A Good Brunch....?!

I was reminded this morning of my ongoing inquiry into the shite-ness of brunch. The thing is, it's been a relatively good few months for brunch: good meaning nothing has been so horrendously gross and/or overpriced as to offend me into writing about it. And then today happened. It's mofo cold here (-22 C) but gloriously sunny so we walked to the very good New York-style deli for a bite of food. You know when you're reading a menu and a craving comes over you, no matter what your brain says, you must have that item? That was me with the smoked salmon. My brain kicks into say "it's never good! always fishy and stringy and greasy!" but my voice orders the smoked salmon bagel plate anyways.

And it was amaaazing. Lithe, buttery, fabulous salmon, uber-creamy, luxe cream cheese (no gak emulsifiers here), fat capers, crisp cucumber, very thinly sliced white onion and a perfectly toasted "bagel"*. I pulled off pieces of bagel, slathered them with that wicked cream cheese, capers, onion and topped with the salmon. Oh my. What a brunch! Not an overcooked egg, vile Hollandaise-wannabe, chewy slab of peameal in sight. Even the waiter was cute and efficient. So happy.


*ok, ok, it wasn't a real Jewish, boiled-in-honey, baked over a wood fire bagel. But it wasn't shite either.

Something extraordinary

It's the oddest thing. I've been cooking at home lately. I made a big, very big pot of sausage-lentil soup. Then a big tofu-egg curry. Last night was black beans and rice. And why? SO I HAVE SOMETHING NICE FOR LUNCH THE NEXT DAY. When I worked in a professional kitchen I never ever brought my lunch in; we either grazed on the crap we were working on or went out to the subsidized cafeteria for an egg salad wrap ($3).

But a few weeks ago one of my new colleagues asked if I felt pressure, as food editor, to bring in a good lunch. And I don't, ...but I do really enjoy a nice hot lunch. Cripes, who doesn't? And though there are lots of cute cafes and luncheries within walking distance of the office, that gets expensive in a hurry. And more often I'd rather take as little time away from my workload as possible. One day I made a cheddar-scallion omelette when I woke up, folded it into quarters, and took it to work where I reheated it and toasted a pita bread. Fantastic. Crazy (for me).

To top off the week, we had a cute little home-cooked Friday night meal of garlicky, buttery kale (above, yum), spicy roasted sweet potatoes and these:


Two of the fattiest, juiciest, nicest pork loin chips I've ever eaten, specially cut by my favourite butcher to have nearly an inch (!!) of fat in tact. This cooking at home thing might catch on.

Loose ends

New year's eve supper was such a major occasion for this chef-non-chef that I can't let it go without a few words.

It's not every day I get asked to cook a meal around a bottle of wine, but when the Brit brought us a 1997 Chateau d'Yquem, what else could I do? It's not the kind of wine you can just quaff with a bag of chips or some takeaway pizza; it deserves a little more respect. And I have zero experience with d'Yquem (and only a little with Sauternes in general). So I just went ahead and bought a lobe of foie gras. A good starting point if you're ever stumped. We began with:

Seared foie with Madeira-sauteed wild mushrooms over crispy polenta pillows
Seared foie with poached quince and balsamic caramel and some poorly executed challah toasts
Seared foie with spicy red onion marmalade

The wine is amazing, luscious and almost creamy on the palate, sweet but complicated, indulgent but more-ish.

We then broke for a palate-cleansing rack of lamb with roasted potatoes and parsnips (and a bottle of California cab-sauv).

Then some of my summer peaches sprinkled with the d'Yquem and then, the winner of the night, deserving of its own line

ROQUEFORT

After all that food we destroyed a giant wedge of the cheese: the pairing with the d'Yquem is that perfect. It defied description. A few slices of my Christmas cake rounded out the evening. And several whiskeys of course.

We didn't let the bling wine get to our heads though -- corned beef hash was brunch the next morning. High-low. Happy 2009.

What to do when my tight jeans are suddenly way too tight

It is finally catching up with me, all this reckless eating and drinking. The weeks of celebrating all things -- last day on the old job, the new job, first day on the job, pre-Christmas, last day of work before skiing, Christmas, post-Christmas, arriving home alive after a drive in the freezing rain, New Year's Eve, last day of the ski trip -- has had its effect. I had my "hott" jeans on the other day (nicely snug at the best of times) and they were distinctly uncomfortably tight. Crap.

So I'll try to revert to a more sensible regimen (starting tomorrow of course). Although I hate being on the new-year-must-"diet" bandwagon. I don't believe in diets, party because anyone I see drinking diet coke is pudgy, but mostly because diets make you obsessed about the foods you eat -- what you have eaten, what you are allowed to eat later, how you will get around those nasty cravings. For the most part, eating whatever I want has worked out ok for me ever since I got over the guilt of leaving something on my plate. I leave food on my plate all the time. And I already have a kind of built-in crap rejector which keeps me away from MacDo and Twinkies.

So now my suppers will involve less wine, my lunches will involve fewer cheeseburgers (a sacrifice what with the amazing Craft Burger just 50 steps from my new office), I'll try to walk everywhere and do as much yoga as I can. I threw out the last few Christmas chockies this morning; soon I'll head out to the market for tofu and grapefruits. Grudgingly.