fruit filled french toast

I have been promising J I would make him some more stuffed french toast for the last couple of weeks. School, work, the ever-present mountain of laundry rising up out of the hamper in the corner... somehow, getting up and making breakfast on the weekends get lost under the covers.

This time I was making good on my promise. And boy was it good...

You can use whatever fruit you like for the filling. If it slices well like bananas or pears then they can go right in, as is. For berries, they should be macerated first.

I just so happened to have some extra cream cheese frosting leftover from cupcakes I made for class earlier in the week. Thanks for the recipe, La. The cream cheese frosting was actually J's idea. And for topping I chopped up craisins and pumpkin seeds and had 2 varieties. The Joy of Cooking strikes again!

Cream Cheese Frosting: (makes 2 cups)
8 oz cold cream cheese
5 Tbsp soft, unsalted butter
2 tsp vanilla
2-4 cups confectioner's sugar (I didn't use as much as Rombauer calls for because I wanted the flavour of the cream cheese to be more present. Plus I don't like having things too sweet. This is going on cupcakes and french toast after all...)

Step one: Beat together vanilla, butter, and cream cheese.
Step two: Sift in sugar in batches.
Step three: Stir, stir, stir! Or if you are lucky and have an electric mixer or food processor... well then... that's just a lot easier, isn't it?

For french toast: (this is for two, multiply as needed)

4 slices of bread (I like challah or sliced country loaves)
Arrange your bread slices like butterflies and spread 1 Tbsp of cream cheese frosting on each facing slice.

Layer banana slices so that they rest overlapping but still inside the edge of the crust.

How to macerate berries:
Rinse and dry raspberries... or blackberries, or blueberries (you get the idea.)
Place in a bowl.
Mash for 10 seconds or until the once-berries are now kind of in between recognizable fruit and jam.

Squeeze about 2 tsp of juice from a lemon. See this post for a tip on a quick, easy, clean way to juice a lemon without any fancy gadgets.

Sprinkle 1-2 Tbsp of fine or superfine sugar. Mix together and check for balance of sweetness, acidity, and berry flavour.

Let stand briefly before spreading over the already existing layer of cream cheese on one side of the butterflied bread.

In a medium sized flat-bottom dish, prepare a mixture of 3 eggs, salt, cinnamon, and a splash of milk and stir vigorously with a fork.

After closing each sandwich, press firmly together before placing the bread in the egg mixture.

Wait for the bread to soak up the egg before flipping and repeating the soak up time.

Prepare a large non-stick pan, melting about 1 Tbsp of butter over medium heat until sizzling.

Transfer bread from egg dish to hot pan. Fry on both sides until golden and no longer releasing egg when poked with a spatula.

J and I wanted to try 2 different kinds of filling so when it was ready to come out of the pan I quickly cut each one in half and served up combo plates. They were quickly doused in maple syrup and whipped cream and gobbled down with indulgent glee.

Now I ask you, if pizza is a vegetable, is raspberry and cream cheese filled french toast a serving of dairy and of fruit?

Portuguese egg tarts and why I love them

I don't exactly know when I tasted my first pastels de nata. I do know that I have since brought their delightful sweet flakiness to as many people as I can. Coffee dates with friends, potluck contributions to work meetings, most recently one to my grandfather who's still stuck in the hospital. Man oh man, did that make his day... I've never seen anybody eat of of these so fast...

For a long time I only ever had these tarts from Italian bakeries and cafes. Kind of funny, no? Nowhere near Italy and with a completely different food history, Portugal has it's own food thing going on - flame grilled chicken sandwiches, fresh seafood and egg dishes, and Port wine to name a few off the top of my head.

I think it has something to do with Portuguese bread. Ever the Italophile, my dad still swears that bread from the Portuguese bakery is the best. He's done his homework to discover that many of the Italian cafes and trattorias around town source their buns from Portuguese bakeries. In any case, I imagine this is how the Portuguese egg tart made its way into the display cases of Tra Amici Cafe and the Italian Centre Shop. The tarts pictured above, however, come from the Handy Bakery on 118th Ave and 87th Street. The ladies at the counter there are very friendly and the prices are exceedingly reasonable.

The essence of the tart is the creamy, sweet egg custard. Not jiggly or runny, it is a dreamy consistency. It doesn't even really taste like egg. But it's not just pure saccharine either. The tarts were first introduced by nuns at the Monastery of Belem, near Lisbon, in the early 1800's. Egg yolks were used in baking because the egg whites were needed for things like starching nun's habits. (Taken from this article in the Christian Science Monitor, it's fascinating!)

Since then, this delectable confection has become the signature pastry of Portugal. J and I were recently in Montreal visiting family and we stayed in the Little Portugal part of the city. The Plateau is an area full of international flavours - but undoubtedly, the smell of flam grilled chickens from all the sandwich shops is the dominant aroma, at least in my nostrils.

I awoke one morning to find that J had already been up and out, discovering the neighbourhood. He had returned with hot coffee and a little white box that I eagerly opened. Inside were four pasteis de nata, freshly baked. Not only is the custard filling velvety and beautiful yellow, but the pastry exterior is as once flaky and chewy. I don't know how, and frankly it blows my mind every time, as I am terrible at pastry.
You know how I know it will work with J and me? The man knows the way to my heart, obviously...

Bread Pudding or What to do with stale cinnamon buns ...

Start by opening up your Joy of Cooking to page 822. If you do not have a copy of Irma S. Rombauer's classic compendium of everyday dishes... well shame on you. But fear not - if you still choose not to add this essential encyclopedia of culinary wisdom, you're reading this, so at least you have the internet.

If you do a search of "bread pudding recipe" you'll find dozens of ideas to get you started. As Ms. Rombauer writes, "bread pudding is an efficient way to transform stale bread into a considerable variety of delicious desserts". There are very few rules when it comes to this dish. But of the few things that are certain you must not deviate.


1) Don't bother baking this with fresh bread. The whole point is to use up the ends of things like buns, sliced bread, or challah. I find challah makes the very best bread pudding because it's so rich and a little bit sweet already.

We had extra cinnamon buns lying around that were forgotten about after a lazy Sunday turned into a hectic week so they were the inspiration for this entry.

Cube the bread/buns/whathaveyou into bite-size pieces. You'll need about 5 Cups for this recipe, but a little more than that won't hurt.

*Note - the only bread that won't work for this is the kind made with baking powder or baking soda - you need actual yeast breads for bread pudding

2) Fillings are optional but always a good idea

There were raisins in the cinnamon buns so I thought I would go with the fruity theme and added a handful of dried currants (raisins being unavailable). You could use chopped up dried apricots or dates or even fresh apple. These are extra little add-ins and are not required for the pudding to be considered a pudding.

Sometimes I add roughly chopped dark chocolate or chocolate chips. Once I actually chopped up brie cheese and added a splash of brandy... that was legendary.



Like all of the best things, there is butter in my recipe. Though Ms. Rombauer doesn't list it as a main ingredient, she does instruct that the casserole or baking dish be "buttered". Take a nob of butter - from your retro orange glass butter dish if you have one - and using some parchment paper or the foil from the butter itself, rub it into the bottom and sides of the dish.

If you're trying to be health conscious - well, why are you baking a custard-based dessert in the first place? ... Anyway, you can replace that last step by spraying the baking dish with low-fat cooking spray.

3) Learn to make custard

The Joy of Cooking asks for 3 Cups of whole milk. We are a 1% milk kind of house but I happened to have a quart of buttermilk leftover from pancakes so I used that up and finished the 3 Cups with regular milk.

To the milk add 4 large eggs. I learned from my mother that you should always crack each egg into a small bowl or cup separately first before adding it to the larger bowl of ingredients. You never know when you might fail and end up with shards of egg shell all over the place - not delicious.

Also - and I've noticed this with the fresh eggs from the market especially - you need to watch for blood spots in the eggs - the blood should be removed or the whole egg should be discarded. It depends on how squeamish you are, I suppose.

Either way, lesson learned, thanks Mom!

Whisk together your milk, 4 eggs, 1/2 - 3/4 Cup of sugar (depending on if you're using already sweetened bread like cinnamon buns for example).


4) Get creative

Add your flavour boosters - 1 tsp vanilla, 3/4 tsp ground cinnamon, 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg, and a pinch of salt

As I mentioned above - in the past I've added all kinds of things to my custard to give it extra flavour.

Ideas? Try lemon zest, ground ginger, cloves, lavender, rosemary, almond extract, or Bailey's.

Really this the the fun part - the part where bread pudding can get really wild. Have fun with it -

And if you are particularly successful with your rendition, do let me know.

When your milk-egg mixture is all combined, all you have to do is pour it over the bread cubes sitting in wait in your prepared baking dish. Make sure you pour it evenly over all of the surface. Then all you have to do is wait. The dish needs about 30 minutes to soak up all the custard.

In the meantime there are lots of things you could do. Some might tell you to clean up after yourself. I think that is the job of whomever is lucky enough to be tucking into your dessert. And if that someone is you, well, I guess it will be all the more deserved, won't it?

Sweep the living room, fold laundry, rearrange your spice drawer, do whatever. I just wouldn't take the dog for a long walk as you need to press the bread down with a spatula periodically - every 5-10 minutes - to ensure proper soaking up-ness.


5) Get in the habit of always preheating the oven before it's time to put your food in

The other thing you should probably do in that half hour prior to baking is preheat the oven - at 350 degrees F.

Oh yes, and the other part of learning to make custard:

6) Prepare a water bath and set the baking dish inside it.
A water bath insulates the delicate custard from the violently hot oven temperature. It's easy. Find an oven safe dish that's larger than the one you're baking the bread pudding in. Line it with a few layers of paper towel. Rest the baking dish inside it. Pour water up to about halfway up the side of the bread pudding dish. Now your pudding is protected!

Bake the bread pudding for about an hour - depending on the hotness of your oven this may be a bit more or less. The time will also vary depending on the bread-custard ratio. If you have more custard and less bread, it will take a little longer.

You'll know your dessert is done when a knife inserted into the center comes out clean.

If you're really keen you can prepare a butterscotch sauce or some sweetened whipped cream to serve on top.

We (Irma and I) think bread pudding is best served warm, so if you want to reheat it in an oven at around 300 for 15 minutes or so, you'll really impress people at your next potluck.

Bread pudding is even more amazing because you can make it in advance of a get-together and it will only get better as it sits.

Remember to refrigerate that puppy - eggs left on the counter of several days = gross.

not all breakfasts are created equal

I love to brunch. To me, this delightful meal has gone beyond the status of mere noun and become a verb, i.e. "Hello dear fried. What are you doing next Sunday? Would you and your partner care to come brunching with us?" Eggs, hollandaise, wilted spinach, orange slices, veggie lasagna, smoked salmon, mimosas, endless coffee... that is my idea of culinary paradise. No matter where I am, whether at home or away visiting friends, I am perpetually drawn to the allure of a long, lingering late breakfast. I have my favourite places in my adopted cities of Ottawa and Montreal. I also know the best quiches, french toast, and breakfast sandwiches here in Edmonton. Recently, Vue Weekly did a feature on brunching in E-town and reviewed a number of my favourite haunts as well as exciting new restos that have opened in the past year or so. You can check out that article as well as other restaurant write-ups here. I make it my mission to try them all out. In the meantime, here are some thoughts on breakfast and the lazy hours drawing into the afternoons over friends, coffee, and conversation.

The new Urban Diner, southside
8715 109 St Tel. 780-437-7275
This was an odd experience. I had wanted to try this place out earlier, but when I showed up with a girlfriend shortly after 10 on a Wednesday morning, we found the door was locked with the hours printed on the glass stating that they didn't open until 11. What kind of breakfast place doesn't serve breakfast during breakfast time? Already this put me a bit on edge. When I returned another time with J on a Saturday we walked in to the busy dining room and were immediately informed that the lot we parked in right next to the restaurant was not for restaurant patrons and J was told he had to move his car to the customer parking in the back. There was no parking in the back. Whatever few stalls belonged to the restaurant were already occupied. Once he came back in out of the cold he had to register his vehicle with the hostess. Not a good start to brunch. Inside the restaurant patrons chatted and laughed boistrously. The din was actually so loud that J and I could hardly hear each other. I think the high ceilings and skylights, though lovely as far as ambiance goes, actually did a disservice to the place in terms of the noise level and ability to really enjoy the surroundings.

The food itself was quite good. I had the smoked salmon bennie - prepared with basil pesto, roasted bell pepper, spinach, and smothered in cheddar sauce and served on a grilled french bread with diner potatoes. It was decent. A rather large helping of potatoes with sweet potatoes mixed in was a nice surprise. J had the quiche of the day. This was definitely the highlight. J and I are on a mission to learn a foolproof, flawless quiche recipe and serve it up to our friends in our new place. This one leads the pack of samples as the most innovative. Rather than cooking the egg mixture in a flaky pastry crust this quiche was baked inside a starburst of puff pastry. The filling was ham, broccoli, and 3 cheeses.
My poached eggs were not overcooked. I hate it when cooks overdo poached eggs. Whats the point? I was, however, disappointed by the cheddar sauce and would have preferred a more traditional hollandaise, maybe with some dill or cheese mixed in. All told the sauce was actually rather bland. I don't think we'll be back here any time soon. If for no other reason than because as we walked back to J's car we noticed something yellow waving like a flag under the driver's side wiper. The poor guy got a parking ticket anyway.

A couple of weeks later, J and I were out house hunting with our friend Mel, who with her dog, Ollie, will be living with us. She and her partner Tony met us at the first house for around 9:45 on a Saturday. The place was great and we all got such a good vibe from the warm interior. The quaint little kitchen and attached dining room was my favourite part. J loved the working wood fireplace and we all got a kick out of the 70's reno job on the bathroom: diagonal cedar wood wall panelling, a skylight, and an original claw-foot bathtub. house hunting was off to a good start but we had a couple of hours to kill before our next viewing. Good thing we were all thinking breakfast.

Route 99 Diner has been around forever. Right on 99th street, it's unchanging retro diner interior is comforting and quirky. The waitresses are all no-nonsense women who never need to write orders down. Old records line the walls and the red vinyl booths are a strange comfort. Strange only because I never lived through this era and yet I feel so attached to the aesthetic appeal of this type of place. This is the kind of place I wish I knew about in highschool. It would have been a much better place to ditch school as opposed to the Humpty's across the street that we always ended up at. Don't get me wrong, I have immense fondness for that Humpty's in its own right. I got a stack of pancakes with breakfast sausages. I think I finished about half of my plate. I passed the rest over to J who had no problem finishing my meal as well as his omelette and hashbrowns. Mel, true to form, got chicken finger with hash browns instead of fries, which they happily accommodated. Tony got bacon and eggs. I sometimes hesitate over the choice between bacon and sausage in breakfast joints because I've had too many strips of limp, mostly fat, greasy bacon. Not so here. Hers were crisp with an equal ration of meat to fat.

Maybe I'm biased, but simple really is better sometimes. Route 99 has been hitting it out of the park for years by staying true to their formula. Straight forward, no frills food served fresh and hot without any pretension.

Route 99 Diner
8820 99 St. Tel. 780-432-0968

Of course, there are also those spots that serve exactly what you want to eat, breakfast, lunch, and diner. The Sugarbowl was Edmonton's saving grace when I was first adjusting to the though of leaving Ottawa and Montreal and returning to my hometown. The thought of 8 months of remorseless winter and what I thought was a veritable culinary wasteland was depressing to say the least. But my memories of summer days on the patio drinking Blanche de Chambly on tap and frosty winter nights ensconced in scintillating conversation over smoked paprika popcorn and applewood smoked cheddar mac and cheese saved me from my worst food nightmares. Coming home I rediscovered the Sugarbowl and came to love it for morning breakfast catchup dates with girlfriends studying at the university down the road. Especially their Huevos Rancheros... I've had them before and been unable to finish more than about half of my plate. So thinking ahead, this time I got a half order. And it was so tasty looking that I forgot to get a shot of it before I dug in. Poached egg, black and white beans, cilantro, and homemade salsa all atop a fried corn tortilla accompanied by more salsa as well as guacamole and sour cream. This dish is a pleasant escape from the frigid temperatures outside. Memories of a much warmer climate and the sound of distant waves wash over me with every bite. I'm hesitant to share.

The Sugarbowl
10922 88th Ave. Tel. 780-433-8369

The atmosphere here is one of its greatest draws. A little bit industrial with exposed red brick walks and air ducts, and little bit offbeat with mismatched wooden tables, and very grounded in the Edmonton food and art scene with local artists' work lining the walls and local ingredients figuring prominently in the daily specials. I love The Sugarbowl. At breakfast, lunch, or dinner or straddling multiple mealtimes. I can easily while away my days here with free wireless that let's me update my blog and plan tonight's dinner. FYI - chicken chorizo sausage in a spicy tomato sauce with pene pasta and a feta and dill green salad. Possibly flourless chocolate cake if I have time.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, we signed the lease on the cute little house with the fireplace last week. Keep your eyes peeled for posts from my new kitchen coming soon!

rags to riches

Sometimes I marvel at the vicissitudes of life. When I last wrote, my whole family was together, it was summertime, and I was simply blissful having spent an afternoon picking raspberries on a farm just outside of Edmonton. Today I'm sipping Remy Martin XO, looking out over Lake Edith and swooning adoringly into my love’s eyes, not a sister or great aunt in sight. I’ve been dreaming of Italian adventures and doing everything but praying that I get into grad school. Maybe I should consider praying… I suppose it couldn’t hurt.

Normally I spend Labour Day weekend watching the Eskimos play in Calgary and taking in pier sections from a near-freezing lake. You'd be surprised how fetching hip-waders can actually be... This year I decided to get out of town completely.

We spent last night at the Chateau Lake Louise, driving out after I finished work. It was a late start by the time we actually got on the highway and it rained intermittently the whole way up. A rather impressive flourish of rain came down at the end. We drove through the dark woods on either side and were awestruck as the illuminated windows of the castle came into view. We had planned to spend hours whiling away in the Walliser Stube fondue lounge, but by the time we got in all we wanted was room service and a big comfy bed. Unfortunately we were so overwhelmed by the splendour upon our arrival that I forgot my camera in the car that night.

But in case you were wondering, I had a grilled salmon pita with a side salad and Joey had a rather extraordinary grilled vegetable wrap with roasted pepper spread and perfectly cooked homemade french fries. Together we polished off a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir from Oregon made by Wine by Joe, 2008. The salmon was cooked perfectly and came apart with my fork in delicate but firm flakes. We didn’t have dessert, but at that hour it’s probably a good thing. It was only the one night that we stayed at the Chateau, but it was altogether memorable.

Yesterday we slept in a little and came down for lunch in the lounge, gazing out at Lake Louise from the wide, Palladian windows that line the main floor façade. Though my onion soup was generally forgettable, the wild boar bacon and chanterelle mushroom quiche was rich enough to share, leaving Joey's roasted vegetable sandwich as a snack for the road, which we packaged up and took with us. He also had a soup of the day, which was a creamy potato and parsnip. I like the idea of this soup better than we liked the actual thing in front of us, so now it’s going into my bank of things to experiment.

The drive from Lake Louise to Jasper is a lot longer than I remember. Not realizing the distance, we had to make good time once we got moving. Before we got back onto the highway we stopped briefly in the village for a coffee and a snack. Do yourself a favour and get an almond macaroon or a pizza bagel from Laggan’s Mountain Bakery. I got both and was not the least bit sorry.

(Right: the only bite of the legendary macaroon I was able to capture before devouring the whole thing)

Arriving late again in Jasper we checked in, unpacked in the room, and went straight for the room service menu. I decided to go big. I figure, when will I ever again be able to go all out in a place like this? Heck, I can only afford such an extravagant holiday because I work for the company. Next time I visit these places, I’ll likely be sleeping in a tent. So I ordered the 7 oz. filet mignon with buttered mashed potatoes. Joey got the spinach and ricotta cannelloni with a tomato sauce, which came with the additional cream for the sauce on the side. A very thoughtful touch, we both thought, being able to add as much or as little cream as he liked. My steak was cooked to perfection. It can’t be easy to prepare a steak for transport to a little cabin away from the central kitchen and ensure that it still arrives cooked rare, pink in the middle. The meat was tender and seasoned simply with salt and pepper, slightly charred on the outside adding a caramel flavour to each juicy bite.
Even a small cut like the filet I found a bit too much for me, but I never feel bad leaving things on my plate. I just don’t think it’s healthy to insist on cleaning one’s plate, nor was it ever insisted by my mother that I do so. I hate it when people remark at how much or little I eat, that’s my own damn business.
Oh yes, and we paired the late supper with a Chilean Syrah, very good value for dollar on this bottle – spicy, bold, and a little supple in the mouthfeel, a great food pairing wine.
(Right: My perfect room-service steak)

Anyway, we had thought about getting the big to-do brunch delivered to the room this morning, but decided to not be lazy bums and got our asses into comfy seats at the window’s of the lounge, just off the main lodge’s lobby. Looking out over yet another beautiful lake, we relished at the arrival of a big french press full of fresh coffee. We were hungry, but I knew I couldn’t eat anything too rich after last night, so we decided to split the smoked salmon Eggs Benedict. It was taking a long time, but our server brought us fresh orange juice and a fresh press of coffee, apologising for the delay. We weren’t really bothered, having found ourselves in such a paradise. When the food finally came, I was amazed by what lay in front of me. The egg was perfectly poached. Breaking it open let loose a flow of rich creamy yolk, and the hollandaise was lemony and quite light. The roasted fingerling potatoes were well cooked too – fluffy inside, but slightly crispy on the outside, the feel of the skins breaking between my teeth as I sunk them in. On the side was half a roasted roma tomato. A perfect meal to split, especially washed down with freshly squeezed orange juice and more hot coffee.
(Right: A half-order of the smoked salmon Benny)

Currently I’m sitting in front of that same window overlooking the lake, having gone for a swim and cleaned myself up a bit. Alert, but relaxing next to a warm snifter of Remy Martin XO, I don’t think I can honestly say that I’ve ever been more content. Tra la… I wonder what the soup of the day is…(Centre: view from my window in the Emerald Lounge at the Jasper Park Lodge)

late night dinner omlette

Have you ever gotten in after a very long or busy day and not had the slightest inclination or even energy to cook yourself dinner? Sometimes the only thing that might turn your day around is a hot, filling dinner and it's too late to get even the least bit imaginative with any ingredients you may find in your fridge. My friends, I have the answer. When all else fails... it's omelette time. Omelettes are amazing. Eggs in general are pretty spectacular; miraculous, nutritious, curious things that they are. Some of you may be saying, "But eggs are breakfast food." Others may be a little open-minded and see baked goods and brunch when they imagine eggs and what they could be. The greatest thinkers, adventurers, and kitchen savants have dared to crack eggs even after the sun has gone down. This is a story about just such a culinary conundrum.

My boyfriend and I arrived late at the lake cottage after a long day of work and activities in the city. Almost immediately we split up duties. We would both unload the car, I would deal with putting away the groceries and opening up the rest of the cottage and he would chop wood for kindling and be generally rather useful. Of course, as soon as I had opened up the front and come around to let him in, I realized that he was carrying every single bag and parcel all in one go. Oh dear me.

Setting ourselves to our other tasks, I unpacked everything into the fridge and onto the counter and then checked on the progress of the kindling. A little slower going in the dark, no doubt. I poured us each a glass of Chilean dessert wine - Noble Rotted Sauvignon Blanc... delicious - almost like syrupy cider. This gave me a bit more time to think as I looked through the fridge, familiarizing myself.

Next, I was on to the more pressing task of figuring out what we could eat at 11 at night. I quickly realized that I had forgotten my good knife in the city. I was bummed, but made do with the serrated set my family has out there. Oh, and in the rush to pack and leave town, I also forgot my camera with that super sweet macro lens. Once again, coming to the rescue, we used the camera on my boyfriend’s iPhone to capture the lightning fast meal that came together in the end.

Since I was cooking for two, I just figured out how much I could eat for myself and then added the same amount plus a little more for him. A 2-egg omelette is usually plenty when you factor in all the fillings, and whatever starch or sides you may choose to serve with it. I was incredibly grateful at this particular moment for the help of a really friendly produce guy at my local supermarket. For fillings I diced vine-ripened tomatoes, chopped fresh basil, garlic and shallots, crumbled goat feta, and finished with a few scattered toasted pine nuts.

I like to throw in a splash of milk to the beaten eggs. It makes the omelette a little fluffier. Don't forget to salt and pepper the raw egg mixture. I started with butter and began lightly browning half of the shallots, eventually adding half the garlic. Once the aromas started to mingle and fill the kitchen, I poured in an eyeballed half of the eggs. The first two ingredients will cook with the egg. Give it a good while to start to get hard from the bottom up. While the top of the eggs in the pan are still wet, crumble in the cheese. You want to put things in strategically so they cook and have time to melt and so on.
Then I added the tomatoes and fresh herbs. To make sure the flip goes well, I move the pan around the flame to get the one side set pretty well through. Then it’s all or nothing. I chose the technique of willing the eggs not to fall apart and that seemed to work pretty well. I think it’s all about confidence. The food was hot and fresh and made in about 30 minutes. I topped it at the end with some toasted pine nuts. Do try this at home. The possibilities are endless once you nail the technique and get a feel for them.

montreal delights

Montreal. It evokes in my mind a city of light, of culture, and most certainly of some of the best food in North America. The most common refrain of its utterly European style and lifestyle makes you feel like you are in a place where everyone is zigging in a country where people are known for zagging. Montreal is groovy. It's old and up late and may boast some of the best ethnic food in Canada. Even its high-end designer, haute cuisine establishments are serving up artistic creations topped with infused foams and strange and exciting fungi.
Montreal, not unlike Toronto in this respect, strikes me as one of the brunchiest towns I've ever had the pleasure of dining in. Very good eggs and toast places with charm and character pop up all over the place. Visiting this city with sisters as my guides, I have eaten some very yummy late-morning-breakfast-lingering-into-long-afternoon-coffee-and-walking-around meals. This time I returned to L'Anecdote on Rachel and Saint-Hubert. The inside of it is deceptively large. The front area is very retro and has big cosy red leather booths with wide windows that look out onto Saint-Hubert. Further back bigger tables are available for larger groups. In the front, dessert and chrome sparkle to greet the new customers.
An old friend from art history met me by the Sherbrook metro and we walked over together. The trouble is, we got so wound up in visiting and coffee that I sort of forgot to take a before shot. This is what was left of a very large and tasty diner breakfast. Delicious.


Then we continued strolling and ended up on a mission for beer. My friend was about to move and the occasion definitely called for a couple cold ones. We discovered a very interesting deppanneur on Duluth. Lots of locally microbrewed beers at a very good price with mix and match deals. Ultimately, we found a very pretty little spot to get ice cream on Saint Denis called Au Festin de Babette. He had orange chocolate and I had pistachio.
Later in the afternoon, I met two of my very best friends at the bus terminal, down the street from my sister's apartment where I had been staying. We wrapped our arms around each other, said a quick hello while they freshened up back at my sister's, and we were back out on Saint Denis. We stopped for a quick bite and a slice of pie at Rockaberry (mocha tiramisu, which we saved for later) and then shopped the afternoon sun away. As it set we headed to our hotel, The Queen Elizabeth, and checked it. After another quick recharge, we returned to the Plateau where my fabulous sister was waiting to join us for dinner at one of my favourite restaurants in Montreal.
Just a short walk down Saint Denis from my sister's house is Chuch, a vegan Thai restaurant with the most remarkable fake meat I've ever eaten. The textures are so real and the sauces are so flavourful that I enjoy it as much if not more so that non-vegan Thai food. The four of us went crazy. Though there was only one vegetarian among us, I would describe the lot of us as more or less flexitarian. The vegetable dumplings went so fast I didn't get a chance to take a picture of them. When the rest of the food arrived, I was sure to keep my wits about me before having at it like the lost boys in Hook.
We each chose a non-meat or a sauce that sounded scrumptious and got a few helpings of rice to round things off. My sister was incredibly helpful in recommending her favourite dishes, and I usually take my cue from experts when they know more than me in a resto. The four of us shared Chicken in red and green curries, Beef in three sauces, and duck with deliciously guilt free crispy skin.We shared two bottles of white wine - a Gewurztraminer than needed to be way more chilled than it was, but was still quite promising - and a Pinot Grigio.
At this point in the story I should probably tell you that I was in Montreal celebrating my birthday... that officially began at midnight and was rung in with mocha tiramisu pie for the birthday cake. Sorry dear readers, that I have no picture of that magical moment either. But I can tell you that when the three of us friends woke up in out big comfy beds in the Queen E the next morning, and before we checked out and left town, we said goodbye to Montreal in style, with room service.