As a few disgruntled readers have pointed out, I've been noticeably absent from the blog for a week or two. The bad news is that I've been a bit lazy due to my recent unemployment. I thought I'd have all the time in the world to cook and experiment until I found another job (I have a bit of a bright side complex), but the truth is that not having a reason to get up early in the morning is tough, and really sets a bleak and apathetic tone for the day. Coming home and cooking was always my way of leaving the work day behind, of stretching my culinary muscles and getting creative by giving the logical side of my brain a rest. I don't know if I'm more upset that my job was cut (this economy thing really does affect everyone) or that my favorite part of cooking was taken away without my permission. But that's all fodder for a different kind of blog.The good news is that I haven't actually stopped cooking, and it's still my favorite thing to do. Even better, while I probably won't be taking any road trips any time soon, my last one provided quite a bit of culinary inspiration all on its own. Our last night in Montreal involved a rich and delicious meal at Le Club Chasses et Pêche, an underground restaurant that somehow managed to blur the line between chic bordello and hunting lodge. The sleek lights were dimly lit while the amber glow of simple white candles illuminated each spectacular dish. The menu is based on the restaurant's theme of hunting and fishing (as the wall mounted antlers reinforced), and has been considered a modern and elegant take on "surf and turf". Needless to say, it is certainly the most refined version of surf and turf I've ever seen, starting with the exquisite piglet risotto, and followed by a veal and sweetbreads dish served over bacon, artichokes, greens, mushrooms and a curious unknown ingredient.
It looked like a curly seashell and crunched like a radish, but with a mild flavor that we just couldn't place. Was it a potato and the fancy knifework of a talented chef? Some kind of root vegetable? Some weirdo pearl onion? These question gnawed at me for days, until a week later I came upon the following sign at the farmers market:
After being borderline rude and slightly violent to the tourists blocking my view, I elbowed my way to the front and found the answers I'd been looking for. And after accosting the vendor with questions for a good five minutes and trying a handful of them raw, I knew I had to give these little buggers (actually called "crosnes") a go. It turns out they are popular in France and named after the town where they were cultivated after their import from China in the nineteenth century. They're also known as Chinese or Japanese artichokes, and taste like a lot like a mild sunchoke with a radishy crunch. They're meant to be eaten with the skin on, since that is what provides most of their actual flavor. Without the skin they'd be flavorless and discolor quickly. It was just my luck that they happen to be in season during the winter, which explains why I saw them twice in a row this time of year.
It didn't take long to figure out what to do with them, since I'd been wanting to try a dish based on some of the flavors I'd experienced in Montreal. Everything there had a deeper, richer flavor, even if it wasn't creamy or particularly heavy. I began to realize that everything was made with beef, veal or duck stock instead of chicken stock. There was an inherent salty goodness and depth of flavor to all of the reductions, sauces and soups, that I just wasn't used to tasting here in New York. That very day I bought some beautiful greens (rainbow swiss chard, to be exact) and delicious shiitake mushrooms, and planned to build a dish inspired by Montreal. In the end I braised the chard in beef stock, with the mushrooms and crosnes, along with shallots and lots of finely sliced garlic. The dish was amazing, and achieved exactly the kinds of flavors I was looking for. If you can't find crosnes, diced sunchoke would make a great substitute. Here's what I came up with:
Braised Swiss Chard with Shiitake Mushrooms and Crosnes
4 cups loosely packed swiss chard (I used rainbow), tough stems removed
1 1/2 cups shiitake mushrooms, sliced, stems removed
1 1/2 cups crosnes
1 cup beef or veal stock
1 large or two small shallots, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
1. Add shallots and extra virgin olive oil to a large, non-stick skillet and sauté on medium heat. When the shallots begin to caramelize, add the garlic, crosnes and mushrooms and cook until mushrooms soften.
2. Add swiss chard to skillet in batches until it's all wilted and fits in the pan. Cook a minute further, then add 1/2 cup stock and season with pepper. Cover and cook on low heat until stock is absorbed. Taste for salt (I only needed a pinch since my stock was salty). If the greens are still not cooked through, add 1/4 cup broth and cook covered until they're tender and wilted. Enjoy!
-Laura
I've gotten a lot of great feedback on my Montreal postings, and I firmly believe that's a reflection of what a wonderful time we actually had. Despite having spent only 2 full days up there, we really made the most most of it, namely in that we rarely went more than 2 hours without experiencing a full meal. And since I'm so fond of writing recipes, I thought I'd create the perfect recipe for a short, food-centric road trip. It's peppered with photos of the delicious dishes we ate, and will hopefully inspire you to grab a friend and hit the road in search of delectable treats. Consider this the National Geographic or Travel Channel special that they'll never air (but should).
1. Make sure your travel companion is equally hungry with a desire to try new dishes regardless of their reputation, and is blissfully unaware (or at least feigning ignorance) of fat content. Consider the possibility that this person may be repulsed by your incessant gorging and mouth stuffing; resist the temptation to travel with new lovers or anyone responsible for signing your paycheck. A best friend, long time companion, or someone that's seen you cry are probably your best bets. You'll thank me later.
Having seen each other go to town on ribs, burgers and the tiniest of chicken bones, Gloria and I were perfect foodie travel companions. We're not particularly picky about food and always try something new, even if it seems terribly frightening. We're happy to wait in long lines on cold days and wind our way through a new town, so long as there's delicious food at the end of our journey. This trip was no different, and as you can see, those sandwiches were no match for the likes of us.
2. Don't be the weirdo that goes on a diet during a vacation. Take the time to explore the awesome culinary wonderlands that your destination has to offer, and pack every single one of your days with as many different kinds of meals as possible. If you normally skip breakfast like I do--DON'T--take advantage of everything, and don't miss a meal or pass up a reservation to go look at a stupid statue. Make snacks and traditional fare a priority, squeezing them in whenever possible.
The three photos above are from L'Express, a traditional French bistro in the heart of Montreal. Because we'd only started planning once we were pretty much in Canada, we got mostly late night reservations--and took them all. That night may have ended at L'Express, but it began at an underground jazz club with wine, fois gras, and onion soup, followed by a stop at a divey college bar for a few Canadian beers. Sufficiently buzzed we made our way down the frosty streets of the Rue Saint Denis to L'Express for our 10 o'clock seating. We began by decimating the complimentary jar of cornichons and mustard, along with a bottle of wine. Then we tackled the most adorable lettuce topped roasted marrow and a warm goat cheese salad. Since it was late and we had to walk home, Gloria and I shared a lovely duck confit as a main course before stumbling back into the cold dark night.
3. Follow the art crowd. While it's important to check out landmark areas (where classic food can often be found), finding out where the artists and younger set go can be crucial to discovering what's new on the food scene. You may find the best coffeehouse, the gallery district, a hot new hole in the wall, or that secret only-the-locals-know-about-it shopping and eating district.
After hitting the classics, we decided to follow the art crowd down to a vintage shopping district along the Rue Saint Laurent. We ended up finding several diamonds in the rough, from kitchy antique shops with pin-up girl sales associates to excellent and affordable vintage clothing stores, and a few new places we only wish we could afford. After a few indulgent purchases between the two of us (vintage leather jacket, antique serving trays, a new coat), we made our way down the length of the rue to a coffee shop to catch a breath. On the way we spotted the Art Road Trip (A.R.T.) van, seen above, a perfect symbol of our trip, considering that we started the day with café au lait, croissant and a trip to the museum. The meal that ended our day was so delicious, so rich, so luscious, that it's already inspired a dish of its own in my house, and will have an entire post of its own. Needless to say, that meal was its own work of art that never would have been, had we not followed the art crowd.
And so, these are my tips. Proof positive that with an open mind, good company and an empty stomach, even the least planned of trips can prove to be an edible adventure. Stay tuned for my last Montreal inspired post, and the recipe that came to fruition after the trip.
-Laura
P.S.- Big thanks to Gloria for the excellent photos!
Although our trip to Montreal began with very little planned, we quickly learned that if there was one thing we had to do, it was to check out the major culinary hotspots that Montreal has to offer. While the complimentary cafe au lait and croissant at the hotel was lovely, it wasn't exactly what we were looking for. We were pleasantly surprised to learn that although many of the restaurants we planned to check out had lines (quite literally) around the block, nearly every patron was a local. And what better sign of good things to come (especially for a New Yorker) is there, than a line of patient locals willing to stand out in the cold for their lunch?
Our first must try following our first foray onto the Montreal metro (which is a lot like the one I grew up using in DC) and post art museum was Schwartz's. Famous in Montreal for their smoked meat, it didn't take long for us to high-tail it across town to stand at the end of the line around the shop and see how it compared our beloved New York pastrami sandwiches. Completely charmed by our wonderful waiter and his suggestions, we began with a can of local black cherry soda. By the time he came back to take our food order we were ready for soda #2, and knew exactly what we'd be eating. Surrounded by large plates of smoked meat, we decided to order as the locals seemed to and got a "platter". A few minutes later we had a build-your-own-sandwich cornucopia of ingredients: a plate stacked high with medium-fat smoked meat (beautifully pink and piping hot), another with sourdough bread, a huge jar of mustard and a side of the biggest dill pickle you've ever seen.
The platter made for about 6 sandwiches (depending on how high you stack 'em), and if that wasn't enough, we ordered a side of fries so delicious that even though we were stuffed to the gills, we considered a second helping. But we contained ourselves and held back since we practically had to role ourselves back to the hotel (only after a brief 3 hour shopping spree--oops). You'd think that after a meal of this proportion we'd be full for life, but foodies that we are, Gloria and I managed to fit no less than 4 or 5 meals a day during the 2 days we were there. Stay tuned for more photos and stories about some of the other places we ate, how we managed to eat every permutation of fois gras possible, and the best brunch spot in all of Montreal.
-Laura
Some of you may have noticed that I have been absent from the blog a little more than usual recently. While there is no excuse for it, I must defend myself by saying that in between my birthday and a busy work week recently, I also managed to sneak in a short trip weekend to Montreal. While I wouldn't call it a vacation because of it's length, my brief road trip was indeed filled with excellent adventures (thanks to my travelling buddy Gloria), good times and, of course, obscene amounts of food. Really, really, really good food. For a trip that was four years in the making it began with relatively little planning. Other than a hotel room, some rudimentary directions, and a few tips from friends, we had very little to go on. But, we forged ahead nonetheless, conquering the road and enjoying the vast scenery before us, knowing that once we arrived at our destination, we'd know exactly where to go, and more importantly, exactly where to eat.
The trip began as many do for us long-time city dwellers, with the sudden reminder that not only do trees still exist, they actually change color too (and good lord, had I forgotten how breathtaking they can be). As we started out in our quest up the great state up New York, through the Hudson Valley, and eventually across the border into Canada, the trees were green with intermittent pops of crimson and coral against a bright blue sky. A small detour through the lovely town of Poughkeepsie (i.e.--that hour and a half when we were lost) gave us an especially intimate look at what New York is like outside of the city. I'd forgotten what it was like pull down a car visor to block the sun, or what it felt like to wait miles and miles before finding a spot to eat (or pee, or stretch), or that sinking feeling that appears when you realize you're driving down an unfamiliar winding forest road.
The sky was a clear for miles over the horizon and the sun was an unrelenting shower of warm amber light. It was just the right time of year for the sun to conquer the cold, making it a sweaty ride despite the slightly frigid temperature outside. As we meandered our way through mountains and around gorgeous lakes, the burnt sienna and orange tones of fall overpowered the green of summer. As day turned to night and we neared the Canadian border we began to see French creep onto the road signs. Before we knew it we were waiting in line to cross over, and shortly thereafter we were drinking steins of beer with the locals and snacking on sauteed spinach with pancetta and portobello mushrooms. Our first full day in Montreal would involve 4 meals, a foray onto the local transportation system and a great deal of wine. Stay tuned for photos, stories, and some great tips on where to go in Montreal.
-Laura
