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Airplane etiquette

by ecopeland on May 7, 2013
Please and Thank you

Hello fellow passengers.

Ever read Richard Scarry’s Please and Thank You Book?

I didn’t think so.

You should.  AMAZON.  Look it up.  Order it. 

How about this?  Here’s a summary adapted for our time together on this flight. Don’t ignore it like the safety instructions.  Study it, like you do the Sky Mall Catalogue.  (I’ve seen you study that thing like your life depended on it.)

Here we go.  Prepare to be polite.  Let’s do this.

When boarding the aircraft, it’s important to note that we are all leaving at the same time, and each and every one of us has an assigned seat.  Pushing and shoving to get on first does not mean you will either score a better seat or will arrive at your destination sooner than everyone else.  Not lying.

Thank you for not doing yoga on the plane.  Clearly you are some sort of marathon yogi, and can’t possibly go more than three hours without stretching, but planes are small, and the space in front of the bathroom is not suitable for sun salutations and forward folds.  Nobody wants your butt in their face.  Nobody.

Please don’t leave your belongings in the bathroom.  Especially not your skanky old toothbrush.  Not your socks.  Certainly not your used Kleenexes.  It’s a small room people, it’s not going to take an hour to check to be sure you’ve left nothing behind.  Oh, and that thing with the picture of a garbage can on it?  It’s a garbage can.  You put garbage in it.  Cool – eh?

During the exquisite meal we may be served, please be kind to the folks behind you and put your seat in the upright position.  Does this one really need explaining?

Please be aware of your odour.  Yes.  YOU.  This includes farting, lack of deodorant/bathing, recent kielbasa eating, taking your shoes off (are you certain going to the bathroom barefoot on an airplane is one of your best decisions ever?) and overuse of perfume.  I think Febreeze should come in travel sizes.  In fact, it should be in every seat pocket, next to the barf bags.

Thank you so very much for stopping your kids from pressing the call button over and over and over and over and over again.  Oh yeah.  You didn’t do that.  The entertainment value of the constant ringing during a flight is only surpassed by watching you doing 25 laps of the plane with your wee ones.  Have you never heard of Gravol?  Google it. 

If you are fortunate enough to have an aisle seat, when folks in your row need to get up, unless they are pixies, you need to get out of your seat.   Swiveling your knees to the side is not enough – do you really want your deodorant-lacking-garlic-infused-barefoot-row-mate crawling over you?  OK.  I thought so.  Thank you, glad we sorted that out.

When airline staff announce that some folks are desperate to make a connection, and ask you to please let them deplane first, LET them.  Its travel karma.  If you don’t, one day that will be you and you’ll be screwed.  Like 8 hours in O’Hare missing your kids school concert screwed.  Your future self will thank you for taking pity on the connection missers. 

Deplaning overall seems to be a tricky concept as it relates to manners.  When the plane arrives at the gate, the first people to stand up don’t get off the plane first.  There is no prize for the first passenger to successfully extract their enormous bag from the overhead bin and place it in the aisle in everyone’s way. 

I am going to review this one carefully, because so many people don’t understand this one – although it’s pretty simple.

When deplaning, we do so ROW by ROW.  You let people gather their stuff, you help them get their bag, you wait your turn.  Let’s just say you are in row 21.  You will only move down the aisle (towards freedom from your fellow passengers), once row 20 has vacated their spots.  Is that clear?  Please get with the program.  I am begging you.

Thank you so much for your attention.  If you follow these simple guidelines, nobody will get hurt.  Let’s all be kinder gentler passengers shall we?  I am tired of giving the hairy eyeball, and I am certain you’re tired of receiving it.

Now you can get back to the Sky Mall.  I know I want to order some of those slippers with the flashing lights on the toes to light the way in the dark.  Or a life size blow up palm tree.  Or a Star Wars toaster.  I need one of those.

Please, have an awesome day.  Thank you.

 


When is a pizza not a pizza?

by ecopeland on April 25, 2013
Verona

Culinary existentialism……

Twenty minutes outside of Verona, in the small village of San Bonifacio you’ll find I Tigli.  Except, when you walk in, you’d swear you were in Milan, or New York……its ultra-sleek and cool – sort of Noma-esque – or rather how I imagine Noma to be – ‘cause sadly I have not been to Noma.  I know, poor me.

Pristine I Tigli

Pristine I Tigli

Simone Padoan presides over the fanciest pizzeria I have ever been to, and is revered as a master of his craft.  A genius.

He must be.

He has figured out how to charge 30 euros for a pizza AND have a place that is packed every night of the week.

To start we had a modest Magherita pizza.  Tomato and fior di latte.  It was just fine.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Decent, but not awesome. 

Then we had a pizza, that, well….did not look like a pizza at all.  It was more of an open faced sandwich. 

The foccaccia base – whole grain, light and chewy, was delicious.  I Tigli bakes the foccaccia with only a scant amount of mozzarella, cut it fresh from the oven into eight pieces, and artfully plate and construct each slice into a work of art.

We were permitted to order one pizza with two sets of toppings – so this pizza had smoked buffalo mozzarella, fior di latte and ribbons of shaved raw asparagus.  The other slices were graced with Ligurian pesto, Taggia olives, fior di latte (of course) and Pecorino Romano shavings.

I Tigli Asparagus 'pizza'

I Tigli Asparagus ‘pizza’

The table next to us was not impressed.   Two fellas from Naples were dying over the prices, and chortling at the thought Simone could make pizza better than their hometown.

“Is that what he calls pizza?  That’s not pizza!” they defiantly declared.

Much discussion ensued between Enrico and the Simone Padoan naysayers.  I smiled, nodded and ate.  They debated ingredients and oven types, the merits of thick vs. thin crust – voices were raised and hands were waved in order to make more firm their points of view.  You’d think they were discussing world politics or hockey – the likes I have never witnessed while noshing at Pizzeria Libretto here in Toronto.

I can only assume the boys from Naples were either not keen on the idea of raw fish on their pizzas or were on a tight budget, as they both conservatively ordered simple pizzas with tomato, culatello and fior di latte.  Maybe it was a matter of principle for them – tradition or bust.

“My daughter lives on pizza.”  Mr. Naples confided to me in Italian.

 “She loves frozen pizza.”  Pause to inhale a bite.  “She would love this.”

Ouch.  That’s rough.

Mr. Naples found out I was from Canada.   

Still in Italian…..this time with gestures of praying, and holding his heart: “Please.  This is not real pizza.”

Referring to the asparagus ribbons…

“THAT is not real pizza.  Go to Naples and go to Michele in the Tribunale area.  Order any pizza.  Any one.  It’s where Julia Roberts ate pizza in that movie about eating and yoga!”

(I wonder – was that was meant to cement credibility?)

San Daniele and Buratta, very un-Naples style

San Daniele and Buratta, very un-Naples style

Our third pizza – also foccaccia was crafted with these heavenly toppings:

Slices of beef tenderloin, fior di latte, lemon zest and arugula salad all topped with guanciale.

And my most favourite – fresh burrata with 18 month old ethereal San Daniele Ham and extra virgin olive oil. 

Delicious.

But pizza?  I don’t think so.  Maybe Mr. Naples had a point.  Best open faced sandwich of my life.

A little gelato after pizza never hurt anybody

A little gelato after pizza never hurt anybody

Here’s where I land on pizza politics:  Raw dough and toppings bonding together over 90 seconds at 800 degrees make a real pizza.  I believe you have to cut it yourself, and that slices should not be constructed.  I subscribe to a slightly charred crust, simple toppings and a small yet napkin requiring amount of sauce/olive oil/grease rolling down your chin.  And surely, it should not cost 30 euros.  But then should a sandwich?  Who am I to say?  After all, I Tigli is a mecca of ‘pizza’  -  an institution where my dear friend Enrico thankfully picked up the tab.

I must go to Michele and see what Mr. Naples and Julia Roberts were so excited about.  Eating pizza in Naples – it’s on my culinary bucket list.  For. Sure.I Tigli – If you want to stretch your ideology on pizza, go check it out – 20 minutes outside of Verona on the way to Venice.  http://www.pizzeriaitigli.it/ 

Araldo Arte Del Gusto – 15 minutes outside of Verona – they make incredible focaccia style pizza AND traditional Naples-style pizza.  It’s in the middle of nowhere – but really outstanding.  http://www.araldoartedelgusto.it/ 

Buratta and tomato pizza at Araldo Arte del Gusto

Buratta and tomato pizza at Araldo Arte del Gusto

Pizzeria Du de Cope – in the old city centre of Verona , order anything with Lardo.  You simply must.  http://www.pizzeriadudecope.it/

L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele – in case you want to follow Mr. Naple’s advice.  http://damichele.net/index.php?section=home

And finally…..

Pizzeria Libretto – back home in Toronto.  Love.  Love.  Love.  I am certain even Mr. Naples would be completely impressed.  http://pizzerialibretto.com/

Araldo Arte del Gusto 'real' pizza

Araldo Arte del Gusto ‘real’ pizza


Alinea – we finally meet

by ecopeland on April 20, 2013
Brigade at the ready

Two of our dining partners got stuck in a meeting and were late leaving the office.  Naturally it was pouring rain and not surprisingly there was an accident on the I90 into Chicago.

I called Alinea to advise we would be late.  They were polite, but clearly unimpressed.

“We have until 7:20 to get there – or else a large gaping whole opens in the earth and swallows us and our paid reservation with it.”  Blair texted our friends being held hostage at the office.

This could turn out to be the most expensive dinner I never ate.

Alinea.

Number 7 Best Restaurant in the World.  Touted my many to be the best meal of their life.  That’s a pretty bold statement.

Getting ‘tickets’ to a meal here must be strategized.  I had been trying to get in for over a year.  This time, my plan was to catch a last minute table release on Facebook.   I checked every 5 minutes looking for an opening.  I even had the draft email in my outbox all ready to go – credit card deets and everything – all I had to do was press send as soon as they declared a table available.

I had resigned myself to yet another Alinea-less evening, when late in the afternoon an opening appeared on FB.  As I hit send on the email my heart sank with nervous anticipation.  I was not kept in gastronomic limbo too long….in a few moments there as response.  I had our table for 4 for 7:00pm.  They had swiftly charged my credit card for each of us, plus tax and gratuity.  The sommelier would ‘meet‘ with us upon arrival to discuss our beverage choices.

Ever want something so bad and then when you get it you’re not sure if you want it?  Yep – that was me.  Would it be as mind blowing as everyone says it is?  Would it be contrived, and full of staff that take themselves way too seriously?  Would it be the best meal….ever?

Alinea was finally within our grasp, we could not be foiled by traffic.  Thankfully we were in the hands of Amir – super cabbie, who pulled some tricks the Chicago police force would either be totally impressed with or arrest him for.  Miraculously, we pulled up at the front door at precisely 7:00pm, made it past the bouncer and through the dimly lit, haunted house reminiscent fresh flower and marshmallow filled entryway to the restaurant.  Yes.  Fresh flower and marshmallow filled entryway.  What else were you expecting?

Osestra caviar bite

Osestra caviar bite

 

After having a look into the immaculate and near silent kitchen – a brigade of over 20 chefs and cooks, and one incredibly vigorous floor sweeper – we were led to our table – munching on our passion fruit and coriander marshmallows.  We met with the sommelier, and decided to go for the wine pairings – what the hell – our meal was practically a mortgage payment – you couldn’t drink Chicago tap with that.  We were ready to indulge.  Bring it on!

Crispy shrimp head

Crispy shrimp head

 

14 outstanding courses…..went something like this….

We were:

Delighted with a Osestra caviar spoon with geleed clarified butter.

Surprised by outstandingly delicious crispy shrimp heads filled with Japanese Togarashi aioli.

Left wanting more raw Hawaiian Opaka Paka in white soy with fresh ginger.

Veal cheek with spring bounty

Veal cheek with spring bounty

 

Educated on how to poach our Onago snapper, and ‘grill’ our own scallop on molten river rocks.

Teased with the tiniest single bite of hot and cold potato with black truffle.

Black truffle explosion

Black truffle explosion

 

Reduced to licking our plates clean of artichoke, eggplant and octopus course.

Challenged to follow the rules when presented with duck 5 ways with 60 un-named condiments – we were only supposed to match one condiment to each type of duck – but the whole thing turned into a cross between culinary tetrus and gastronomic trivial pursuit.

60 mystery condiments

60 mystery condiments

 

Entertained by green apple helium balloons, and what they can do to your voice and your hair (and I was reminded why it’s always best to be behind the camera).

Green apple candy helium baloon

Green apple candy helium baloon

 

Returned to our childhood playing with food with dark chocolate bomb and chestnut ‘ice cream’ that was ‘plated’ directly onto the table.

Playing with our food

Playing with our food

 

I know I am missing a few courses.  But you get the idea.  It was enchanting.

It was magical.

It was probably the most expensive dinner I actually ate, but worth every penny.

But…..

It was not one of my favorite meals of all time.  Of course it was amazing – its Alinea after all.  But as someone at our table sagely said – “It’s food for your brain – not for your heart.”

Lobsters in Maine.  A bowl of linguini with clams in Verona.  Pizza from our woodburning oven under the stars at the cottage.  Bacon butty at Borough Market in London.  A really fresh fried egg on toast.

Simple food.  Delicious food.  Rustic food.  These are the kinds of meals that are my favourites – these are foods I crave.

Alinea is not that.  Nor, I think is it trying to be.  Alinea is trying to stretch the imagination.  I mean really – how do they dream up candy helium balloons complete with flavoured helium?  They want to challenge you.  Make you think, appreciate, debate.  And that’s a super cool thing if you can snag a table, have room on your credit card, and can make it to the restaurant on time without the earth opening up and swallowing you and your reservation.

On the way out – we grabbed as many passion fruit and coriander marshmallows as we could.  They don’t travel well in a purse – for future reference.

https://www.alinearestaurant.com

 

 


Sure sign of spring

by ecopeland on April 6, 2013
Just the beginning

Dear weather, this is unacceptable behaviour.  Make room for spring.  I mean, it’s April and I’m still wearing a toque.

I eagerly await the tulips to poke their heads from the frozen ground, the boots to be put away, the bikes to get dusted off, and the cottage to be opened up.  And….to find some maple taffy to satisfy my spring induced craving.

Seriously winter, GTFO. 

Spring did tease us with a few maple inducing days last week, before a Friday filled with flurries. Warm snow busting sunshine, and cool crisp nights below freezing get all that sap running up and down the trunks.  Sugary water is pain-stakingly collected and at least 50% of the water is removed – ideally through old school wood fired evaporator pans.  The syrup is “finished” – boiled even further until it reaches a brix – or sugar content of 66.5%.  Its quite the process, and takes patience and love to craft maple syrup.  One tree will give approximately 40 litres of sap to produce 1 litre of syrup.  I am trying to calculate how many trees my family would need to satisfy our maple syrup consumption.  I did the math; it would roughly be…a lot.

Sure sign of spring

Sure sign of spring

My favourite maple treat of all is tire (teer) – or taffy.  Basically, its syrup further reduced 50% to sticky, intensely maple goodness.  Growing up in Montreal, I knew spring was in the air when we would head up north to go ‘sugaring off’.  (The Anglo translation for Cabane a Sucre) This is not a term you hear in Ontario – but it’s practically religion in Quebec, and my immigrant parents embraced this piece of Quebecois culture with vigour.  On a sunny weekend day each spring, we walked around the bush, inspected a few tin buckets, and gorged on stacks of pancakes, baked beans, and bacon all nestled in a lake of maple syrup….but then the best part….

Sugaring off. Good times, even if you have to wear a penguin toque.

Sugaring off. Good times, even if you have to wear a penguin toque.

Kids, popsicle sticks in hand, would head outside to a trough (literally) filled with snow, and try to elbow all the other kids out of the way, wrestling some to the ground if need be.  You had to be front and centre when Joe Louis came out of the sugar shack with a pail of piping hot taffy.  Sticks at the ready –the golden goodness was poured onto the snow, and you’d follow, twirling your stick, collecting quickly hardening taffy and bits of snow into the best. lollipop. ever.

It was a full contact sport.  I always ended up with some in my hair, some on my Miracle Mart snow suit and Cougar boots……definately all over my hands.  I would gobble it down waiting for the mad sugar rush to hit, and then prayed my parents were having one more drink at the bar (incredibly likely), one more fiddle dance in the hall, so I could line up with the kids and do it all over again.

Post-tire haze on my dad's Oldsmobile

Post-tire haze on my dad’s Oldsmobile

Last year, I decided to introduce my taffy deprived Ontario offspring to tire, and set about making some myself for a party.  It was without doubt the biggest lunch box let down of all time.  The moment my so called piping hot tire hit the snow – the snow melted (shocking, I know) creating a massive pool of super sticky maple water-slush.  Every kid at the party scooped it up and crazy-glue-like-stickiness ensued.  I had followed the recipe to a tee – using my candy thermometer and everything.  It was a complete disaster.

Next generation taffy lover

Next generation taffy lover

I am married to a true Canadian whose family has been in Ontario since the early 1800’s.  Foresters by trade, each spring, locals set up in their woods to tap trees for maple syrup.  It was always a celebration – a party – no tire (for shame), but a good time nonetheless.

Needless to say, in over 20 years of marriage, I have come to adopt the Copeland tire-less ways with maple syrup.  Here are a few of their favourite recipes. They are all tried and true – yielding much better results than my sticky tire disaster.  I promise.

Maple Mousse

This is only served on special occasions, like Christmas and Easter.  Apparently it appeared in the Globe and Mail in the early 1950’s, as part of a story on the food served at Ottawa’s Canada House. 

9 oz maple syrup

4 egg yolks

1/4 cup cold water

1 envelope gelatine

3 egg whites, beaten to stiff peaks

250ml whipping cream, whipped

 

Simmer syrup until almost boiling.

Mix egg yolks with 2 tbsp. water

Add syrup to egg, whisking constantly, until well mixed.

Dissolve gelatine in remaining water and add to egg mixture, stirring well.

Return to heat, to thicken.

Cool quickly in ice bath.

Fold in cream, then egg whites.

Pour into serving bowl and chill.

To serve, spoon into dishes and top with mixed salted nuts.  (The salted nuts simply make this divine)

 

Laura Secord’s Traditional Pancakes

This recipe is direct from The Laura Secord Canadian Cookbook.  This book was originally published in 1966, and then was out of print for many years.  Everyone in my husband’s family photocopied “the best bits” from the original cookbook to take with them as they started their own families.  This is the only pancake recipe the Copelands will use – the only acceptable variation is to add wild blueberries when in season.

Preheat griddle or heavy fry pan. 

Sift, or blend together

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

3 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

Beat together with a rotary beater

1 egg

1 ¾ cups milk

2 tablespoons melted shortening or vegetable oil

Stir in dry ingredients, beating until almost smooth.

Pour batter onto preheated griddle, using about ¼ cup batter for each pancake.  Turn when bubbles break on surface.

Serve hot with butter and maple syrup.

Makes 12-14 pancakes.

Maple Sundae  (I realize this is not really a recipe, but run with it)

When Cam was a kid, he would sometimes be allowed to go with his dad to their log cabin in the woods for a boy’s weekend.  The menu was always the same; an enormous T-bone steak cooked in the frying pan, with a tin of Le Sur French peas.  For dessert:  a cereal bowl of maple syrup, with a piece of white bread flopped on top to soak it up.  The sundae below is a distant relative of this tradition, and is a staple in our house.  I guess I just can’t wrap my mind around a bowl of syrup with a slice of Wonder bread in it….do you blame me?

Two scoops vanilla ice cream; generously pour over maple syrup, and top with roasted salted peanuts.

Maple Leaf Cocktail

This is only served at Christmas, and during the Elmvale Maple Syrup Festival, and is always poured from an antique nickel pitcher, into tiny glasses with crushed ice.  Be sure to make this one week ahead to allow all the flavours to develop.

3 cups Canadian Rye Whisky

2 cups Maple Syrup

1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

Mix together well.  Keep in fridge, stirring daily.  Serve two ounces over crushed ice.  Repeat as many times as necessary.

Mom and Dad Cabane a Sucre March 1975

Mom and Dad Cabane a Sucre March 1975

 

 


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