walnut, date & lemon oatmeal cookies

As much as we all try to structure it, it’s not common for a new year to be loyal in coming through on its promise of a clean slate. But 2010 has left me feeling fresh in my skin, extending itself as a time to experience the seemingly elusive things in my life. A few of these have included, but are not limited to: moving to New York, attending the opera and baking oatmeal cookies. On the surface, the last of these three may appear insignificant, but when I really think about it, I’m able to identify a deeper connection. Oatmeal cookies have been hustling through history since the 1800’s, so I knew that there must have been a specific reason as to why I’d make them now.

Throughout the winter, I eat enough oatmeal to turn me into paper-mâché, but it has all been served with the sole purpose of clothing the soul by dressing it warmly with almond butter and cinnamon. With all the change that has cut me out of my habitual comforts, it makes sense that I would instinctively fetch for a slice of familiarity. This time, however, I wanted to transcend subtly, by using oats in a friendlier form and adding in a brightness to signify the start of a new season.

But my psychological yearning wasn’t the only reason why I made them. I wanted to bake them for Tom, who had told me earlier on in the relationship that oatmeal cookies were his favorite, and also for our friend, Timothy, who has lent us a space in his brownstone in Brooklyn, while we linger in limbo before our move to Munich.

I took a simple and yet imaginative method to this recipe, by building off a basic foundation and then adding that of which I felt would fit the transition between winter and spring. I’m a nerd when it comes to substituting classic ingredients in pursuit of health, so I made them egg-free, with olive oil, using whole-wheat flour and then honey as a sweetener. Please feel free to use whatever suits you best, as this recipe is not easy to sabotage.

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1 c. whole-wheat flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. fine sea salt
1 c. rolled oats
2/3 c. chopped walnuts
1/2 c. olive oil
1/2 c. honey
1/2 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 c. chopped dates

**

Preheat oven to 375°F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In one bowl, mix together the flour, dates, walnuts, oats, baking powder and salt. In another bowl, whisk the honey, olive oil and lemon zest. Combine both in a bigger bowl and blend together with a wooden spoon, until the batter is moist and glistening.

Using your hands, shape one tablespoon into a ball and flatten down with fingers, separating each cookie about 2″ apart. Bake for 12 – 15 minutes, until they are golden on the top and bottom. Depending on the size you choose, you should come out with about 2 dozen cookies.

the truth to my taste

I started writing at the intersection of food, wine and design because I felt that I loved all three elements enough to stretch them out equally throughout this site. But with time and the unraveling of my life’s layers, it’s become clear that the foundation of food is not only a hobby, but a relationship of my heart. And as all matters of such, it has been a pleasure and a pain, and now hopefully a part of peace in cutting down the contrast between the two.

Wine will remain as a dedication for discovery in my life, and I’ll always be drawn to that of which my eye creates emotion from what it sees. I’ll simply be shifting the subject of my writing to solely reflect that of which makes me truly happy.

And it doesn’t matter how much this niche has already been filled; a saturated marketplace has never deflected me from delivering that of which comes through my core.

époisses

The first thing I’m going to do when I get to Paris this spring, is look for a poplar of unpasteurized Époisses. With the banned importation of its raw version in North America, there remain only a select few who carry the certification to produce it and sell it to cheese shops in Paris, the south of France and to Holland.

The ban is unjustified and motivated by a bureaucratic rivalry. The batch of Époisses that had caused the 1999 outbreak of listeria, was pasteurized and came from La fromagerie de l’Armançon, a factory that had already been condemned in a court in Dijon for producing counterfit Époisses under unsanitary conditions. It’s also been rumored that the Health Ministry had acted opportunistically in a play for power, in competing with the Veterinary Services for control of France’s Food Safety Association.

The most viable source of information on Époisses and its current standing in the marketplace, can be found in Taras Grescoe’s book, The Devil’s Picnic.

When I finally find this cheese, I’m not going to humiliate its complex characteristics of rich, salty meatiness and offending odor by throwing it into a quiche or a pie with apples, but plan to respect its strength by pairing it simply, with a baguette and a beer.

cheers to change

Each year that blows by has a style of disheveling me in a way that has me plastered by the end of it & dissolving into denial by distraction. I know, it sounds dramatic, & it’s true in that no matter how trying a year may have been, it will always be essential to my growth & a predominant reason to the place in which I am today. Nevertheless, there has been an annual algorithm in my years that have seamlessly stitched themselves together. It all just sort of seemed the same.

This year was different. This year I felt raw in my ability to feel, remember & relish in it all. The confusion, the pain, the neutralism in the months falling between the highs & lows & all the bliss that followed thereafter. I feel as if I was born this year. I suddenly feel awake. When I was 17, I told myself that 27 would be my year. I felt that there was something subtle stirring through my core to connect me to a time in which everything began to tie itself together. This year around March, I threw in the towel on anything & anyone who served no value to my life. I trimmed the toxins that came in forms of food, vices & people posing as friends. I didn’t care about networking because business meant nothing to me unless it was done with people who I could build relationships with. I really felt like I lacked that in my life, & if it meant being alone for a while, then I was okay with that. I knew that it was a short sacrifice to a life more solid & sweet.

I remained committed, as I am today, to days of discipline & internal communication about what I was really searching for. I still don’t know the answer to that question, but I no longer care to seek it. What matters most, is that in every moment that I’m present, I am so in a way that is enlivening to both myself & to those around me. As a human being who’s here to learn, I will never be liberated from failure, or released from the self-imposed clutch of fear, doubt & anger. All I know is that I’m constantly willing to work for what feels right.

My resolution didn’t start on January 1st, it started when it was time. & the journey, it never ends. Goals are met, fresh thoughts are sprouted & the cyclic actions of ambition begin again. The only accomplishment that you could ever truly meet is the awareness of knowing that you have always been who you have always wanted to be. You know it because you feel it.

& in this upcoming year of 2010, layers of change lie thick on the horizon. Changes with this website, which has solely remained as a series of literary essays of the things that I love, & changes with my life of which include the people & places that I sincerely adore & want to learn more about.

So in conclusion to my condensed thoughts on this last year alone, I say cheers to change & to those who are courageous enough to constantly cycle through it.

Happy New Year to you & to the ones you love.

apples & americanos

Photo courtesy of Tracy Collins

All the words ever written about New York weigh heavy in humility against the ones written here, but the way that I saw the city was exclusive to the emotions that evolved within it. They are my own.

It was my first visit by way of an invitation that became intimate through a mind free from expectation & in liberation to explore. I arrived at 6am & driven directly to Brooklyn, to a short & sweet love affair with a loft at 66 Water Street in DUMBO. I had made only one request in that my introduction to the city was genuine in discovery of its hidden gems.

Our first destination was The Standard Grill in the Meatpacking District, where we sat at the raw bar & had a buoyant lunch consisting of beefy oysters & crisp, gin cocktails with lime. I left my seat in search of a bathroom, where I discovered several crates of apples stacked against a cornered wall & took two for our walk over to the Highline. The sun was then beginning to sulk & its reflection against the buildings made for an illuminating transition of metallic colors. As the evening evolved, we agreed on The Vinegar Hill House for dinner, which ignited my curiosity after reading Frank Bruni’s review on it in the New York Times. I was sold – both aesthetically through its online presence & by the agrarian foods of which it promised. The wine list inflicted a slight sense of temptation also. & so we went, but departed without dinner or drinks as it was too crowded, too loud & too long of a wait for us to linger. One to reserve for a repeat rendez-vous in the city. The end destination of the evening was ideal: a split medium-rare burger of blue cheese & caramelized onions at Maggie Brown’s.

Saturday was a subtle day with a sun as warm & sweet as one seen in the first week of October. I was lucky. We grabbed two americano’s from The Coffee Box & jumped on the subway for another slew of stops to Brown Café. We ordered baked eggs with tomatoes, asparagus & manchego, & a quiche with roasted peppers, caramelized leeks & gruyere. A nostalgically charming restaurant with gracious service & a gratifying meal – I could not have asked for better out of my brunch. We broke away from the Lower East Side & uptown towards the MoMA for the Bauhaus exhibit. I could not cultivate any chemistry from the first phase of the exhibit, which bore a manifestation of medieval structures & framed textiles hanging from walls. I was done in finally once arriving at the influence of Mies van der Rohe at Bauhaus. I adore him & admire the direction in which he diverted architecture to at that time.

The remainder of the afternoon was draped over time, consenting to its stillness while we lounged shamelessly in Sheep’s Meadow. Yes, it was as sickly sweet as it sounds & I loved every moment of it. We walked over to The Boathouse in Central Park, which boasts a Bostonian feel with its wooden structure, predominantly leather décor & a football game gleaming tactfully in a corner overhead. We sat at the bar & ordered two gin martinis & a dessert plate of cheese, fruit & crisp bread. Forget about the diluted disappointments that I often get in Vancouver & welcome well-made & aggressive martinis that are forceful to the senses. One was always enough, although we didn’t always stop there.

I fell in love with Blanc & Rouge in Brooklyn, where immediately upon entering, felt betrayed by British Columbia both in terms of cost & selection. Intimate & nonchalant with chill & knowledgeable service. Throughout the four days, we bought a 2007 Guidobono Nebbiolo, a 2007 Poppy Pinot Noir from Monterey County & a 2007 Petit Sirah from the North Coast. All different, delicious & under $20 USD. The loft is also blessed with Jacques Torres, & so we would occasionally select a variety of chocolates to attend to with the wine. Life, she is hard. You have to bury yourself in these moments when you get the chance & bury beautifully I did.

The minimal maintenance of calories from the chocolate cultivated cravings for sushi & sake, which lead us to the Blue Ribbon in Brooklyn. We ordered a wooden box of cold Junmai with hints of pear & a scattered selection of sashimi & rolls. It was ignorant of me to believe that Vancouver probably does sushi best next to Japan.

Sunday morning started with the Farmer’s Market in Brooklyn, where we bought two apples & a black Russian rye with raisins & walnuts. Placed perfectly next door was the Brooklyn Flea, where I decided that I need never to shop anywhere else but there. I think I may have actually started skipping. Grand Central Station & the train to Garrison came thereafter. An hour traveling through New York & for what felt like skimming across the Hudson River in the sunset, we arrived & made dinner of a Warm Salmon Salad Niçoise for Stefan Boublil, his wife, Gina & their two adorable kids, Leelo & Zoel. We sipped on Dolcetto & Nebbiolo whilst discussing the various dimensions of life.

It was cold & cloudy on my last day there, which felt appropriate for the occasion. Back at the loft, lunch was simple & shared with silky slices of San Daniele over Petit Sirah & a following americano. En route to the airport, we stopped to have dinner at Luze, where we sat at the bar & shared a trio ceviche, an entraña & our final gin martini together.

I was surprised to have had all my stereotypes shattered so swiftly. I thank my gracious boyfriend for averting me towards an angle of New York that is both raw & intrinsic in its being. New York City is a beautiful beast.

fifth town artisan cheese factory

Artisan cheese & aesthetic design are not a predictable pairing, but somehow it feels appropriate for a company in practice of classic craftsmanship to blend its standards with that of sustainable architecture.

Located on twenty acres of agricultural land in Ontario, Canada, Fifth Town Artisan Cheese Factory has won numerous awards for not only their creation of sheep & goat’s milk cheeses, but also in recognition of its Platinum LEED accreditation under the Leadership in Energy & Environmental Design program. They are Canada’s first & only certified LEED dairy factory.

Their cheese collection consists of fresh, washed-rind, soft-ripened, hard & limited edition cheeses. My palate is particularly drawn to their lavender chèvre, maple chèvre, their Isabella & Lemon Fetish, which harnesses a creamy & natural citric zest with a red fife flour on the rind.

A panoptic awareness for not only its product but the environment of which it is made, is a synthesis of principles that will, in my opinion, carry on through time & the changes within it.

Courtesy of Lapointe Architects

Courtesy of Wood Works Ontario

sly substitute: almond milk

Over the last few years, I have made a gradual transition over from cow milk to nut milk, in an attempt of finding a similar cream consistency that my body could readily absorb. Perhaps it’s the imitation of our consumption to milk as human beings, but there was always something eerie to me about drinking animal milk. Psychology aside, cow’s milk had also always left me feeling.. well – a bit like a cow.

I started seeking a nut-based milk in which was preferably preservative-free. I wasn’t particularly keen on what I was reading in terms of soy & its abundance in estrogen & the harmonal interference that it could possibly cause in women, so my focus shifted solely to store bought almond milk. The first brand to arrive on shelves at our local organic stores was Blue Diamond’s Almond Breeze, which I drank for a while, despite not feeling totally satisfied in the purity of their processes (they add Potassium Citrate as a buffering agent & Tricalcium Phosphate as a anti-caking agent).

While researching options for implementing raw foods into my overall diet, I discovered that stores were prohibited from selling raw & all-natural milks of any kind, as they did not meet health standards & regulations. As a result, the milks had to be processed somewhat. While I’m not a purist as I believe that everything is tainted, I knew that making my own almond milk would be the closest to “clean” that I could get. And so with that realization, I did my research & scoured the city looking for “nut bags”. Or otherwise known as “cheese cloths”.. yea – thanks, Internet. Not always my saving grace, so to speak.

I’m further embarrassed as to how long it’s taken me to make something so simple. It’s an act of production that turns you away from being a sole consumer & into a producer of your own goods. It’s basic, but it’s empowering. I began feeling like I no longer had to be at the mercy of a brand. The milk itself is indeed creamy, takes minutes to make & lasts 5 – 10 days in the fridge (depending on how cold your fridge is). The only factor of hesitation for me was the price tag for 3 cups of organic almonds, (approx. $17) but the value stretches, both in production & health. The quantity also depends on how much additional water you add in relation to how creamy you want your milk to be.

To start, soak 3 cups of organic (raw) almonds in filtered water for a minimum of 4 hours. Soaking the almonds removes the enzyme inhibitors, making the nuts more digestible & nutritious. As an added benefit, soaking them makes for better blending & frothing of the milk.

To make the milk, first drain & wash the almonds. You will need the cheese cloth ($5 at Whole Foods), a blender & a bowl. Blend one cup of almonds at a time for better handling.

• 1 cup of almonds + 3 cups of filtered water. Blend on high speed for 3 minutes
• Cover bowl over with the cheese cloth & slowly pour the almond milk through, squeezing the milk out as you raise the cloth.

I prefer mine to be sans sugar all together, but you can sweeten it by throwing in a few dates, a drizzle of honey or a few drops of stevia extract. I use this milk primarily with my apple hemp shakes in the morning & as a soup base as an alternative to broth. I’m yet to experiment in baking with it, but it slides in well as an alternative to other milk’s for granola, pancakes or just for as a pairing for your classic concoction of cookies & milk.

omi beef

Can I write about something that I haven’t actually experienced myself yet? Well, can I imagine living in a Gamma Issa House & be certain that life would constitute a daily source of solid satisfaction? I sure can.

So, when I came across an article on a “butter-soft” beef from Japan called Omi, I instantly started sulking in response to its rarity here in North America. Unlike Kobe, Omi has little presence outside of Japan, & although it’s one of the three Tajima long-haired black cow meats that stands at the forefront of Japanese beef, it’s somehow taken a backseat within the marketing spectrum.

Omi is produced in Lake Biwa in Shiga, & is being hailed for health in being lean despite its tender texture. Farmers of Omi strictly adhere to natural methods of raising their livestock & do not interfere with the development of the cows. The calves are fed by their mothers & the cows are only given home-grown rice & wheat to eat. No antibiotics or supplements are given to the cows, either. The downside of their delicate meat is that Omi actually melts in warmer temperatures & thus presents a preparation method foreign to most chefs. The beef has to be cut quickly into slender slices for serving of sashimi, shabu-shabu or sukiyaki, which is an art form in Japan & can take years to master. Omi, Kobe & Matsuzkaza are all meats from the same cow, but the difference in taste stems from both the climate & the timing in terms of their feed. Omi beef cows are only fed for however long they wish to eat, thus producing this balance of being both light & lean.

The meat also marbles naturally, but Japanese farmers have been rumored to massage the cows, play them Mozart & feed them beer in an attempt to further melt their muscles into what I could only possibly imagine would result in a meat milkshake. Unnecessary? Yes – the farmer’s thought so, too.

the dirty apron cooking school

Due to Vancouver’s anti-climatic nature, I have nurtured myself to forbid the formation of expectations with newly opened establishments. I do so in hopes of minimizing the depth of my disappointment, but when a local venture unexpectedly blows me away, I can’t help but to be left highly humbled & proud.

I was even wearing my glasses when I walked to Crosstown to take a tour through the open house for The Dirty Apron, a culinary habitat for amateur gastronomers & curious professionals seeking to extend their skills in a space suitable for those with quality in mind. The school is a joint venture between Nico & Karri Schuermans of Chambar & a food stylist & former Sous-Chef of Chambar, David Robertson.

Upon entering, an energy of passionate chaos looped around me while I observed the harmony of the space. Once I collected both myself & my Chardonnay, I swayed from one room to another in admiration. The interior was designed by Kerri, who is the aesthetic brain behind both Chambar & Café Medina. The kitchen exhibits simplicity & is stocked with high-grade equipment & tools by All Clad cookware, Wusthof knives, Wolf ranges & Sub Zero fridges. Brick, beam & custom walnut cabinetry are all a part of the general retail store, which was designed with a 1920’s aristocratic feel & accessorized with culinary antiques. However, it was the dining room that truly stole me away. Victorian-style crystal chandeliers, vintage chairs & unfinished wooden tables charmed the narrow length of the room with intimacy.

There are a total of eleven classes: Knife skills, West Coast, French, Seafood, Italian, Meat, Grilling, Desserts, Chocolate, a Frugal Feast & a recreation of some of Chambar’s most popular dishes. These are all 4-hour, hands on classes, while the 2-hour demonstration classes only include French & West Coast. The majority of these are taught by Robertson & the website promises a “peppering” of local celebrity chefs. Hands-on classes are thereafter paired with wine whilst dining together after class completion.

To start, I’ll be taking the Knife Skills Class & the Contemporary West Coast Class. A further review to follow.

avocado, cocoa & blueberry pudding

In adoration of the avocado, surfaces yet another recipe, sourced in reason of attempting to mimic a dessert manifesting a resemblance to dairy & sugar – both of which (as you can see from my last post) were restricted from me by way of the Wild Rose Cleanse. It’s a paradox to admit, but it really is difficult to deter from the avocado’s easy nature of versatility & seasonal appointment to summer.

If you even so sporadically read my blog, you will know that even though I mildly dabbled with culinary suicide vegetarianism, my Polish heritage practically raised me on sausages & thus my love for meat has dismayed any interest of ever letting go of it completely. The best of my efforts lie solely in my commitment to evolving as a conscious consumer by learning about where it is that my food actually comes from, & by making the most ethical purchasing decisions based on that knowledge. That being said, I have an abundant amount of respect for both vegetarians & vegans, for their efforts in creativity in ingredient substitution & their seamless successes with both simple & complex meals.

During my cleanse, I benefited from spending the weekend with my boyfriend, who is not only more experienced in the art of gastronomical constraints, (Master Cleanse Champion) but had also refused to let me bail on my cleanse when I whined about what an idiot I was to start one in the middle of summer. Instead, he attended to my palate’s nostalgia by finding a recipe for pudding using avocado’s instead of milk, & Stevia extract in replace of sugar.

People, this was, by far, the best pudding that I have ever had. Given both the taste & factor of time, I fail to foresee the purchase of dairy-based pudding in my future. The absorbency of the avocado makes for a texture that was not only creamy, but cooling, while the interplay of the cocao & the blueberries meddled perfectly in between.

Summer simplicity at its best.

| Photo courtesy of Raw Roxy Supplies