P i s t a c h i o

A young German chef lost two hands in a liquid nitrogen accident.

Kids, we’re not in Kansas anymore.

“Tiradito is said to be the most cherished imprint the Japanese left on Peruvian cuisine. It’s often compared to sashimi for that reason, but it’s actually more like carpaccio.”

The soul of authentic Peruvian cuisine can be found in a humble place called Soñia’s, a popular Lima eatery that specializes in ceviche — fresh, raw fish dressed with lime juice and little else. The fish still carries the flavour of the ocean, and as a foil for the lime’s brightness, ceviche is traditionally served with sweet potato and corn.

In this neighbourhood, where there are cevicherí­as at every turn, Soñia’s, has endured because, for the last 30 years, she has been cooking the fish that her husband pulls from the Pacific that morning. You don’t dine at Soñia’s. You eat what is likely to be the best ceviche you’ve ever had and you’ll try other fish, too, like the fried calamari.

Gourmet advisory: not all Peruvian eating is like this — a little out of the way, very casual and relatively unchanged over three decades. [more]

“I wanted witnesses. I wanted to mark the moment so that we would remember it.”

– Jeff Crump

The book had modest beginnings. “We had in mind a little spiral-bound book,” says Jeff Crump, Executive Chef of Ancaster Old Mill. He wanted to document how his kitchen and a local farm had found an exciting way to work closely together. Then Random House got interested, then a New York agent, then Earth to Table: A restaurant and farm relationship began entertaining inquires about Chinese publishing rights.

“A lot of farmers are gun-shy about working with chefs,” says Crump. “Chefs are picky, and kitchens aren’t naturally geared toward buying from small farms. But Crump found his match in Chris Krucker of nearby ManoRun Organic Farm.

“Chris got it,” says Crump….more

“I don’t dig very fussy, highly manipulated plates.”

– Anne Yarymowich

It’s always bothered me that there’s an entire industry churning out vegetarian food made to look like meat.

I saw quite a lot of it last week at the Grocery Innovations show.

This is uniquely North American, because vegetarian cultures have never run out of satisfying ways to cook vegetables without any need to pretend they’re meat. When these cultures use tofu and tempeh, it’s as the things themselves. No mocking, faking or subterfuge.

The Chicago Tribune ran a piece last week about what it called “fake food,” like “Vienna” sausage and “cheese food” singles. But for vegetarianism, why does it need to be fooled into being itself? is it really vegetarianism for carnivores or for social vegetarians? And if so, are they your real market? And if not, is your market not even your own?

Veggie resto owner Karyn Calabrese tells the reporter: “It’s a cultural lure. I serve ‘ravioli,’  but they’re made of turnips, and the filling is macadamia nut cheese. Who do you think would buy it if I said ‘I have a plate of turnip and macadamia nut cheese’?”  A vegetarian, for one, is what I’m thinking. It’s a dubious state to be in if you’re selling your stuff to the self-described converted as something other than what it actually is — or worse, as the thing you oppose.

As a committed carnivore, I had one of the best meals in my life at Live Organic Food Bar on Dupont. What they were able to do without meat was something genius, gorgeous and delicious.

When its integrity is recognized, the thing itself is good, and that’s a worthy thing.

Riffling through some research for a profile I’m writing about Anne Yarymowich, Executive Chef of the Art Gallery of Ontario, I came across a couple of those “Why-aren’t-there-more-women-chefs?” articles, and I have to ask: why are we still measuring women against men in terms of a body count?

The complaint is a half-empty glass, and in a gulp, all women cooking professionally are “not enough,” particularly the new 26-year-old chef being reviewed in said piece and whom the writer admired.

No one should enter a field to represent her gender. Our only purpose is to feed the fire in our bellies, whatever the work. The fire knows more than we do, and it’s not gender-specific.

Out of the Frying Pan is a memoir by Gillian Clark, who left a career in communications to become a chef. [Been there. Can quickly relate.]Despite some tender moments from her childhood — particularly her description of how her father inspired her love of cooking — Clark doesn’t sugar-coat a thing:

…the long hours and what that meant to her kids, whom she was raising alone

…the tenuous hold her restaurant owners often had on their businesses

…the struggle to build and train a great team, only to lose great key people, again and again

…those difficult cooks and kitchen helpers who turn out to be fiercely loyal, enduring and true, but still prickly…

I particularly enjoyed Clark’s most telling display of visionary womanhood: to open her own restaurant despite her kids’ challenges. She said her kids deserve a mother who has the courage to follow her dreams. This would show them how to follow theirs.

â—Š

When I think of women and Harleys, I think of Lynn Crawford, the Four Season’s New York Executive Chef, who took on Bobby Flay on Iron Chef America.

A few years ago, she told a reporter that her dream job would be to test-drive Harley Davidsons. Lynn’s a serious rider, and there are a couple of photos kicking around of her straddling her beloved ride.
Given her penchant for silver jewelry, I wondered what she’ d think about the new ring Harley’s putting out as part of a new venture into marketing specifically to women? Consumer Experience Expert Susan Abbott has taken a look at the new marketing terrain of women who ride, and from the book Riding Stories, she cites this quote:

“After a long day’s ride, dirty from the road, sunburned and windblown, I have to say that I’ve never felt more beautiful!”

You’ll very likely get the same response, but with different scenery, from a happy cook at the end of a long, demanding, satisfying shift of putting out 100 inspired plates, with a 12-burner stove blazing behind her.

Well, it finally happened.
– James Chatto

It has indeed.

Susur Lee is going to New York City to open a new restaurant for a tony boutique hotel chain. He’s closing “Susur,” the higher-end of his two eponymous restaurants. and leaving open the more casual “Lee,” for his up-market hipster crowd.

Big surprise.

There are only a handful of Toronto chefs who would make that move, but also make it successful from a business point of view. And none is more likely to succeed than Lee.

His stature extends far outside national, never mind metropolitan, borders. Although he’s greatly admired at home, his American recognition carries considerably more heft from a sheer number’s point of view. There are easily 10 times the industry watchers passing judgment in the U.S., and 10 times more chefs at Lee’s level of skill, most of whom likely covet Lee’s opportunity.

Also, gotta say it: he’s handsome, stylish and exotic. New Yorkers are going to love that, too. But he’s going to deliver. He’s a gifted powerhouse, and we love that he’s ours, if he doesn’t mind me saying so.

One by one, thanks to the media for eliciting comment, Lee’s peers have begun to chime in.

There was a vague sense of sour grapes when Mark McEwan stated the obvious. “It’s a tough town,” he said, but then briskly wished him well. McEwan is still fresh into his gorgeous “One” experience at the new luxury Hazelton Hotel. With New York City a chef’s mecca, I wouldn’t be surprised if McEwan wishes he, too, could make a run at it, but his hands are full of success here at home.

Claudio Aprile spoke of Lee as an artist, which reveals Aprile’s values about his own work. Art, science, craft, skill, gift. I stay away from this debate. My interest is in the business side of things. Can the chef-owner keep them coming back, covering costs, paying all the bills, growing the business and keep head, heart and life together?

The business side of being a chef is the final frontier for any cook who has ever dreamt of opening his or her own place. The sad and sometimes swift demise of so many sweet spots proves how elusive it is to be a successful restaurateur.

I don’t doubt for a minute that there’s a sweet slice of the Manhattan pie for Lee. He’s clearly up for the challenge, and no one deserves it more.

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.
– DaVinci

I met Jeff in 1999, when we were both sous chefs at the Art Gallery of Ontario. He worked in the restaurant, and I was on special events, so we never worked side by side, but I kept my eye on him, because his ideas were always very interesting to me.

He favoured simple executions with high-quality ingredients, constant reminders of the influence of Alice Waters, of one of his culinary heroes, and mine as well.

Waters was famous for telling her cooks, “Humble yourself in front of your ingredients,” which made a lot of sense to me. It was about how the cook would honour the ingredient’s best qualities and bring that to the plate.

Often, just before lunch service, I’d wander over to Jeff’s station to see what he’d done for the day’s special. My favourite was a treatment for the fish of the day, a sauce of olive oil, lemon, parsley, currents, capers and pine nuts.

As he showed it to me, he ran his spoon through the sauce to show its characteristics. Everything was fresh, balanced and simple. I knew immediately how it would taste and saw that each ingredient’s flavour had been given its due, and that all together, they would deliver something they couldn’t on their own.

It’s rare to be captivated by a dish in this way and for so long, but then, simplicity and elegance are irresistible.

::

Jeff’s talk at the September Women in Food Industry Management meeting caused a bit of a stir. A slide of his winter salad of root vegetables begged the question: where was the lettuce and tomato?. There wasn’t a speck of each , “because they aren’t the best of what earth is producing for us in winter, “ he told the crowd.

“We have to reconsider our notion of salad,” said the chef of The Ancaster Old Mill Restaurant. In fact, Jeff would also like us to reconsider our notion of food in general. As the person who brought Slow Food to Ontario, Jeff is an advocate and ambassador for the international movement, which is named for the antithesis of fast food.

“My idea of fast food,” says Jeff, “is prosciutto and the other charcuterie we make at the inn,” which illustrates the Slow Food principle rather well. Charcuterie is traditionally made during the winter months, so that it can cure in a cold cellar and continue to develop in flavour until it’s ready to eat in the fall. It’s fast, because you simply slice and serve, ideally with good bread and some wine.

The Slow Food Movement was born in Italy in 1989. It calls itself “a non-profit, eco-gastronomic organization to counteract fast food and fast life, the disappearance of local food traditions and people’s dwindling interest in the food they eat, where it comes from, how it tastes and how our food choices affect the rest of the world.”

Showing us the gorgeous slides that will illustrate his upcoming book, Jeff also took us on a tour of how he and his kitchen brigade forge relationships with local farms or compete for culinary recognition in Europe.

Watch for From Earth to Table, to be published by Random House March 2009

Drop by to see Jeff at The Ancaster Old Mill.
Check in with Toronto’s Slow Food Movement
Subscribe to Jeff’s gorgeous blog Earth to Table.