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Ironman 3, Baked Pears and Mother’s Day

Little Sister flew in to mark Mother’s Day. She is a mother too. The consequence is compromise: selecting activities that honour the Nonagenarian and her younger daughter.

So this morning found us watching Formula 1 racing from Barcelona. Little Sister wearing a Kimi shirt and the Nonagenarian asking questions. The B&B breakfast was a nod to her. Last night Little Sister and I attended Ironman 3. She enjoyed it. I, on the other hand, felt it was Gosford Park 2.0. Do you remember how that film seemed to be two different films stitched together?  When Stephen Fry arrived as the Detective Inspector the entire tone of the film changed. Ironman 3 was like that. Apocalyptic horror and political commentary stitched to comic book hero vanquishing in a giddy, witty way a comic book villain.  Very strange.

The baked pear came about because the Nonagenarian can’t imagine a meal without dessert. Little Sister doesn’t eat dessert most of the time. The recipe was comprised of available ingredients:

  • 2 pears, cut in half, peeled and cored.
  • A vanilla bean sliced in half and scraped.
  • Maple syrup to taste.
  • Brandy

Over the slices of pear, placed in a casserole, pour maple syrup. Spread the vanilla over the pears. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Remove the pear slices to individual serving bowls. Pour brandy into the bottom of the casserole and scrape the caramelized bits off the bottom of the pan. Pour the sauce over the pears. Cool and serve with a dollop of ice cream.

A variation should you not have a vanilla bean – vanilla extract. Not artificial vanilla. I baked the pears this morning. I haven’t tasted the result yet.

Mother’s Day continues with Twilight Tea at the Windsor Arms.

 

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Panache: What Neal Caffrey and Jamie Oliver share

Neal Caffrey

Neal Caffrey (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why is panache no longer heard in everyday conversation?  Swagger is not a welcome synonym, although it may be the closest substitute in current use. I lament the loss of the word, because that indicates that the display of panache is gone. There are two notable exceptions: Panache is depicted on television by a fictional character – Neil Caffrey of White Collar -  and an internationally known chef – Jamie Oliver.

Panache is from the French word that meant a helmet feather. Henry IV of France rallied his troops, calling them to follow the feather he wore in his helmet. Panache, then, implies reckless courage and a larger-than-life sense of style. Swagger in casual conversation is used to mark style, but does not encompass courage, reducing the word to the superficial.

The character played by Matt Bomer on White Collar is the embodiment of panache, from his fedora to his insatiable appetite for adrenaline. Bomer admits that he has adopted Caffrey’s style sense. However he has never claimed Caffrey’s reckless courage as his own. [Bomer's personal courage is not in question, let me stress.] That leaves Jamie Oliver to be the contemporary champion of panache.

At least one of you is shouting, “No, not true!” You are correct, if only Oliver’s sartorial style is taken into account. Jamie still dresses like a college student. Consider his 30 minute meal series: reckless courage and larger-than-life culinary style.

“Wait,” you say. Been there, done that, with Rachel Ray. Again, you are correct. Rachel is our friend in the kitchen; the one who knows more than we do and is willing to share the knowledge. She delivers accessible, comfort food that won’t scare the pickiest five-year-old. Jamie, on the other hand, challenges us to step out of our kitchen comfort food zone. He demonstrates – with panache – how to deliver a 30 minute meal good enough to be served to your mother-in-law on her birthday – and he demands that we do so on Wednesday’s after hockey practice or Tuesday after ballet – when there is no one to impress. Jamie wants us to display reckless courage and larger-than-life sense of style in the kitchen whereas Rachel asks us to settle for a quirky burger and sweet potato fries.

For a double dose of panache, try one of Jamie’s 30 minute meals and follow it with a viewing of White Collar’s pilot episode. Oh yeah, don’t forget the glass of wine – not the plonk – but the bottle you saved for a special occasion.

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Cooking Schools: A Reason to Travel

Nutritious cookies! Really.

Nutritious cookies! Really.

My first trip to New Orleans included a morning at the New Orleans School of Cooking. I learned to make jambalaya and shrimp etouffee. I also learned how to pronounce pecan: “A pee can is something you put under the bed. A peh cahn is something you put in pie.”

When I travel I try to attend at least one cooking lesson. Not all are hands-on, so if you don’t like getting your hands dirty in the kitchen, choose a watch and learn. The result is the same as a hands-on lesson, good food and a better understanding of technique. My lessons have proved useful when dining in restaurants, because my food vocabulary has expanded. Menus are less stressful.

Last Saturday, I attended a cooking class in my home town. Bite out of Life Nutrition and Lifestyle Coaching  took the mystery out of managing lunches. [I hate making lunches. It is my least favourite meal of the day, unless I'm on a balcony overlooking an ocean with a glass of champagne in my hand.]

The first lesson, and the most important? Plan ahead. Put the work in up front, so that you are not frazzled by the end of the week. Such common sense…why didn’t I think of that?

Bite out of Life’s lessons are nutrition based, because the woman behind the recipes, Trish Krause, is a holistic nutritionist. She is also a foodie, so she ensures her healthy recipes are appetizing and great-tasting. I am adapting her quinoa salad for lunch today. The Nonagenarian is never too old to experience something new.

Trish’s next culinary workshop is October 20. She is going to explore gluten-free recipes. She holds her classes in a delightful and intimate B&B in Leslieville in Toronto. Jare’s Place is on the Queen Street car line, with easy access to theatre and shopping. The Leslieville neighbourhood abounds with delightful, quirky eateries too. The small class size and the delightful surroundings are a great combination.

During my class, we paired in teams of two. Each team made one of the recipes. We all sampled the results. Delicious!

Next time you are in Toronto, try a culinary workshop. Remember to register in advance.

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Lemon and Asparagus Risotto

risotto

risotto (Photo credit: thatgirl)

The Octogenarian and I spent a night in an inn in Pike’s Market in Seattle, a few years back. I spent more than I should for the room, but it was a special occasion. We had arrived late. The inn didn’t have a restaurant, but one of the best in the city delivered. Our room had a harbour view and a table for two in the window. If my companion had been someone other than my mother, I would have called the evening romantic.

Mother ordered risotto. I remember this as if it were yesterday, because she had never had risotto. Her first plate of risotto from a fine restaurant meant that she has had a fondness for the dish ever since. So, in an attempt to bring her back from the brink, I made lemon and asparagus risotto last night. I used a Greek white wine, astringent enough to stand up to the lemon juice. I used real butter and good olive oil and carnaroli rice. I was going for food as medicine so I couldn’t cheat on the ingredients. I grated my own Parmesan.

When all was said and done, it tasted like spring! Risotto takes time, and it was worth every minute.

I am trying a variation tonight, because I had asparagus left over. Tonight’s risotto, served with baked salmon, will include summer sweet peas. Green on green, with the crisp cleanliness of lemon. I am salivating as I think of it.

Buon appetito!

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Lesson Taught; Lesson Learned

Yesterday I wrote about the challenges of caring for the elderly. Today I can write, with relief, about a small battle won.

The octogenarian kept saying, “But I drink everyday.” So I filled up a liter measuring cup and showed her exactly what the doctor had prescribed as her daily liquid intake. She was horrified. “I never drink that much. I never did.” I can attest to the truth of that!

So I pulled out the hearing and eyesight examples, both of which have deteriorated as she has aged. The same thing is happening with regards to hydration. Your body needs it now more than it ever did. Got a grumpy hmph, so I could tell I was winning the battle. I went in for the close. “The doctor wants you to drink 4 cups a day. I will settle for 2.” I knew I could make up the rest with juice and soups.

So she drank a little more than 8 0z. at one sitting. 25% of the daily intake down the hatch. She no longer stumbles. There is a sparkle back in her eyes. She isn’t confused. Grumpy, but not confused. Oh my, what a difference a glass of water makes.

I began this about an hour ago, then the buzzer rang and I had to stop to pull the laundry out of the machines. I encountered someone who just learned his wife has stage 4 cancer. That caused my attitude to reboot and put the past week in perspective. There but for fortune go we.