Souffles seem to polarize people into two camps: one who claim that they are impossibly difficult and finicky and another who insist that they’re actually a cinch to produce. Souffles are marginally more difficult than making an omelette, which is similar to what you’re left with once one has fallen, but they should not be particularly frightening. Like many things in the kitchen, all that is required to make souffles is a bit of patience and some understanding of what is happening behind the closed doors of the oven.

Unlike omelettes, souffles come in two types, sweet and savory. Generally what you’ll see are chocolate souffles for the sweet side and cheese souffles for the savory, this is because people generally love chocolate and cheese. Souffles in my house, when I bother to make them, are no exception, because I too enjoy chocolate and cheese – though not typically simultaneously.

A souffle is essentially bechamel (savory), pastry cream or custard (sweet) leavened with egg whites. Since it is the structure of the egg white proteins and incorporated air that makes the souffle rise, that structure is essential in keeping it stable. Heated for too long, the structure will burst, causing it to literally collapse by the weight of itself. When the souffle is removed from the oven, the air that caused it to rise begins to cool, also slowly causing the structure to eventually fall. So no matter how expertly prepared, a souffle still has to be eaten pretty much immediately after being removed from the oven.

Whipping egg whites by hand is a pain. Just be thankful if you did not go to a culinary school that insisted on doing everything by hand, over and over again, to gain an appreciation for “how things used to be”. An electric mixer will make quick work of things for you. Just make sure absolutely no egg yolk gets into your whites and that your bowl and utensils are immaculately clean of fat. If you are in the predicament of doing things by hand (or happen to have a masochistic streak and enjoy such tedious productions, such as myself) start whisking those albumens in a figure eight pattern until soft peaks begin to form, and then switch to the vigorous rotations. Your wrist will thank you.

Why should you go through all this trouble of whisking egg whites and such when you could just make a frittata? Oh, my friend, you have obviously not eaten a souffle before, for a souffle has a wonderful airy texture that cannot be compared to something like a frittata, quiche or strata. It is light, like a delicate meringue, without feeling as though you are eating eggy air. Serving a souffle is all about timing, but eating it is all about appreciating the texture. Simply put, there is good reason why you don’t find “chocolate frittatas” and chocolate souffles around.

Below, you will find a recipe for the savory variety. When I say “strong cheeses” I mean anything particularly flavorful, not necessarily Roquefort. I used Emmenthal, Parmesan and some sort of French cheese I don’t exactly remember the name of. Sorry. I do remember it was delicious though.

Cheese Souffle

• 1 cup milk
• 1 bay leaf
• 1/2 small onion, peeled and quartered
• 1 1/2 tablespoons butter
• 1 1/2 tablespoons flour
• 4 eggs, separated
• 3 ounces strong cheeses, grated
• salt and cayenne pepper

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Place milk, bay leaf and onion in a saucepan and bring just to a boil. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 10 minutes.
3. In a separate saucepan, melt butter over medium heat until foaming bubbles subside, then quickly stir in the flour with a wooden spoon. Cook butter and flour together for one minute to make a roux.
4. Strain the onion and bay leaf from the milk, discarding the onion and bay leaf. Gradually whisk the milk into the roux until fully incorporated. Cook until thickened, then remove it from the heat. This is your bechamel.
5. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Whisk in a tablespoon of the bechamel to the egg yolks to temper them and prevent curdling of the eggs, then add the egg yolks into the bechamel, stirring to incorporate. Add the cheeses to the bechamel and season to taste with salt and cayenne pepper.
6. In an impeccably clean stainless steel, glass or copper bowl, whisk or beat the egg whites with a small pinch of salt (a pinch of cream of tartar would be nice too, if you have it) until soft peaks form.
7. Mix 1/3 of the egg whites into the bechamel to lighten it, then fold in the remaining 2/3 of the egg whites with a spoon or spatula.
8. Pour this mixture into a buttered/greased 4 cup souffle dish. If you want, run the end of a wooden spoon or your finger in a circle around the souffle to give it a “tophat” finish. I like to see what kind of random chaos is going to emerge and leave it alone.
9. Bake, without opening the oven, for approximately 30 minutes. When the top of the souffle has risen well beyond the rim of the dish, is browned on top and only slightly jiggles when shaked. Serve it immediately or risk a catastrophic collapse of all of your efforts into a very cheesy pancake.

Gnocchi are one of those things that blur the line between pasta and dumpling. Being Italian in name, gnocchi seem to fall under the heading of pasta, but by their nature of ingredients and preparation, share every other similarity with the dumpling family. Gnocchi share more in common with perogies than ravioli or tortellini, even though those are both technically dumplings as well. Strangely, people would typically call those pasta as well, even though you would be hard pressed to find someone that would call a wonton pasta instead of a dumpling, despite being essentially the Chinese equivalent. What a strange world we live in.

In any case, gnocchi are inexpensive and delicious. Although they are often simply boiled and sauced, gnocchi can also be fried to give them a crispy outer texture and soft interior. Typically, gnocchi will be served with pesto, such as this recipe that I share with you, a basic tomato sauce or brown butter with sage, but they go well with virtually anything. They also make a great addition to soups, such as minestrone, finished in the broth at the last minute.

The trick to making tender gnocchi is to use a gentle hand and to avoid adding too much moisture. As you may have seen in a recent episode of House M.D. the trick is to bake the potatoes instead of boil them (thus removing moisture instead of introducing it), leaving the gnocchi fluffier and noticeably more tender. The addition of egg yolks is not a requisite ingredient, but a common one. I prefer adding Pecorino Romano, because it is a saltier cheese than Parmigiano-Reggiano, and the salt really helps to boost the flavor of the potato without stealing the show, but use whatever you prefer, or simply salt itself, when making the gnocchi.

To roast red peppers at home, simply turn your oven broiler on to maximum temperature and place red peppers within a few inches of the broiler on a baking sheet. Char (and I do mean char) the entire outside of the peppers, then transfer them to a bowl and cover with plastic wrap to steam. Once cooled to the touch, rub the skins off with your fingers, slice open and remove the seeds. If you have a gas stove, you can do this directly over the fire, turning them with tongs as required. Canned red peppers are often a suitable substitute, just make sure to look for acidic ingredients (such as vinegar or citric acid) as this will make them a more pickled than smoky addition. Commercially prepared pesto is probably the best bet this time of year, as basil quality wains outside of the summer months.

Gnocchi with Roasted Red Peppers and Pesto

• 1 pound starchy potatoes (such as Yukon gold or russets)
• (optional) 1 egg yolk
• 1/4 cup Pecorino Romano, finely grated
• All-purpose flour

• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 2 roasted red peppers, sliced into strips
• 1/4 cup pesto sauce
• Juice of one lemon
• Pecorino Romano, to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Pierce the potatoes with a fork and bake them in their skins on a baking sheet until very tender, about an hour.
3. Cool the potatoes to the touch, remove the skins and pass them through a food mill or mash to a fine consistency.
4. Stir in the egg yolk, if using, and Pecorino Romano. Using a wooden spoon, delicately incorporate just enough flour to form a cohesive, slightly sticky dough.
5. Divide the dough into four equal pieces. On a lightly floured surface, being delicate and careful not to overwork, roll out the portion of the dough into a rope approximately 1/2″ thick. That, or sip some tea while the children of the house get to work on making “snakes”.
6. Using a sharp knife, slice the rope (or snakes) into 3/4″ slices. If you like, gently roll the gnoccho (that’s a single gnocchi) along the twines of a fork. The depressions in the gnocchi will become future homes for sauce.
7. Repeat with the remaining dough. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and place the gnocchi on it, as close as you can get them without touching. Place this in the freezer. Once the gnocchi are frozen, you can remove them from the tray and place into a freezer bag that will keep for at least 3 months without any significant detriment to their quality. Since they are already frozen, they will not stick to each other. Otherwise, just get the water to the boil, and cook them for dinner already.
8. To prepare the gnocchi, bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add the gnocchi, giving them a gentle stir to prevent them from sticking. Once they’ve floated to the top, they are finished cooking, and can be removed with a slotted spoon and transferred to your sauce.
9. To make the sauce, heat the olive oil in a large pan until hot, then add the roasted red peppers. Heat through, then add the pesto sauce. When the gnocchi are done, transfer them to the pan with their clinging, starchy water and cook for an additional minute. Remove from the heat, add the lemon juice and stir in a desired quantity of grated cheese. Simple and delicious.

This recipe makes enough for four people as an accompaniment or two as a hearty main course (it is a pound of potatoes, after all.)

The supermarket holds a great testament to this country’s love of apples. Of our three most eaten fruits, bananas are almost universally stocked of a single type, and oranges rarely extend more than two or three varieties, but apples, apples have their own section that rivals any other in the produce department. These apples are not created equal, all possessing characteristics to please many palates and cooking methods. For the snacker with a sweet tooth, there’s the golden delicious. For a satisfying and tangy crunch, there’s the granny smith. While some apples become mealy and undesirable when cooked, others can completely retain their shape in a pie or crumble.

While apples are certainly available year round, they will be naturally picked in the fall, so during the fall and early winter months you will see a greater variety of apples. If you happen to look, you will notice these locally grown and seasonal fruits hiding out among the standard fare. I have recently discovered a new favorite: the Russet apple. The Russet has an unappealingly dull and rough brown exterior not particularly noteworthy next to its shiny red counterparts. However, its fragrant aroma and flavor are unparalleled.

Russet apples are fairly small, but possess an incredible sweet flavor, almost reminiscent of a honey-infused cider. These flavors make the Russet apple an easy choice for use in pies or, as I did most recently, turned into applesauce. A similar underrated fruit to pair with it in baking would be the Bosc pear, its also rough brown exterior unfortunately conceals its otherwise exceptional characteristics.

Applesauce

• 1 pound Russet apples, peeled, cored and chopped
• 1/2 lemon, peeled and juiced
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• pinch of salt

1. Place the apples, a piece of lemon peel, lemon juice, cinnamon, sugar and salt in a pot and add just enough water to cover the bottom of the pot.
2. Bring the pot to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook, covered, until the apples are very tender and begin to fall apart, about half an hour.
3. Remove the lemon peel, taste the applesauce and add additional sugar, if necessary. Allow to cool to room temperature and then transfer to a jar and refrigerate.

If you want to preserve the natural color of the apple, simply substitute white sugar for the brown sugar and use a cinnamon stick instead of ground cinnamon. I love how the natural pectin in apples causes apple sauce to set almost like a jam if you reduce it enough. For a particularly fine texture, pass it through a fine meshed strainer or food mill before placing in a jar. Serve spread on warm, buttered toast for breakfast, alongside pork and root vegetables for dinner or as a component of dessert.

I must admit, I’ve always been kind of envious of anyone that can associate with a particular ethnic identity. I was raised by a single mother, the offspring of a Scotsman and Ukrainian woman, but sadly, my grandfather died long before I had the opportunity for him to introduce me to good Scotch, and although I called my grandmother “baba” growing up, there really isn’t a lot that was passed on to me that is distinctly Ukrainian in culture. Aside from a distinctly Ukrainian name, it is almost as though baba herself has forgotten that she is a Ukrainian woman! I do have a single memory of baba showing me how to make pysanky (Ukrainian easter eggs), and eating the occasional meal of cabbage rolls, but that’s basically all that I have retained of Ukrainian culture – the food.

In our family, Ukrainian Christmas is a fading tradition, one that my mother uses as a punchline for tardy gifts. I’m okay with that, but what I did not want to forget is the tradition of making perogies. At the time I did not understand why, but once a year in the winter, someone would go across the street from baba’s house, at the Ukrainian church in our town, and procure a bunch of handmade perogies from the old ladies there. January 7 was Ukrainian Christmas, and this year, mostly just because I was reminded of its existence, I decided to celebrate by making perogies with my wife. In addition, I also whipped up a dish of barley and cabbage, roasted beets, peas and purchased a caraway rye bread and paczki from Wawel, and we feasted with our friends before my Canadian traditions took over and we watched the hockey game.

The perogy is a testament to the ingenuity of the poor. What do you do when you have nothing to eat but potatoes? Why, you make potatoes stuffed with potatoes, of course. The texture of a freshly made perogy will always trump one plopped into boiling water from a freezer, the supple potato dumpling barely encasing a pillowy filling. While I chose to do a very basic perogy, there are of course many variations involving bacon, cheese and even dessert items, like cherries.

Perogies

• 1 pound russet (or other starchy) potatoes, peeled
• 1/2 cup whole milk, warm
• 1/4 cup melted butter
• 1/2 small onion, minced
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• (optional) a small bunch fresh dill, finely chopped
• salt and pepper
• 1/2 cup whole milk, warm
• 1 teaspoon salt
• (approximately) 2 cups all purpose flour

1. Place the potatoes in a pot and cover with cold water. Add a generous amount of salt, bring to a boil over high heat and cook until potatoes are very tender.
2. Drain the potatoes thoroughly and allow them to cool slightly at room temperature. This not only makes them more managable, but allows more moisture to evaporate from their surface, resulting in a better dough and filling.
3. Pass the potatoes through a food mill or mash them to a fine consistency, adding the warmed milk and melted butter. Reserve a generous half cup of the mashed potatoes to make the dough.
4. Meanwhile, over medium-low heat, cook the minced onion in the vegetable oil until translucent. Add this to the mashed potatoes, along with the dill, if using, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Reserve this at room temperature as your filling.
5. To make the dough, take your reserved half cup of mashed potatoes and add to this an additional half cup of milk. Mix in the salt, and then continue incorporating flour until you have a soft, slightly sticky dough. Knead this on a lightly floured counter top until you have a smooth and cohesive mass, then divide it into two portions.
6. To make the perogies, roll out a portion of the dough on a lightly floured surface until even and very thin, approximately 1/8″. Using the rim of a pint glass, jar or similar-sized pastry cutter, slice the dough into rounds. You can reroll the remaining scrap dough and cut again if you want to, but the resulting perogies will be denser than the original batch.
7. Fill the center of each circle with approximately a teaspoon of the mashed potato filling. Moisten the edges of half of the circle with water, then fold it over, encasing the filling and creating a half moon shape. Gently seal the perogy with your fingers, then press it with a fork for certainty and presentation. Place it on a parchment lined baking sheet and repeat until the remaining dough has been used up.
8. To cook, bring a large pot of water with a tablespoon of oil (to prevent sticking) to a boil. Add the perogies quickly, but individually, and cook until they float to the top, plus a minute. Retrieve them with a slotted spoon or “spider”, drain them of excess liquid and toss with melted butter. Alternatively, throw the boiled (and well-drained!) perogies in to a hot pan over medium heat with the melted butter, and fry on both sides to give them a crispy and delicious texture. Serve with crispy fried onions, bacon bits and sour cream.

This recipe yields approximately 18-24 perogies, depending on how thinly the dough is rolled out, the size of the cutter used, and moisture of the ingredients used to make it.

When I finished the original A Food Year project, a lot of people asked me what was next. Would I do another project like it again? Did I have something else planned for the future? At the time, I had no intentions of ever repeating a daily dinner project. Not because the cooking was difficult or that I didn’t enjoy it. The actual act of eating a different dinner every day for a year paled in comparison to the website maintenance; the blogging, the recipe writing, and all the other things that went along with it. It just sort of burned me out and left a lot of things unfinished and unpolished. A Food Year must’ve taken literally over a thousand hours of effort.

Recently I have been toying with the idea of doing something like it again. Twitter seems to make the “daily dose” concept all the more accessible now. I might still have a tiny sliver of an audience leftover from 2006 that I haven’t alienated with Montreal-centric content. The idea would be to expand upon two questions I was asked during A Food Year more than any others. “Isn’t it expensive?” and, “Have you gained any weight?” These questions were always a little surprising to me because learning to cook can not only save you money but help you eat healthier. We barely spent over $200 a month on groceries during A Food Year (I kept every grocery receipt from January to September in a file folder), I am still the same weight as I was three years ago and I’m feeling pretty good!

I am also far more knowledgeable than when I did A Food Year, and can only imagine that such a project would help me learn even more. But what it would ultimately do, is allow me to share that knowledge to more people, more often, and hopefully inspire more people to spend more time in their kitchens, cooking actual food. If there is anything that I am good at, it is knowing how to eat very well for cheap. Although a lot has changed in what we eat in this house, very little has changed in how. We still spend roughly the same amount on groceries each month as we did three years ago, and I still, almost by nature now, have a hard time eating the same meal twice within a month period.

Charlie and I are slowly plodding along at creating a spin off, sister site from A Food Year. When the day comes that this is completed, that is sort of what I envision the future of A Food Year to be. Not only a sort of preservation of what we did that year, but the development of a calendar of nutritious and delicious meals to prepare at home on a budget. Most of the efforts that I have seen put forth to do something like this are depressing, and I honestly think that I could do it better. Don’t hold your breath though. We will see if its time comes.

The real reason that I am writing this post has nothing to do with that though. It is because I recently discovered a new website that I wanted to share. Shortly after A Food Year, Charlie and I spent roughly 6 months trying to develop a website called Cuisine Combat that never came in to being. The idea was roughly to playfully pin bloggers against each other in a recipe challenge reminiscent of Iron Chef, with a weekly ’secret ingredient’ that they would submit recipes for to be judged amongst their peers. The winners would have their recipes featured on the site, which would in turn direct traffic to their blogs. It was to be a way to showcase lesser known blogs along with the more well known ones, as well as drum up ideas for food that people might not have previous thought of before.

Food52 is more or less what Cuisine Combat could have evolved in to, with many striking similarities to things we had tried to implement. Almost halfway through their year long project, Food52 is essentially what I have already described. Each week for 52 weeks a recipe contest is held for a specific ingredient. The winners of each week will get their entries published in a cookbook designed by HarperStudio, sponsored by Oxo. The only real difference is that the Food52 cookbook capitalizes on the community that generates its content. Maybe I should have thought of that and grabbed a corporate sponsor ;) It is worth checking out.

Since I became aware of Rachel Ray’s 365 Day cookbook and the Julie & Julia project shortly after starting A Food Year, and now this idea has come about, I thought I would throw one of my other fledgling ideas out there to see if anyone is familiar with something similar. Essentially, I want to create a toned-down digital copy of The Flavor Bible. Basically, a database of flavor combinations that will suggest recipes that you might want to try if you’re bored of eating the same old chicken breast. What to add if something tastes too salty, and so on. How flavors combine to make food taste great. Anyone out there know of anything like that?

As for non-food related projects, I recently wrote my second novel for Nanowrimo. You might be aware that A Food Year came about after I finished my first one and wanted an outlet to continue writing. This is both my reason for updating here less frequently in the last month and a promise that there will be more in store for the future. Thanks to all five of you for being so patient with me.

One of my tentative new year’s resolutions for 2010 is to learn how to make cappuccino art. You know, the fancy hearts, leaves and beautiful spirals found in in the foam of some coffee shop beverages. I’m not anticipating this to be all that difficult (you can see in the recipe picture that I nearly made a heart by accident), but I thought I would share how I make cappuccinos in my home, in case you want to beat me in my quest before the year is over. Granted, my method might need to be refined a touch if I am to produce anything particularly elegant, but so far this technique has been more than passable for a quick cappuccino.

Shannon bought me an espresso machine for Christmas last year. Naturally, it came equipped with a steamer wand, ready to make cappuccinos, lattes and steamers. I did go out and buy myself a stainless steel steaming pitcher, but I think I did so mostly because I like the looks of it hanging out in the coffee corner of my kitchen. I’ve never used it and here’s why.

It is true that steaming milk with a nozzle is a bit of an art. It takes practice to maintain proper temperatures and produce the right amount of aeration to make a high quality foam. It also requires a volume of milk far larger than required for a single cappuccino. Watch the barista behind the counter the next time you order a cappuccino and see how much milk doesn’t make it into your cup. This is fine procedure for large scale operations, but for the barista at home, making a cappuccino in this way is tedious and wasteful.

Most people will have you believe that frothing milk is hard; that without the proper tools, an extremely accurate thermometer and watchful eye, your cappuccino will result in a horrible and undrinkable mess. Since that is more or less what the chain cafes will sell you for several dollars, I would like to try and dispel that myth. All it will take is a microwave and a jar.

When making frothed milk in this manner, the idea is to create enough tiny air bubbles in the milk while it is still cold, so that when you heat it in the microwave, it will increase in volume, producing a light foam on top of richly frothed milk. In a jar, this is as simple as filling it half full with milk, putting on the lid and shaking for 30 seconds. An empty Bonne Maman jam jar is perfect for this.

While this method is acceptable, I prefer to use my French press. This simply requires a few ounces of milk quickly plunged several times to create a rich foam. Either method works, but because the French press forces the milk through the plunger rather than just agitating it, I find it produces a richer froth faster. But it also dirties more dishes.

To heat the milk, place the jar, or fill a microwavable cup half full with the frothed milk from the French press, in to the microwave and heat it on high until you see the foam fill it to the top. This takes roughly 45 seconds to a minute in my microwave. That’s it – frothed milk! Relatively painless, and pretty much foolproof.

A large part of what I loathe about the corporate cappuccino is that it is flavorless. There is a very simple reason for this, their cappuccinos are made with skim milk. Skim milk is the dairy of choice for people who think that fat is evil and milk should taste like water. Of course, I’ve met a great many people that prefer their coffee to taste like this too. I assume if you are still reading this that you are neither of those types of people.

The reason for this choice is that skim milk produces and holds a foam better than its whole milk counterparts. But what good is a foam that tastes of nothing but hot, fluffy air? Full fat foams have a more complete texture and flavor and, as an added bonus, help to tamper the bitterness that you find in some espressos, making their cappuccinos more pleasantly drinkable. Please, use whole milk when making your cappuccinos – you will thank me for the difference it will make.

I like my cappuccino ‘wet’, that is, with more milk than foam, but a cappuccino is traditionally served as 1/3 espresso, 1/3 milk and 1/3 milk foam. A six ounce cappuccino cup is ideal for this, because you can pour two shots (two ounces) of espresso in to the cup, mix it with two ounces of milk and top it with two ounces of foam. If you don’t have an espresso maker, you can get away with two ounces of strong coffee. How to pour a proper shot of espresso? Well, that’s a separate matter entirely.

Microwave Cappuccino

• 4 ounces milk
• 2 ounces brewed espresso

1. Plunge the milk in a French press for 15-30 seconds. It should increase in volume slightly and produce a foam. Alternatively, put the milk in a sealed jar and shake for 30 seconds to achieve similar results.
2. Fill a microwave safe container capable of holding at least 8 ounces of liquid with the milk. Heat this in the microwave on high until the container is filled and the foam rises to the surface. This will take approximately a minute, depending on the microwave. If you are brewing fresh espresso, do this now, while the milk is heating.
3. Pour the 2 ounces of espresso in to a 6 ounce cappuccino cup. Using a spoon to prevent the foam from entering the cup, pour 2 ounces of the milk on top of the espresso. Finish by filling the cup with the remaining foam and dust with cinnamon or cocoa powder, if desired.

The size of your French press is going to affect how well it can froth a small quantity of milk. If you have a 10 to 14 cup French press, 4 ounces of milk will hardly even cover the plunger. A smaller (4-6 cup) French press or press pot “milk frother” is ideal. If neither of these are accessible, there’s always an empty jar!

Our wedding cake was made up of layers of chocolate and banana swirl – a Chunky Monkey cake, if you will. I am truly a sucker for the flavor of bananas which, despite being one of the most popular fruits in the world, seems to have a fairly under-appreciated flavor. When picking through the Runts, I would always eat the tiny bananas first, grab all the yellow Mojos and drink all the banana milk. I would, pardon the pun, go bananas for that taste.

Whenever grandma and I would go shopping when I was a kid, I would always try to convince her to buy the cheap, brown paper bags loaded with overripe bananas. “What would we make with them?” she’d ask. “Bread?” I’d reply, as if there were anything else you could possibly do with overripe bananas. To this day, I still like to keep overripe bananas in my freezer, to throw into a smoothie, milkshake, or to have on hand when a craving for banana bread resurfaces from my childhood.

When bananas have passed the stage welcome for snacking and cereal, they grow ideal for baking. Their flesh turns creamy as the starches break down and their flavor grows more pronounced, complex and acidic. At this stage, bananas help yield ideal components for leavening and flavoring a delicious loaf of banana bread. To further increase their flavor, and simply for convenience’s sake, I like to freeze the bananas and thaw them again when they are needed, easily slipping them out of their blackened skins and whirring them into the batter.

Since I find that baking a banana “loaf” ends up with the outside a little too dark by the time the inside sets, I like to make mine in an 8×8″ cake pan and then cut it into wedges instead of slices. Individually wrapped, they’ll keep for snacks throughout the week, and when they grow stale, become the perfect fodder for French toast.

Banana Bread

• 1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• 3 large bananas (very ripe, frozen and then thawed)
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees with the rack positioned in the middle.
2. Cream together the butter and sugar with an electric mixer until light and fluffy.
3. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating to fully incorporate into the mixture, then beat in the bananas and vanilla.
4. Sift together the flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder and cinnamon. Mix this in to the wet ingredients until you can see no traces of flour.
5. Using a rubber spatula, transfer the batter to a greased 8×8″ cake pan with the bottom lined with parchment paper, and bake in the center of the oven until it has set and a toothpick can be inserted into the center and come out clean, about 30-35 minutes.
6. Allow to cool slightly, then turn onto a wire rack to cool completely before storing.

Bananas share a common aromatic compound with cloves. The addition of a pinch of clove helps to heighten that banana flavor.

I’d hazard to guess that Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup had a more profound effect on America’s food choices than Julia Child. I think I can count the amount of people that actually eat it as a soup on one hand, it might as well be called, “Campbell’s Casserole Sauce.” My mom prepared tuna noodle casserole quite regularly and I always loved it. I think it’d been more than 10 years since I’d last ate tuna noodle casserole, so I decided to whip one up from scratch.

Making tuna noodle casserole from scratch leaves the flavor profile open to interpretation. That is, you’re free to choose flavors beyond the realm of, “Campbell’s Cream of…” Still wanting the creamy, comforting satisfaction that the Campbell’s version provided me in my youth, I went with a leek and lemon infused bechamel, but there’s really nothing stopping you from making tuna noodle casserole with pesto, tomato sauce or whatever your heart desires. Think outside the box (er, can.)

Tuna Noodle Casserole

• 8 ounces penne
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 cups thinly sliced leek (white part only – about the yield of 1 large leek)
• 1 stalk celery, thinly sliced
• 1 clove garlic, crushed
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 2 cups warm whole milk
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 tablespoon whole grain mustard
• Zest of 1 lemon
• 2 tablespoons fresh dill, finely chopped
• salt and white pepper
• 2 six ounce cans of chunk light tuna, drained
• 1/2 cup fine bread crumbs
• 1 ounce Gruyere, Emmenthal and/or Parmesan cheese, grated

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the penne to al dente. Do not over cook or you will have one mushy casserole.
3. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a large pot over medium-low heat and add the leeks, celery and garlic with a pinch of salt. Sweat the mixture until the leeks are softened and their liquid has been released and evaporated.
4. Add the flour to the leeks and stir to coat. Cook off for a minute.
5. Add the milk to the leeks, 1/2 cup at a time, whisking to work out any lumps each time.
6. Raise the heat of the leek pot to medium-high and add the bay leaf, mustard and lemon zest. Cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens. Remove from heat, discard the bay leaf and season to taste with dill, salt and white pepper.
7. Reserve 1 cup of the pasta water and drain the pasta. Combine the sauce, pasta and tuna, adding the reserved pasta water to create a creamy consistency, coating all the pasta.
8. Transfer everything to a casserole dish and top with bread crumbs and grated cheese. Bake until top is golden brown, about 15-20 minutes. Cool slightly, cut into wedges and serve.

Feel free to make your own substitutions. As long as the quantities of pasta, tuna, butter, flour and milk remain the same, everything else is more or less fair game.

Shannon and I watch a lot of movies. We recently signed up for Zip (the Canadian version of Netflix) and now we’re almost ritualistically watching as many movies as possible to make our membership fees seem like an even better value. More movies than we can comfortably watch in a month costs us less than the price of a night out to the theater.

When we do make it to the theater, a comparatively rare occasion for movies that seem to have real merit, I am a total stickler at the concession stand. I joke about how, when we have kids, she’s going to take them to get popcorn and they’ll refute with, “No way! That’s how they get you!” and ramble on about inflated prices and sodium levels, forcing you to drink over-priced beverages as a consequence. (I’m fun.)

The same issue would arise at the rental outlets, standing in line and eyeing the microwave popcorn. That stuff’s not as bad as the movie theater variety (do you know how much fat is in that stuff? I’ll give you a hint, it’s more than a Big Mac!) but it’s still typically loaded with hydrogenated palm oil and a bunch of other unnecessary additives.

So, I make popcorn at home. A pound of popcorn kernels, purchased in bulk, costs me less than $2 a pound, and a pound of popcorn kernels produces a lot of popped popcorn. I’m not much of a snacker, but popcorn is my go-to snack if I feel like being a glutton and totally stuffing my face with something without much consequence. Popcorn isn’t the least bit filling, but it’s fairly high in fiber and low in calories, providing it’s not close to deep-fried.

For the longest time, we would add Splenda to our popcorn, in an effort to duplicate the flavor of kettle corn. I’m a sucker for salty and sweet combinations (Peanut Brittle, for example) and this satisfied me for a while. Tonight, I decided to figure out exactly what real kettle corn was and how to make it. Not surprisingly (at least to me), kettle corn originated from Dutch settlers in Pennsylvania, who used Dutch ovens (“kettles”) to make it over a fire. The first three recipes I found on the Internet all had the exact same ingredients and method, so I tried it. Let’s just say that the results yielded more smoke than edibles and you can’t trust the Internet. After a couple of tries, I found a winning combination. Maybe it just tasted better because it tasted like victory, but oh man, fresh kettle corn is heavenly! I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go back now.

A while ago I had a revelation that using ghee (clarified butter) for making popcorn would give popcorn a buttery flavor without having to add more butter on top of the oil it was popped in. Tonight I learned that the first invention of a popcorn making machine used a combination of clarified butter and lard to pop the kernels in. Sometimes, left to my own devices, I can be onto something – even if I’m only on to the techniques of early 19th century America.

Finally, for those of you that would rather just pop a bag in the microwave and set a timer, a recipe to do just that. Aside from eating, popcorn does have other uses, like being used for makeshift strings of garland to hang on Christmas trees, but since squirrels just ravaged our Jack-o-Lanterns this week, I think I’m going to think long and hard before I put up edible decor in the future.

Old-Fashioned Kettle Corn

• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup popcorn kernels
• 1/4 cup white sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

1. Heat a cast iron Dutch oven (or similar heavy bottomed pot) over medium-high heat with lid on, containing the oil and a couple of popcorn kernels. When you hear the kernels pop, the oil is ready.
2. Remove the lid, add the remaining popcorn kernels and sugar, stirring quickly with a wooden spoon to coat. Put the lid back on and, shaking occasionally to prevent sticking, continue to cook over medium-high heat until popping reduces dramatically.
3. Remove the lid and sprinkle over the salt. Put the lid back on, give the pot a shake and then dump the contents into a bowl for good eating.

For ease of clean up, when the pot has cooled (to avoid cracking), fill it with water and bring to a boil and scrape off any caramelized sugar with a wooden spoon. Since the sugar adds so much depth on its own, it is unnecessary to use very much salt to bring out the flavor. Add a couple of honey roasted peanuts in there if I’m coming over.

I’ve been on the lookout for deals on pint-sized bakeware lately as I’ve been on a bit of a baking kick and have been dissatisfied with my current bakeware selection. I had a set of lightweight, non-stick things that were given to me, but I found that they tended to disperse heat oddly, cooking unevenly, or burning the bottom of things before anything else had cooked.

My actual goal was to purchase a couple of mini-loaf pans, because it’s just the two of us here and making a full loaf of anything is either asking for trouble (read: a necessary nap after its entire consumption, followed by several pounds of guaranteed weight gain), enormous waste or things generally just taking up space in the freezer.

I bought two rectangular ceramic baking dishes today for $1.50 each. Banana bread will have to wait while I fool around with tarts and quiches. Something about having a freezer full of a half dozen pounds of butter and 10 kilograms of flour kicking around makes baking everything in a crust all that more appealing.

We’d made the trek out of NDG and picked up a 12 pound ham from Fairmount Butcher, our favorite butcher shop in the plateau, and baked it up for our Thanksgiving meal. Leftovers from ham are so much more agreeable to me than a turkey, and there’s current ham stock sitting in the fridge for split pea soup later this week, a couple sandwiches in my belly, and now a quiche for dinner. Excellent.

Ham Quiche

• 1/2 recipe pate brisee (pie crust)
• 1 teaspoon olive oil
• 1 cup cooked ham, diced
• 1 clove garlic
• 1 cup spinach, chopped
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 3/4 teaspoon Kosher salt
• 1/8 teaspoon white pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
• 3 ounces mozzarella
• 1 ounce parmesan

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees with the rack in the lower third of the oven. This will help the bottom of the crust bake properly without overcooking the top of the quiche.
2. Roll out the pastry to 1/8″ thickness and place in your baking dish. Prick the bottom all over with a fork, line the crust with foil and cover with dried beans or pie weights and blind bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the bottom is set.
3. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil over medium heat in a skillet. When it is hot, add the ham and brown it, stirring occasionally, just to add a bit of extra dimension to the flavor. Once the ham is browned, add the garlic and spinach and cook until it is just wilted. Set aside to cool.
4. Whisk together eggs, cream and milk in a mixing bowl and season with salt, white pepper, cayenne pepper and nutmeg. Add the ham and spinach to this mixture.
5. Remove the partially baked crust from the oven and discard the beans and foil. Combine the cheeses and layer over the bottom of the crust, then pour the contents of the mixing bowl on top of the cheese, dispersing the filling evenly.
6. Bake until the crust is golden brown and the custard has set. It will look noticeably firm and a toothpick or knife can be inserted into the center and come out clean. This will take approximately 20-25 minutes.
7. Allow to cool slightly, then cut into slices and serve immediately with a vegetable side dish, or cool completely and serve with a light salad.

This was baked in a half-sized baking dish, but this recipe can easily be doubled to fit a standard 9″ tart/quiche shell.