opts for the burger promising to return to lean cuisines tomorrow. Watches “The Biggest Loser” while eating frozen yogurt instead of ice cream and thinks Jillian Michaels is an inhabitant of the planet “Awesome”.
Thick Slice/Texas toast
Laughs at any joke or statement containing the words “it’s not the length, it’s the width that matters” or “Everything is bigger in Texas”. Thinks breakfasts with two eggs and Hondas are for sissies. Likely has a tattoo paying homage to either their country or mother. Drives a domestic car or pickup with a bumper sticker which says “If you can’t stand behind our troops, feel free to stand in front of them”, ” Still have a job? Keep buying Foreign” or “If you can read this, you’re too f@#*ing close”. Either that or they really like french toast.
Stays Fresh Bread
Takes 3 weeks to eat a loaf of bread. Otherwise, likely has built an underground shelter with the belief that Armageddon is imminent and that the only survivors will be themselves, cockroaches and their loaf of Dempster’s Stay Fresh white bread. Not concerned with the fact this bread has less nutritional value than a bag of sugar.
Gluten Free
Insists that gluten free bread is delicious even though it isn’t. Uses lines like “Man, I think the sorghum to millet ratio in this bread is fabulous..well worth the $14.50” and then insist they don’t even miss the real thing. Repeats the same behavior with brownies, cake, wraps, muffins, cupcakes, bagels, tarts, squares, pasta, cereal and pancake mix. Those around them smile and nod and binge on anything with gluten at their first opportunity, complete with some sort of lactose and/or caffeine containing beverage.
My Take
The once sacred art of making bread has been replaced with the mass production of designer brands with more substance on the package than in the loaf itself. Gone are the days where a table would share a loaf equally among all. If Di Vinci painted the last supper today I wonder if there would be an array of bread to satisfy each palate. Maybe before betraying Jesus, Judas Iscariot would prefer Texas toast while Bartholemew would opt for gluten free. In the end, through devious marketing campaigns, celebrity endorsements and misleading product claims, consumers are left confused when they stroll down the bakery aisle at the local grocery store. This spiritual staple, like other foods, has been bastardized by corporate juggernauts who disguise the bottom line as a commitment to improving the health of consumers everywhere.
I tend to hit my fair share of diners in my travels. In the past few years there has been a resurgence of the old diner concept with new establishments popping up in even some of the chic metropolitan areas of big cities (places like The Little Goat in Chicago and Rose and Sons in Toronto). Although the “evolution” of new school diners have grasped onto some of the concepts of their ancestors (such as vinyl booths and counter seating), nothing can replace some aspects that make the old school diner what it is.
Here are a few observations I have made about diners:
1. Ninety-percent of old school diners are either named after a person or some kind of geographical entity or location. In Sudbury, I grew up going to Gloria’s restaurant. The Countryview diner in Chatham inspired me to write this blog. There’s the Lakeview in Toronto, the Southside restaurant in London and the Elgin Street diner in Ottawa. The fact that there is there is no view of a river at the Riverview or that Alice’s is owned by some dude named Paul seems a moot point in the diner culture.
2. Much like you can count on any Chinese restaurant to have either a cocktail menu or a horoscope written on their disposable menus (which eventually will be laden with bright red sweet and sour sauce), diners slap down the generic bilingual Welcome/Bienvenue mats which quickly get soaked with egg grease or globs of strawberry jam. The table is also adorned with a carousel of prepackaged peanut butter, strawberry jams and orange marmalade (which in fact may be the same marmalade that has been there since 1984), hard butter packets and creamers which not only lighten the less than stellar coffee but serve as building blocks for bored 6 year olds who eventually shove one or two in their mouths and pop them much to the chagrin of the accompanying family members.
4. As much as the show “Two Broke Girls” annoys the hell out of me, it’s a fair depiction of the old school diner. The blackboard is reserved for the soup of the day plus/minus today’s special which tends to be a classic comfort dish. My personal favorite is the “hot hamburg” (the “er” on the end of hamburger is entirely optional for some reason) in which a hamburger patty in placed between two slices of white bread and laden with rich gravy and served with frozen crinkle cut fries and “homemade” slaw. The special also comes with soup or juice as a side. I’ve always been intrigued by how the provision of a 3 oz shot glass of juice even compares to a steaming bowl of “homemade” soup. The same show also depicts the reality that the minimum age to work behind the cash in a diner is 70 (perhaps this was the inspiration for Pearl Jam’s “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town)”. This person is clearly the quarterback of the organization despite the fact they take ten minutes to enter the price of each of the hand written orders into the Casio cash register and verify with the waitress that I indeed ordered the addition of grilled onions on my homefries for $0.45. The process is interrupted two or three times when the cashier engages in a conversation with the three of four regulars about the size of Mabel’s homegrown pumpkin or the fact that toilet paper is on sale at the local grocery store.
5. Rice pudding and jello are mandatory desserts in any old school diner. Furthermore, the pudding must be topped with an amount of cinnamon equal to a Rob Ford stash and the red or green jello must be cut into squares with architecture I.M. Pei would envy.
6. Small town diners ultimately have a dichotomy of staff. On one side is the surly old woman who could tell you the number of pieces of gum stuck under table twelve, the amount of force you hit to hit the chugging ice machine with to keep it fully functional and the name of every regular who has walked in since the sixties. On the other is the 17 year old “friend of the family” waitress whose angst is evident in the nose piercing (which later becomes the focal point of conversations at the counter when she’s not there). This angst is partially rooted in the slight reality that she, like her coworker, may never leave the tight web of a small town and be forced to marry some guy named Billy and have a stag and doe the whole town will attend.
In the end, I adore diners. They scream Canadiana in the same fashion as snowbanks and poutine. Whether they have stayed the same for 50 years, evolved over time (including replacing old staff with hipsters with an equally surly attitude) or recently opened with adherence to an old school philosophy (like Mae’s in Detroit), they are a fundamental component of the food service structure and deserve respect. I think of the numerous food network shows in which the celebrity chefs cite the perfect fried egg as the pinnacle of culinary expertise yet it’s second nature to many of the seasoned veterans who grace the grills of diners across the country.
I decided to test my luck by trying out for the Masterchef open casting a little while back. I watch the US show and often wondered what it would be like to stand face to face with Joe Bastianich and watch his blood boil after I called him a mama’s boy and prepared for a cast iron pan to the side of the head (or at least a good tongue lashing and that ridiculous stare). I also dreamed of witnessing Graham Elliot piercing a perfectly cooked poached egg yolk from up close and watch him savour the flavour while staring intently toward the roof as he chewed. Finally, I wanted to hear Gordon Ramsay up close, referring to everything as the most delicious, freshest (insert food name here) and explain and maybe demonstrate the appropriate means of cooking such food.
On the other hand, let’s be real. The odds that any of these judges do more than make a guest appearance are astronomical. Instead, I anticipate Canadian contestants will be dealt one of the half dozen celebrity chefs which grace the airways (that of course depends on whether Bell’s CTV and the Shaw’s Food Network Canada can play nice in the kitchen). Might we see the likes of Mark McEwen, Lynn Crawford, Chuck Hughes or Anna Olson? Or may we see a new crop of judges, possibly chosen with the same rigor and cookie-cutter approach as the contestants themselves.
One option was sending in an application with a video in advance; the other was just showing up, crossing your fingers and hoping for the best. I put my cinematographic hat on and planned to film myself caressing grape leaves in my back yard in my best seductive voice while explaining how to stuff and serve them. Instead, I ran out of time and just decided to show up on day 2 and roll the die. I decided on street food, choosing to make my Poppin’ shrimp tacos in hopes of showing my knowledge of food trends coupled with some pretty standard culinary skills (I’m planning to post the recipe to my Veg..Eat..Ales blog shorty). I spent a number of hours refining everything from the taco shells to the corn pop coated shrimp to the sauces which would slathered on top of the finished dish.
I live 2 hours away from the tryouts, so I arranged to stay at a buddy’s place, figuring I could awake at the crack of dawn and compile a winning dish with plenty of time. The night before I hunted Kensington and Chinatown for an Ontario grown cabbage and fresh shrimp. With the mission accomplished, I grabbed a quick bite at Valdez (review later), got back and crashed, setting the alarm for 4 am, giving myself plenty of time to prep in time for the 7am start.
Different shrimp, different pans and a different stove makes for a different product. I burnt my first four shrimp in seconds. I’m sure I impressed my buddy’s floor mates as I filled his apartment with smoke at 430 am. I eventually figured it out and produced 4 pretty decent looking shrimp. I made the tortillas, fried them and stored them in paper towels to keep moist, mixed the jalapeno lime slaw, packed it all into my cooler and walked over to the open casting a few blocks away. The dish had to be served at room temperature many hours later, so I hoped each component would maintain its integrity. I opted for three small tacos as opposed to a single large one in an effort to showcase the three different sauces I prepared as well as the fact that I made my own tortilla shells from scratch.
I arrived at about 635. Once in line, I received my green wristband marked #43. Shortly after, the line grew longer and I was confident that I would have my turn prior to dusk. I waited patiently and we were soon greeted by the staff to be happy when the cameras came by. Some of us were even given signs like “I want to spoon with Gordon” to rouse the cheers.
My assigned wristband
Eventually, I was whisked into the hotel and followed a tedious process to get registered, sign my life away and get my mugshot taken. I went from number 43 on a wristband to H6 on a blue sheet and was sent into a holding room with about 100 others to await my fate. The cast of characters ranged from 18 year old aspiring chefs to a guy who look in his 60’s wearing a blue blazer and red converse shoes. At first, most of us held their coolers like they were live organs, unwilling to share any trade secrets (although our food was already prepared) As we warmed up to each other (unlike the food which had to be served at room temperature), we started to divulge stories about ourselves and our dishes. It was surreal. For example, there was:
a stoic, retired RCMP officer who started saying next to nothing, told us countless stories about the police force before, in a authoritative voice, disclosing that he had made blueberry lavender butter tarts as his signature dish.
A self proclaimed bitchy mom who actually became a bitchy mom when everybody started calling her Krissy.
A guy in a lobster shirt who served…..pork tortillas.
A woman who, after realizing the wait was going to be a lot longer than she expected, left only to return 10 minutes later with a fully loaded hot dog from a cart outside the hotel which she proceeded to eat in street meat fashion in front of a hundred, cranky and hungry onlookers.
When your group is finally called you enter what feels likes a steam room and set up your station. By luck of the draw, I was front and centre in row 1. Forty-seven other contestants set up in the same way. The rules were simple. Once the clock started, you had three minutes to plate. So, I mixed the slaw, threw down the shells…two minutes… filled them , topped with shrimp and…..one minute remaining began the final garnish. Before I knew it, the familiar shout of “hands up” filled the room and I was unable to top my tacos with chopped cilantro. Regardless, I was pleased with the dish and got prepared for the judges. After judging we were allowed to snap pictures although all I had was my low resolution blackberry camera.
Poppin’ Shrimp tacos with cilantro, avocado and chipotle cream sauce
The aforementioned blue sheet had my number on one side and the scoring system on the other. Essentially, contestants are judged on taste, appearance, creativity, food knowledge and quality of ingredients. In addition, there was room for judges to add comments about personal stories and aspirations of each of the contestants. The main food judges were the executive producers of Masterchef USA. Other judges included a number involved in the Canadian production. Since I was at the first table, the judges got to me soon. She confirmed my use of homemade tortillas, cut my shrimp to check if it was cooked and asked me if I used three different sauces. I boasted yes, yes and yes. The second judge asked me about the shrimp and I told her about my corn pop coating. She said it sounded that something David Chang would do. That comment alone was like scoring a birdie during a shitty round of golf…anything else didn’t matter.
So, after an extensive judging period in which not a single judge tasted anything I made, deliberations began. It was like waiting for a court decision. My row speculated that the longer it took, the more likely we were to go through. In the meantime, we wandered around the room and admired each other’s dishes. There was chocolate ravioli, ceviches, tartares, a whole pork roast with three sauces, gluten free cupcakes, ribs and all sorts of other things. After about 30 minutes, they returned and instructed us to either return to the holding room for further interviews if we made it or take the walk of shame out the front door and back to the mundane life of cooking without fanfare and pressure if we didn’t.
In the end, I was dismissed. I think the most frustrating part was not having any idea why. Was it my boring story about cooking in a way that will appeal to my kids? Was it the fact I opted for street food as opposed to something more refined? Whatever it was, it wasn’t the taste because..well….they didn’t taste it.
I’m looking forward to the show which should air in January, hoping I recognize a few of the finalists. Although I won’t be one of them, I can tell those around me that I would have made it if my hair was blue , if they actually tasted my food or if I made something more refined (as they smile at you while thinking in their heads.. “You must have been really bad because I can’t believe that schmuck went further than you did). In the end, it was a fun experience and I can honesty say there are no sour grapes, although I may use them should I choose to try out next year. Roasted venison with a sour grape reduction on a bed of quinoa and woodland mushrooms…I like the sound of that.
I remember listening to the song “Signs” by Five Man Electrical Band (and later Tesla) when growing up. It speaks of the tribulations of a hippie trying to get a job or into a country club without a membership card. It was a scream at the state of society in the early 70s and reminds me of what it’s like trying to enjoy a meal in a restaurant in 2012.
The rules have changed in food service and establishments since the Five Man Electrical Band but remain as outdated as they were back then. Currently, establishments will have you believe that their rules are not an expression of pretension but in fact a matter of improving efficiency and adhering to good business practices. I call bull shit. Here are the some of the most ridiculous rules in food service today:
1. No Reservations with No Regret
I question any establishment who informs me that at this time “we regret at this time we are unable to accept reservations”. Open Table provides online reservations for over 25 000 restaurants across North America. Each one of these restaurants is “able” to accept reservations. Last time I checked the combination of a phone number, a hostess and a paper calendar is another way to ensure that people reserve a seat. I commend any restaurant whose success warrants an exclusion from the need to make a reservation, but it doesn’t help when meeting friends you haven’t seen in years or trying to impress a girlfriend, spouse or customer. “Hey, honey, I knew you’d enjoy standing in line for 45 minutes for the privilege of eating here” sounds much more romantic rolling of the tongue than “I knew you’d like this place so I made a reservation a month ago to make sure we could get in”.
As an example, the Mandarin, one of the busiest buffet restaurants in Ontario, willingly takes reservations although they don’t really need to so you don’t have to leave Gramma standing in the front door waiting for her chicken balls.
2. “As a result of our policy, we won’t seat you until your entire party has arrived”.
I’m puzzled by this one. I recently went to a restaurant where I was footing the bill for 9 people who were in various meeting during the day. I made a reservation (see it works!), let everybody know and was informed at the door, despite 8 of the 9 of us arriving, that we would not be seated until the whole party showed. I suppose I understand the fact that it makes much more sense to clog the doorway with people waiting to eat than just sitting them down and letting them start on overpriced cocktails and appetizers. I guess I could of loaded up the clown car and have us all roll in at the same time so as not to create any inconvenience for the restaurant.
3. “We can’t give you separate bills”
I challenge anybody to ask the poor waiter or waitress the reason for this policy. I guarantee you will be 25 different answers ranging from “It’s just our policy” to “our system doesn’t allow us to separate the bills”. I can’t argue with the first one since the answer is so clear and logical. Policy is policy. The second is amusing. I mean, you have a system that allows you to hit a computer screen with your finger and spit out a ticket to tell the kitchen that you want a medium well burger with extra pickle, no mayo and onion rings instead of fries but it can’t split a bill. You are also suggesting that your system is unable to take a $180 bill among 6 people and split it evenly. I’m sure any ten-year old has this same question on a math test and can figure out using a Texas Instruments calculator.
4. Cash Only
I understand that credit card companies are greedy, money-grubbing scum but they’re damn convenient. They let you spend what you want on a meal without having to do the calculations in your head based on the money in your pocket. I’d hate to skip out on the key lime pie because I ordered a side of grits with my brisket and only have 40 bucks in cash. There are surcharges that restaurants endure to carry Visa/MC/AMEX which increases business costs, but in many cases they are absorbed when pricing the menu.
I guess what I don’t understand is the fact that the “cash only” concept is now considered hip by some. I’ve been in a few restaurants where the server has proudly informed me of the policy with or without a phony apology. Others raise their eyebrows as passively stare at the “Cash only” written on the blackboard while clearing their throat. Don’t get me wrong, there are some helpful places. Some are kind enough to install an ATM in the establishment so you can absorb all the costs including whatever service charge they program into the machine. Another was kind enough to tell me that I could order first and that the nearest bank machine was about 500 metres down the road. I left and it felt good.
Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not adverse to paying cash, especially at food trucks, bars and hot dog carts. However, I don’t like being forced to do it, especially when I’m racking up a decent bill with drinks, entrees etc. It’s not like I see a significant cost savings passed to me especially when I’m sitting in a near condemned house at a formica table with mismatched chairs eating $14 eggs bennie off corningware plates I saw at a yard sale last week.
So, things really haven’t changed much since 1970. Whereas then you had to have a tie and a membership card to get inside, today you just need patience, your whole group and a big wad of cash.
“Organic food” is a term that has always made me scratch my head a little. The definition of organic, based on dicitionary.com is as follows:
adjective
1.
noting or pertaining to a class of chemical compounds that formerly comprised only those existing in or derived from plants or animals, but that now includes all other compounds of carbon.
So, based on the definition, everything you eat is organic unless you swallow pennies or eat paper clips. However, the term organic has evolved to define the pinnacle of food, both in price and shelf space in a grocery store. Some advocates for organic food have compared consumption of organic foods vs “conventional” food to that of breast vs bottle feeding in newborns. The same people will insist you haven’t lived until you’ve had an “organism*” eating unsprayed papaya.
The breaking news yesterday was the study out of Stanford comparing organic and conventional food in terms of nutritional value, pesticide content and risk of bacterial infection. The shocking report confirmed what I assume most people know already. There is no difference in the nutritional value of the food and there are more pesticides on the foods where pesticides were used. Both groups were below the accepted level dictated by local regulatory bodies. A small side note was the higher risk of bacteria resistant to three or more antibiotics in conventional versus organic food.
Simply stated, a strawberry is a strawberry whether organic or conventional. The difference is one has pesticides on it. That’s about it. It may bring down the organic pundits a bit but the controversy surrounding the acceptable level of pesticides in foods was not addressed in this study which allows that camp to plant a very organic seed of doubt.
I’m not against organic food or organic food producers but I am against those who scold value conscious people and parents for not spending premium dollars to fill their families’ bellies with only the best, most nutritious food. Another fact is that organic eating doesn’t necessarily mean healthy eating. The body doesn’t differentiate between high caloric baked goods made with organic flour and butter and those which are not. Too many organic calories will bulk the waist the same as consumption of conventional foods.
It’s also important to keep in mind that an organic banana may still travel the same distance as the conventional banana and leave the same carbon footprint. I know…let’s call one the organic footprint and the other a conventional carbon footprint. Now I feel better.
Many restaurants are selling the farm to table concept and rightfully so. It’s more about local and less about organic. Local produce is abundant and in season right now. In many cases, it has traveled less than 100 km to get the store or market. It is full of colour and flavour. Let’s just wash and prepare it properly and I think we’ll all be good whether it’s organic or not.
*-organism is a feeling close to sexual fulfillment brought on only by consumption of organic foodstuffs.
Before I heard of Carl Jung, I had no idea what synchronicity was other than a decent early eighties Police album. However, as I trudge along my journey, I think I have tapped into the concept of culinary synchronicity. Here’s a story:
Some people tell me “I think your 12 year old daughter is walking in your footsteps”. They might have a point. A few hours ago, she suggested we travel to Detroit before school starts to hit up a few diners, drive-ins and dives. After I wiped the tear from my eye (I’m so proud of her), I proceeded with the normal events of a typical Friday night (ie. watching either reruns or prime time shows that get moved to Friday since they have fizzled out every other night of the week). Enter synchronicity.
I had a sudden urge to flip the station and listen to Guy Fieri fill me with his excitable discussions of mom and pop eateries across the USA. Within 15 seconds, I was greeted with Guy standing outside Supino Pizzeria in Detroit touting the Chicken Wing Thing pizza using smoked turkey legs . Synchronicity I.
On the next episode of the mini Friday night Marathon, Guy shows up in Detroit again touting the Polish Village Cafe and feasting on Hungarian pancakes and pierogi. Synchronicity II.
Episode three brings hot pepper jelly beans and pork salad from Traffic Jam and Snug in…..you got it…Detroit. O My God!
A quick assessment made me realize it’s pointless to deny the inevitable. Motown, here we come! After all, who am I to question the direction of the universe or the roaring demands of the food gods above?
On another note, during these same episodes, Guy also foreshadowed my trip to Vancouver in October by giving me a sneak peak of Fresh, Local, Wild for seafood fries and pulled pork at Jethro’s Fine Grub. I love it when a plan comes together.
These synchronous acts got me thinking. To answer the question “If you could have dinner with three people, living or dead, who would it be?” I may have to choose Carl Jung, Sting and Guy Fieri so I can pitch my theory of culinary synchronicity, be told to follow my gut (which may be substantially larger at this time tomorrow) and maybe get a book, album and a show out of it. As for a meeting place, I’m thinking tea in the Sahara would be most appropriate.
It has been said that there are two things even friends shouldn’t discuss; religion and politics. I would like to propose a third…coffee.
Coffee is the probably the world’s most acceptable drug and is available to anybody who wants it, even if they are self-proclaimed addicts. Baristas, uniformed teens and crotchety old waitresses alike have license to brew and dose and distribute the goods to any caffiend, day or night. The unword dictionary (www.unwords.com) defines a caffiend as follows:
Caffiend
(kă’fēnd)
1. (n.) One who is obsessed with consuming caffeine. Often surpasses caffeinatics in quantities of caffeine in the blood stream and in level of addiction.
I have witnessed many passionate arguments about coffee among caffiends. It seems a large proportion of the population pledges allegiance to a certain consumption camp and there is very little tolerance for those who subscribe to a different philosophy.
The Tim Horton’s caffiend (THC) is the lowest on the totem pole among coffee consuming peers. They are drawn to the functional aspect of the beverage and seemingly sacrifice richness and taste for convenience and the ability to win a barbeque or a car twice a year. Terminology includes” Large Double Double”. They justify their habit by stressing that they pay less then two dollars for a coffee they need two hands to carry and that they can get a sour cream glazed donut or a yogurt parfait at the same time.
The Starbucks caffiend (SBC) is the mortal enemy of the group above. Seen a pretentious and snobby by the THC, they are often identified by Lululemon yoga pants, sandals or laptops. The terminology is more advanced and expansive with terms such as “Grande extra hot no foam unsweetened decaf mocha with room for dairy for Jenifer with one n”. They react to trends such as matcha powder and green coffee extract and couple it with cake pops or butter chicken wraps. Their justification is you get what you pay for and drinking Starbucks is just more morally and socially responsible. They also think the emblem isn’t creepy.
The independent coffeehouse caffiend (ICC) is a smaller but loyal group. Entry into this group simply involves ignoring the 5 Starbucks (with an optional eye roll) you pass on the way to a quirky establishment. Not fond of Timbucktoos (my term used to describe those who frequent Tim Horton’s or Starbucks), they think the clean spoon/dirty spoon bins are good for the environment and often ask for fair trade coffee and agave nectar although they don’t know what either one is. They are not as concerned about the food available since they are “there for the coffee”; although a locally sourced sandwich may convince them otherwise.
Sit three guys at a Tim’s and bring up SBCs (or the weather) and an immediate brotherhood is formed. Meanwhile, at Starbucks the mere mention of the fact that Tim Horton’s coffee tastes like an ashtray unite old and young together some lemon poppy seed cake or samples of the cookies and cream frappuccino. Meanwhile, the ICCs sit oblivious to the world around them in mismatched chairs and admire the melancholic art on the wall while serenaded by an acoustic guitar. Mix these crowds, however, and you ignite fireworks similar to that of a Catholic vs Protestant or Democrat vs Republican. I would expect the coffee to fly if I wasn’t for the fact that it is..well….coffee.
I suppose I’m an ICC but I prefer to not judge others. I think coffee is under appreciated, I don’t need room for dairy and I do enjoy the uniqueness of stand alone coffee shops. I have learned more from them than I ever have from a Starbucks or Timmy’s (see my Te Aro blog post…..coming soon). So lets all get along, sip our brew and make fun of those who don’t drink coffee at all. A good friend of mine once said to me “Why would I take a perfectly good glass of water and run it through dirt?” Those are fighting words, buddy.
Yesterday, I logged onto a Zagat/Google hangout with Anthony Bourdain. Anthony’s first book, Kitchen Confidential, was a tribute of all of us who ever worked in a kitchen. In fact, I’d consider it the “Fifty Shades of Grey” of culinary literature.
By self-admission, he is a true celebrity chef (which means he doesn’t cook). He’s been a welcome addition to the Top Chef series and he is well known for his show “No Reservations”. His candid opinions, and not his cooking, are his trademark. In short, he’s cool, has good hair and uses phrases like “9 1/2 weeks style szechuan hot pot”. He’s one of the original hipster chefs (along with Marco Pierre-White..who also has great hair), earning the respect he gets and not assuming he has it because he uses a checkered tea towel as a napkin in his restaurant.
I was intrigued and amused by this webcast. Nine people were selected to be featured across the bottom and ask a question to break up Anthony’s banter. Some of the questions were a bit silly (but who am I to argue with a guy wearing a chef’s coat while listening to a computer broadcast) , but some of the discussion is worth sharing:
His choice for a death row dinner would be one piece of sea urchin sushi. He wouldn’t want to make a mess when he dies.
Deep dish pizza should be banned. Nothing beats a good margherita pizza.
If he was at a day camp and had to choose three chefs to join him, he would choose Mario Batali, David Chang and Eric Ripert.
He respectfully paid homage to Julia Child, who would of been 100 yesterday, telling us she brought multimedia cooking to America and was a pioneer in helping people live and eat better. RIP Julia.
The Zagat/Google marriage (sounds nicer than takeover) is a smart one and this is a good example. Anthony Bourdain is a culinary god. As a guy who is adventurous in the kitchen but has no formal training, I liked one of his comments (I’m paraphrasing a bit):
“You gotta screw up to learn; burn your fingers before you understand how to apply heat to protein”.
Fare..Eat..Ales 