Catching up on the Cooking: Good Friday's Good Food

When thinking of Good Friday, the typical theme is fasting. And indeed, among other reasons, I certainly fasted last Friday and thus felt justified in preparing a not-so-typical meal for dinner when I visited home last weekend. Still keeping with the no meat rule, I cooked a cheese encrusted pan-seared salmon, and spaghetti with asparagus and mushroom. Of note, this time of the year beckons such simple ingredients as those needed for these particular dishes, while also providing much leeway in terms of adjusting for the ingredients you already have in your kitchen.

The Visit of Sungara, the Easter Bunny's Kenyan Cousin

A few days ago, I was asked the question "Have you ever had bunny cake?" Not having been a huge fan of coconut, I responded with "No." It is from that point forward the bunny cake challenge was proposed. And so it happened; after baking, sculpting, frosting, coating, and shaping, Sungara was born. As I explained to some of my colleagues, in celebration of the first day of sun in what has seemed like ages, Sungara (Swahili for "rabbit") (or roughly translated in "Erik"-speak, "Pete") came to visit our office. In actuality, Sungara is made of a white butter cake and coated with buttercream frosting and coconut, with jelly bean eyes and a nose.

I Was Hungry Last Night, So I Cooked Food

Unsurprisingly, I found myself hungry last night and decided to cook some food. While I typically do not post recipes or "common" meal experiences, this is one that has helped to shape how I identify what I find to be in the spirit of this blog. This said, I am writing about this part of my journey because I was able to use some of the chicken and chicken stock I recently broke down and made, respectively!

Happy Birthday Beth

As it turned out, the birthday of Beth (our ISS/MCSA Administrative Assistant) was mid-week last week, but in the tumult of all the event planning, we had waiting until last Friday to celebrate it. Before Friday and the great Flash Mob, I asked Beth what her favourite cake was and she responded with the one type I was hoping she would not say: red velvet cake. As you may know by now, dear Reader, I am up for a wide range of culinary challenges, but there was something about the traditional flavours of a red cake and cream cheese frosting that made it seem like quite a daunting task. To boot, I am not all that familiar with this cake of cakes so it was a bit difficult to determine as I was putting this together as  to whether or not I was on the right path. All this said, I set off knowing I would deviate from tradition and, after at least an hour or two comparing at least a dozen recipes for red velvet cakes and frostings, as well as devouring sites such as this one which focused on experimentation and even the technical science behind baking a perfect red velvet cake, I came up with this concoction which I have officially added to my list of very lucky culinary results.

If You Know (and Are Comfortable with) Poultry, Proceed

Alongside all of the Saturday morning cartoons, as well as the afternoon cooking programs on our local public broadcasting channel, painter Bob Ross stands out as an influential character in my artistic journey. It was in large part because of him that I ended up dabbling in oil painting and watercolor; and if/when memories of his fro or the scraping of the painter's knife against a canvas fade away, one word will somehow resonate with his seemingly flawless relationship with his work: happy. For those of you who know what I am talking about, I am of course referring to the embellishments Bob would add to his paintings, most notably his happy little clouds, or the tree friends he would add to his compositions. All of this randomness is to say that in a different medium of art--i.e., culinary--I seek happiness through food, and am particularly pleased when I have happy cooking accidents. Last Wednesday, the 13th, marked one such happy cooking accident.

If You Can't Handle the Heat [Outside], Get in the Kitchen

On Saturday evening, the night of my shadowing experience at The Short Story, I remember seeing what looked like sangria; regardless of what it actually was, the idea had been planted ("inception," anyone?). Sunday proved to be a beautiful day and with a shift in weather to the warmer side, sangria sounded like an extraordinary idea. And as such weather blossoms, I often think equate that heat with the freshness and vibrancy of fruit--particularly mango--and decided to pair that in some way with salmon. With a recent gift from Normandy (sel gris, a.k.a. grey sea salt) also needing to find a home in my blog, I ended up with a great Sunday dinner: Pan-seared salmon atop a bed of steamed green beans with sel gris, garnished with an orange balsamic reduction sauce (influenced by an episode of Dinner: Impossible I had recently seen), and served with jasmine rice and a spicy mango-cucumber salad. Oh yeah, along with a tall, cold glass of sangria. Of course with no actual blood in it, sangria comes from the Spanish word sangre and is based on the tradition of using red wine as the base. From what I have read, there is no one way of making an "authentic" sangria; as you continue reading, note the different layers to this wine punch of sorts and feel free to let your culinary creative juices (wait for the punch line...) flow.

Here, Eat This

It's about 4:30pm and as I make my way through the doorway of The Short Story, the wait staff gets ready near the bar area for the first customers to arrive and talk about who has already eaten some cake makes its way to me, at which point I'm given a healthy serving of moist chocolate cake and told "here, eat this." Eventually, I'm given a fork and Robert Harrison, executive chef of The Short Story, meets me at the entry way to a fairly small kitchen and asks me if I'd like to be introduced to the cook staff (which he forewarns me is a small one). In between bites of cake, I'm introduced to Dylan (a.k.a., the head dishwasher; a.k.a., the 16-year-old-who-cooks-like-he's-30; a.k.a., "the Prodigy") and then to Carly (the baker and plater of the chilled small plates and desserts). And as I finish my plate of cake, service begins.