Zawazawa Kitchen

Melting Onions Crisping Onions

Every time I try to melt onions I think of Micheline Gill. Micheline has been one of our best friends since we have moved to Vancouver. Over the years she has given us, especially Yoshie, the kind of deep spiritual support that only an older person can provide. In part it is her love of life that has moved us and taught us. In her 80s she can stay up drinking, talking and dancing until well after midnight. And as the night ages she becomes more graceful with it.

One of our most treasured things is a piece of needle work, lace actually, half finished, still on its pencilled pattern, that Micheline inherited from her own grandmother. What is it about our aesthetic that wants things incomplete? No doubt part of it is the opening of space (ma no torikata in Japanese). And them there is the potential that something incomplete has - not final, not ended. I think of this each time I see the tattered lace on its yellowed paper, and think of things to come, even if they have been left in the past.

Micheline is one of the best cooks we know, and one of the things she does better than anyone is onions. Her onion tarts, compotes, sauces, whatever are smooth, rich and sweet and just onion. If Yoshie is the kami-sama of tomatoes then Micheline rules over onions. Not surprizing I suppose, as she is originally from Belgium and came to Vancouver with her husband Jimmy (who we still miss) after WWII. And people in Belgium know their onions.

To melt onions all one really needs is good yellow onions, some oil, some butter, some salt, a knife and time. Mostly time. Slice the onions into rings paper thin. Soak them in ice cold water, dry and sprinkle with lots of salt. In a pan melt butter and stir in olive oil under low, low heat. As low as you can get and still melt the butter. Then stir in the onions and let them cook. This will take at least an hour. The onions will soften, become transparent, then slowly turn a softer yellow white. At the end, if you like, though it is hardly necessary, bring up the heat to medium and add some white wine (I am drinking a cheap Spanish Rioja from 100% Viura grapes as I write). Use on steaks, with scallops, spread on toast ... Onions are basically good things.

Onions are such good things that it is good to have several ways to prepare them (and of course red or white onions are good sliced thin and raw into many salads). Another approach we are using a lot in Boston is to cook them over medium low heat on a dry pan. Again, slice them thin, add salt, have the pan a little hotter but still below medium, and dry them until they are almost crispy. This makes a great garnish on any meet or a more robust fish. It is good in salads too.

Onions.

Eat Drink Man Woman (飲食男女) - Film directed by Ang Lee

Food is about more than how you make it or what it tastes like. Maybe the most important thing is who you eat it with. One of the things I miss most living in Boston is cooking with and for our extended family, with all the people who hang out at the house in Kitsilano and cook with us, eat with us, talk around the table or out in the garden. It has always been a diverse group and the house rule is that if you are at the house when dinner comes around you are welcome to stay for dinner but you have to (i) help in some way and (ii) sit down with the rest of us.

Eat Drink Man Woman is one of the great food films. It is by director Ang Lee (who also did Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon) and is set in Taiwan where a widowed, aging master of Chinese cooking and his three daughters come to terms with themselves, their sexuality (food and sex go together) and each other. The second daughter Jia-Chien and her father have an especially wrought relationship. She is the one who is the most like him, and who can cook, though at the beginning of the film he is the one who cooks, his daughters eat. But he is losing his sense of taste and working by instinct, an instinct that is not always on. At the end of the film, Jia-Chien cooks for him and for the first time he can taste what she is serving (I know it is a bit sappy, but it works for me). I can see elements of this in my relationships with all three of my kids.

The first scene, before the credits, where Master Chu is preparing Sunday dinner for his daughters is a wonderful montage of Chinese cooking. Watch carefully and you will see how much we all have to learn about ingredients, knife skills and the many layered ways to cook things. The part where he inflates the duck (or is it the chicken) is priceless.

We are happy to add posts on other films (and books, songs, poems ...) to this blog so send them in.

Lemon Pudding (The Colonel's Favourite Desert)

This is an old family recipe. It is Jiji's favourite and is becoming a favourite of some of his grandchildren. It is known in the family as "The Colonel's Favourite Desert" as Jiji, who was in the Canadian Armed Forces for many years, retiring as a Colonel, liked it so much!

The recipe comes from Jiji's mother, Marjorie Lorna Winnifred Forth (nee Baker), who was born in 1905 in Chichester, England where her father was a stone mason and worked on Chichester Cathedral. They emigrated to Canada in 1910 and settled first in Point St Charles (a suburb of Montreal) and moved later to Crawford Park in Verdun. Jiji's father, John William Forth, was born in London, England in 1902. He was born "within the sound of the Bow bells" which makes him a born Cockney. He emigrated to Canada about the same time but they didn't meet until some time in the 1920'sand were married in 1927 or early 1928 (Jiji was born in 1929). Jiji's father served in the Second World Was and was on Juno Beach on D-Day. He retired as a Brigadier General and died in 1975 at the age of 72. Jiji's mother died in 1991 at the age of  86.

• 1 c white sugar
• 1 tbsp butter
• 2 tbsp flour
• rind and juice of 1 lemon
• 1 c milk
• 2 egg yolks
• 2 egg whites

Cream sugar and butter, add flour and lemon, mix well. Beat egg yolks. Add milk and beaten egg yolks. Pour into greased baking dish. Stiffly beat egg whites and add carefully and gently.

 

Set baking dish in a pan of hot water and bake at 325 F for 1 hour.

 

Test if done by inserting knife in centre. Top should have a crust and even be a bit crispy.

 

 

 

Our Favourite Knife

A knife is the most important tool in the kitchen. Professional chefs recognize each other from the calluses they have on their palms. This is our favourite knife. We bought it about twenty years ago at a store just outside of Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo and have used it almost every day since. It is about as simple as a knife gets - steel, grey and a bit soft, a wood handle, stained with sweat and food. We hand sharpen it on only one side, most times we use it. And it cuts well. This knife is perfect for cutting vegetables, or any meat without a bone, and with its wide blade it is easy to use it to carry things to the pan. The handle fits our palms, whether because it has shaped our palms or they have shaped it - and over the years we have cooked together using this knife our hands have become more alike. The balance is not perfect, the balance point is about two centimeters past the end of the handle, but the knife is light enough that this hardly matters, and given that we chop using a Japanese style (moving the whole blade up and down rather than resting the point on the chopping surface) this may even be an advantage. We keep a newer version of this knife in Vancouver, one we got about five years ago at the same shop, but the older one in Boston is the one we use when we have a choice.

Today, the last day of May 2008, this knife sliced a grapefruit, sliced a red onion and four mushrooms, diced up four tomatoes (a bit old and soft), sliced some lemon and scraped the bottom of the pan.

Endive and Green Apple Salad

This is one of our favourite summer salads. It reminds us of eating in the garden in Kitsilano under the apple trees surrounded by flowers.

• Endives
• Green Apple (Granny Smith)
• Shallots
• Grape seed Oil
• Lemon juice (or apple vinegar)
• Sea salt
• Fresh ground pepper
• Broken hazelnuts (optional)
• Avocado (optional)

Mince shallots. Add in optional avocado (one centimeter cubes or mashed). Add sea salt, wait a bit (ten to twenty minutes) and add neutral oil (not too much, less than for a normal salad) and lemon juice (you can add a bit of a soft apple vinegar like the ones from Italy). Season with cracked pepper.

Chop endives horizontally in about three centimeter pieces (say the width of two fingers). Separate into pieces and keep any really tough pieces at the center for something else (sauté with scallops perhaps).

Cut green apples in six, remove core, slice very thinly (better to leave the skin on). Soak in salt water so that the apples won't brown.

Toss endives, apples and the optional hazelnuts with dressing just before you eat.

Tonight (May 26, 2008) we plan to have this to accompany a seafood pasta and a bottle of California Chardonnay that we brought back from San Francisco (2006 Bonterra Vineyards, Mendocino County).

The Bottom of the Pan

The crunchy pieces at the bottom of the pan are often the best bits. So one key to getting a lot of flavor is figuring out how to get these good bits (cook in ways that create a lot of stuff in the pan) and then finding ways to weave them back into the food.

Some pan techniques (getting the good bits)

• Caramelize first at a high heat, deglaze* and then cook slow. Most things taste better if they are cooked slowly at low heat (except for those things you cook fast at a high heat!).
• If things have a high moisture content, dry them as much as you can. Cook them slowly and let the water out.
• Scrape, scrape, scrape the bottom of the pan and work the flavours back into the food.
• Deglaze a several times and cook again until the pan is almost dry. Experiment with different things to deglaze with - wine of course, other alcohols, salted water when you are concentrating on the taste of what you are cooking, a vinegar (usually a simple vinegar), stock. What else can you think of? We try to avoid anything with too much sugar when we deglaze as it tends to caramelize too quickly.
• Whatever you are cooking, take a little bit and mince it. Add this at the right time (the right time depends on what you are cooking, if you want to make sure you have something a little darker add it in first, if you are searing then add the mince after).

* Deglaze, to put a liquid in a pan so that you can dissolve the tasty bits and crusts back into what you are cooking.

Sauces

Many of the best sauces are reduction sauces. After you have finished cooking deglaze the pan, add a bit more liquid and reduce at a medium low heat. Sometimes you can add a bit of butter, or if you want something more like gravy add some flour (sprinkling a bit at a time and mixing in quickly but gently). Give the reduction time to really reduce. We usually reduce the volume to 1/3 to 1/5 of what we start with. At the end, just before serving, taste and adjust the salt and pepper, squeeze in some lemon juice, add a few drops of an oil and sprinkle on some herbs. Serve just a bit on the main course.

Toppings

You can also turn the bottom bits into toppings. It is still a good idea to deglaze, but use the smallest amount of liquid that you can, and cook until the pan is almost dry and the residue crumbly. This takes practice. Check the seasoning (you have to taste things all the time while you cook, so you need to train your tongue to taste even when the food is hot). Crumble onto the food, and even add some crumbs into a salad or salad dressing.

We use these techniques with all sorts of things - meat and poultry of course, but fish and vegetables as well. I am even trying these techniques with apples in desserts.

Braised Endives

Endives are generally best raw, with some green apples or avocado, some hazelnuts with shitake, and a bit of lemon. But sometimes it is nice to have them softer and more bitter. Braised they go well with a roast chicken or anything else a bit sweet from caramelization.

• Endives, fresh is best but this is a good way to use up some that have begun to wilt
• Shallots, minced
• Olive oil
• Butter
• White wine
• Lemon
• Salt of course

Halve or if they are large quarter the endives. Soak in salted water if you want to take off some of the bitterness.

Fry up the minced shallots until just before they change colour (takes some practice) in olive oil and butter with a sprinkling of salt. Add halved endives and cook face down until they begin to brown. Flip over and continue to fry until the leaves are loosening. Add chicken stock (the simpler the better) and some white wine, cover and simmer until the stem, the toughest part, is not quite soft (test with a thin knife or fork).

Serve with a squeeze of lemon and a sweet fresh herb if you have one.

Endives can tend to be bitter. This is part of the appeal. But you may want to serve them with something sweet, like braized carrots or parsnips.

You can use this recipe with radicchio or even young lettuce (not as bitter).

Yoshie and I made this on May 3, 2008, listening to the rain inside rain, and Gidon Kremer's recording of Bach's Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin. The wine was a rather rich white from the mouth of the Loire.

Hunger and the Wolf, From the Arabian Ode in "L"

I push hunger on

   until it dies,

drive attention from it

   forget.

.

  I'd sooner swallow the dust

a dry mouthful,

   than take some man's

condescending favours.

.

Were I not shunning blame

   I would lack

no food, no drink,

   no ease of life,

.

  But this hard soul

gives me no rest

   when wronged

until I move on.

.

Wrapping my insides

   around an empty stomach pit,

like a weaver's threads

   spun and twisted.

-----

I part at down on meager fare

   like a wolf

led on, desert into desert,

   scrawny, grey.

.

He sets out at dawn, hungry,

   quick into the wind,

slicing down where the ravine ends

   and veering.

.

   He moves on in pursuit of food.

It eludes him.

   He howls. His mates respond,

hunger-worn.

.

Thin as the new moon

   ashen-faced, like arrow shafts

rattling around

   in the hand of a gambler,

.

   Like a queen bee,

swarm roused

   by the two poles of a cliff-hanging

honey-gatherer,

.

Wide jawed, gape mouthed,

   as if their jaws

were the sides of a split stick,

   grinning, grim.

.

   He howls in the empty spaces,

they howl,

   as if they and he were bereaved

on the high ridge, wailing.

.

His eyelids sag. He grows silent.

   They follow his lead.

They, he, forlorn,

   take heart from one another.

.

   He turns back. They turn back.

surging, hard pressed,

   keeping composure

over what they hide.

.

from The Arabian Ode in "L" by Shanfara

Pre-Islamic Arabic

Translated by Michael A. Sells in Desert Traces

.

Hunger is the complement of eating and you can't eat well without feeling hunger. You can't think well. Hunger on a long ride is the feeling of a body growing strong until it boinks, blood sugar exhausted, and you try to drag yourself home, hoping the water will carry you the rest of the way.

This poetry is brilliant and worth searching out.

Scallops with Ginger and Shallots

This is a simple scallop dish that we have been working on for a few years. It seems to be pretty stable and brings out what we like best about scallops - the sweetness, the texture, the way they can bring out and harmonize contrasting flavours.

We most recently cooked this on Friday April 25 when we had some friends from Monitor over for a small party (given the size of our place in the South End of Boston it is hard to have anything other than a small party!).

• Large and very fresh scallops
• Ginger, minced
• Shallots, minced
• Green onions (negi), the whites thin sliced, the part between the white and the darker green julienned into strips about 3 cm long, the dark green part thin sliced
• Chives
• Salt
• Lemon
• Lemon zest
• White wine
• A bit of grape seed oil

Dry the scallops on paper towel, sprinkling with a bit of sea salt. Drying makes it much easier to cook the scallops.

Mince the ginger and shallots, thin slice the white of the green onion. Cook gently in a bit of grape seed oil for about twenty minutes letting them blend. Bring up the heat to low medium, add a good splash of white wine and reduce.

Cook the scallops in a medium hot pan with as little oil as possible. Get a nice golden crisp on the outside. The inside should still be raw (this is important).

Remove the scallops to a warm serving dish. Put the ginger-shallot mixture into the pan that the scallops were cooked in and scrape the bits of scallop off the bottom and into the sauce. Add a bit more wine, the julienned parts of the green onion and cook for about three minutes. Add some lemon juice and adjust the seasoning (add a bit more salt, some black pepper if you like).

Pour the sauce over the scallops. Scatter on the thin-sliced dark green end of the green onion and/or some chives. Add a bit of lemon zest and a few drops of olive oil (just a very few drops).

Done.

Some variations,

• Sprinkle with deep fried shallots or deep fried garlic
• Sprinkle with bacon bits (in this case put a very small amount of the bacon fat into the sauce)
• Add small shrimp to the sauce
• Sprinkle on some edible flowers

On Friday we had this with a bottle of 2006 Christine et Stephanie Delarze from Aigle in Switzerland. A small winery on the upper Loire just inside the Swiss Alps.

Pasta Bacon Mushroom Tomato Black Olives

This is a very simple pasta dish and if you have a simple tomato sauce available it takes only twenty minutes or so to prepare. We often have this on a weekday night, or as a light meal on a weekend.

 

The idea here is to get each of the flavours distinct so that they can talk to each other. Sometimes when cooking one is looking for a deep harmony and blend of all the different flavours, like in a stew on its fifth day. Other times the goal is to have each flavour bright and distinct so that they can riff off or even challenge each other. In this case we are going for a conversation of separate flavours. And like most conversations it is better with wine.

 

·       Good bacon

·       Garlic (sliced longitudinally, not minced or cross sliced)

·       Mushrooms

·       Olive oil

·       Black olives (could try this with green, or even a mixture)

·       Tomato sauce (as simple as possible)

·       Lemon zest

·       Possibly some flat leaf parsley

·       White wine

·       Pasta (usually we use spaghetti for this)

 

Cook bacon slowly until it is well rendered and crisp. Save some of the fat.

 

Cook mushrooms just as slowly, with the garlic, in some olive oil, until the mushrooms are crisp. It takes as long as it takes.

 

Add sliced olives and some white wine and reduce.

 

Add tomato sauce (this should be as simple a tomato sauce as possible, not herbs or other distractions).

 

Add some of the bacon fat. Reduce to thicken. Season and add a little black pepper.

 

Toss with pasta, crumble on bacon, add some lemon zest, add some flat-leaf parsley or other herb.

 

Serve wine. The day after Yoshie got back from her long March 2008 trip to Tokyo and Vancouver we had this with a 2006 Dezaley de L'Eveque from Patrick Fonjallaz, a grand Cru from Lavaux on the shore of Lac Leman. They say there are three suns in Lavaux - the one in the sky, the one reflected off the lake and the one shining from the white cliffs and stone walls that terrace the vineyards. I (Steven) cycled up through here in March 2008, it is a good tough climb, on my way up Mount Pelerin.