falling for fish

Oh, fish. What have I said about fish so far? Why haven't I gotten into cooking it before now?

I used to be scared of it. I have always found it delicious. Sometimes it is embarrassing. As a chef it has been for me a challenge. But it is definitely a food that inspires great conversation. There are certain people who feel very strongly about it. As a kid I remember loving my mom's tuna sandwiches. But the girls at school would tease kids who brought tuna, what with the fish breath that followed throughout the afternoon well into second recess. It's such a delicate thing. Sushi chefs have an almost spiritual relationship with fish.

Here's a great TEDtalk from a very intelligent and well spoken chef and author, Dan Barber. It's all about his take on the factory farming of fish and ways that farmed fish can be done more ethically and sustainably.

My dad makes great fish. Mostly cedar plank salmon on the barbecue. My mom specializes in fried sole. It's tasty but when she cooks it the whole house smells to high heaven and I end up days later still detecting a redolence that could only have its origins in the crumbly white fish I had eaten earlier that week. Both my parents taught me to always soak the fish in milk before I begin cooking with it. It takes away some of the old fishy smell and texture and revives it before a being rinsed under cold water and dried with paper towel.

I still use that trick and have found that if J spots some nice fish at the store and I don't have time to cook it, I can put it in the freezer, let it thaw in cool water for a while and the milk will do the rest.

Last month J found a lovely piece of salmon that was large enough for both of us with rice, cooked bok choi, and butterleaf lettuce and mozzarella salad. I did the salmon up in little breaded morsels, flash fried then glazed in a french mustard and herbs sauce. Before that it was those incredible pan seared scallops.

This week J thought his luck was repeating as he found a lovely piece of salmon at the store again. It turns out that what he found was actually steelhead trout. I cooked it crispy this time, instead of gooey, choosing a crust of crushed nuts as the source of crunch and fried goodness.

Pistachio-Crusted Steelhead Trout

Prep a portion of fish as above in pan with milk high enough to cover most of the fish.

In another pie plate or deep dish prepare a half a cup of flour with a good sprinkle of kosher salt, and maybe a half tablespoon of lemon pepper. Stir together with a large fork.

After the fish has been left soaking in milk for 30 minutes (or up to 2 hours, covered and refrigerated), rinse under cool water and pat dry.

Place fish in flour bed and press firmly before turning over and repeating.

In another dish crack and beat 1 egg. Use a second if preparing for more than 2 people. Lift fish from flour, shaking off excess, and dip both sides in egg mixture.

This is the moment where I thank the kind men at Akhavan for selling me shelled pistachios so cheaply. I went to the jar on my counter, took out a handful of pistachios, maybe a scant half cup. I didn't want to waste any. Using J's amazing magic bullet I crushed up the pistachios in a buzz or two and dumped them out into another deep dish. Shake the dish back and forth to ensure an even layer of crushed nuts on the bottom of the dish.

Life the fish out of the egg pan and wait for the excess to drip off. Transfer the fish onto the bed of pistachios and press down firmly, careful not to damage the flesh of the fish as you do so. I gathered up all the stray bits of pistachio and crumbled them over the uncoated side and then flipped each piece over to ensure an even coating on both sides.

In a medium nonstick pan heat 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil over medium-high heat. When the oil moves around the whole pan easily and is starting to shimmer, carefully place each piece of fish into the pan. Shuffle the pan back and forth to ensure the oil is encircling the fish.

Watch the sides of each piece in the pan. As the fish begins to cook the flesh changes colour and texture, usually about 5 minutes. When the fish is changed a little more than halfway through, flip it over. Continue cooking for half the time that it took the first side to cook, about 2 min. You may need to turn down the heat at bits of coating from the fish come off and start to burn. Transfer to a plate with doubled up paper towel on bottom.

*Remember to pour off your leftover cooking oil into a dirty dish or jar and dispose of it in the garbage once it is cooled. Never pour cooking oil down the sink.*

Serving suggestions:
Prepare rice before you start working on the fish. I tossed some zucchini sticks in a marinade of maple syrup, ground sage, fresh ground pepper, and olive oil. Other vegetable ideas - grilled stuffed portobello mushrooms, roasted butternut squash, steamed broccoli with cheese sauce, asparagus, Greek salad, corn niblets, mashed sweet potatoes.

restaurant quality pan seared scallops at home

It all began this afternoon. Actually, it all began about two weeks ago when midterm projects and exams began. That was around the same time that J came down with a wicked cold. I remember because it started the day after Yom Kippur and the day before Thanksgiving. The Jewish holy days always come with lots of traditional foods. Yom Kippur is different because it comes with the denial of food for 25 hours followed by a huge binge. I think this was a bit of a shock to poor J's system. This was his first fast and I was very proud of him for making Yom Kippur meaningful in his own way and in his own time. Le sigh.

Anyway, J started to come down with something the day of his mom's family Thanksgiving and spent half of the day trying to sleep in his old bedroom, avoiding his nieces and nephew. Since then, I've eaten more soup than any span of time in recent memory. I took very good care of J making soups from turkey bones, beans, and squash. My dad always told me, a good soup always starts with a mirepoix and a frying pan.

As you might expect, I eventually caught J's cold and had to continue the soup cycle for another week. J made a weird soup that kind of didn't work. I think he just make the mistake of putting too many things in it. One night I tried the Chinese take-out counter down the street, Mirama. Great chicken noodle soup. Cheap and cheerful soy sauce chow mein. Got a couple spring rolls for J and the three things came out to $11. Visit their website by clicking on the link for a take out menu and the number to call. Free delivery over $10! Cash only...

Today was a special day. It was the first day in two weeks that neither of us had an exam or paper and both of us were feeling on the better side of this cold. We walked down to Monkland Village. I am thrilled to say that the bad days are over and the coffee maker that I broke has been replaced with a lovely french press, a grinder, and some freshly roasted Kenyan beans. The coffee came from Le Maitre Boucher, 5652 Ave. Monkland (between Harvard and Oxford), (514) 487-1437. As did a most surprising assortment of goodies.

The shop was very crowded and there were all kinds of treasures inside. I spotted them out of the corner of my eye. In a little, see-thru plastic container, nestled in an open refrigerated case, there sat protected from the world, ten beautiful scallops from Nova Scotia. I should have taken a photo of them all cozy in the package together, each one a beautiful, clean tasting morsel of the sea.

I had to think of a plan fast so I went for some strong, crumbly, sweet blue cheese and a large, firm pear. They will end up in some sort of bruleed masterpiece when I figure out how to use my new blow torch. We quickly dropped off the precious ingredients at home and I leafed through old copies of Cook's Illustrated. I remembered a sweet pea puree that I had seen used under some halibut recently. I know I've read articles about how to complete perfect pan-seared scallops at home, if only I could find the issue.

Out the door again, this time to the supermarket for frozen peas and a couple other key ingredients. Cream for our new coffee. The baby bok choi also looked fresh so we picked some up and figured we'd find a way to cook it later.

The pea puree was very easy to make and left one huge but simple component complete and at the ready. The scallops needed little more than salt, pepper, vegetable oil, and unsalted butter. I wasn't sure of the exact order of what to do when, but I was sure I had read an article about it this summer. I kept looking through the magazines and couldn't find it. That's when I remembered my online membership. I was on the recipe faster than a flash in the pan.

Inside of a minute I had found a cross-referenced article about sauces for scallops and settled on a lemon-herb brown butter sauce. J came into the kitchen when things started to smell good and made himself useful as photographer, sous-chef, and dish boy. The penne aglio olio never would have happened without him.

Next time I make this (which will be at a dinner party near you) I would do a couple of things differently. Rather than boiling them in a high walled frying pan I would blanche and then stir fry the bok choi in ginger and green onion.

I would also add more liquid to the pea puree when I blended it.

We have enough leftovers to turn this into an appetizer for us tomorrow night. If they don't get eaten cold from the fridge as an afternoon snack during the day.


Pistachio ice cream for dessert.

Sunday Dinner at Lucky 97 Chinese Market

There are all sorts of curious things that can be found in Chinese markets. Sometimes smelly, always colourful, Lucky 97 is one of the cheapest places I know of to get fresh herbs all year round and often sells the same North American supermarket items you would normally pick up elsewhere at reduced prices - milk, red peppers, juice, spices etc.

Today, J and I decided to stock up our pantry at our new little house with some sauces and a big sack of rice. We found a lot more than that, let me tell you...

The fresh fish and seafood all looked wonderful. I took my camera out as soon as we walked in the front doors of the busy shop this afternoon. I just missed capturing the man behind the tanks struggling with a couple of crabs for somebody's dinner. He appeared to go for the feistiest crustaceans in the tank.

There were some lovely looking clams that I might have to try in a linguine alla vongole some time soon...

Right next to this remarkable container of ice and salmon heads were some de-boned fillets of salmon, well priced at around ten dollars and change. We got one for the two of us, thinking we'd either have leftovers for our new roommate, Mel, or save the rest for J to take for lunch Monday morning.

When we got home, after putting away the rest of our fabulous finds, of course, I took the fish out of its wrapping, rinsed it under some cold water, and then put it in a metal dish. I poured milk over the raw fish until it was mostly covered - a little trick I learned from my folks. If you soak the fish in milk first it takes away the fishy taste and smell.

I made a marinade of finely chopped green onions, freshly squeezed lemon juice (watch for seeds!), honey, and hemp seed oil from Mighty Trio Organic Farm. At the final moment I decided to add a little olive oil too for a different flavour, but I think that just made the fish smoke more when I put it on the cast iron grill. Make sure you add a lot of lemon juice. It breaks down the proteins in the fish meat and helps to cook the fish evenly, resulting in flakier flesh and tastier charred enzymes.

For your information, when buying fish, colour is not necessarily a good indicator of quality. Some farmed salmon is fed with industrially manufactured fish feed that has artificial dyes in it to enhance the pink colour of the fish.
The question of whether to buy wild caught salmon or the farmed variety is really dependent on a number of factors:
1) What is the scale of the farming operation? Do the farm owners manage waste responsibly or are there issues with runoff and other forms of pollution.

2) What kinds of chemicals, if any, does the farm use to treat the water that the fish are living in? come from the containment of the fish in enormous tanks.

*photo Sam Beebe / Ecotrust, taken from Dan Imhoff, Civil Eats

3) What tastes better to you? Some people prefer the richer flavour of the farmed fish. These fish are fed synthetic meal and remnants from other industrial farming operations. They get less exercise crammed into those humongous tanks like... hehehe... well, like sardines... hehehe.

Others prefer the leaner wild salmon. Living in the wild, these fish have eaten different foods and their flesh is less rich in yummy fat, having worked hard to survive.

If you would like to watch something very interesting and thought provocking about this issue of farmed versus wild salmon, check this out:

Dan Barber, How I Fell in Love with Fish

I put the salmon skin side down on a hot cast iron grill. One thing I still haven't picked up for my new kitchen... cooing spray. Without it, the skins stuck to the hot grill and the meat came sliding off the skin easily.

After a minute or two on the grill I spooned the marinade over the fish. Once I finished scraping off the rest of the skin from the grill (grrr), the fish was nearly cooked through on the one side. You can see the colour of the fish start to change and that should tell you if it's close. Having never cooked fish this way before I wasn't really sure what to do next. So I flipped each piece to let the rest of it cook and spooned some more marinade over the sizzling hot fish.

Warning, if you are doing this without a fan, be sure to open the window, your grilling salmon will be smoking quite a bit by this stage.















There were other strange things at Lucky 97 that caught my eye. J and I were both very impressed by the 5-layer jelly cups, though we resisted buying one to try for dessert. Instead I picked up a box of chocolate Pocky. Classic.
In the produce department there were all kinds of new and exciting fruits and vegetables. But I thought the baggies of pre-weighed Thai chilies were actually quite striking.

In the end, we did come home with a giant sack of rice and some fresh green beans, which I steamed up to go with everything.

It was a day of adventure. Roving Taster goes rogue. Sort of. I know where I'll be going for fresh herbs from now on. And chili garlic sauce. And rice wraps. Stay tuned for that linguine some time in the not-too-distant future.

Arriba! Authentic Mexican food in my own backyard.

I was recently called upon to assist a friend with a writing assignment. She had to do a piece for her travel writing class, becoming a tourist in her own city. She told me she wanted to try out a new restaurant somewhere on 118th Ave and I immediately thought of the brightly painted exterior of the Caribbean restaurant that I often pass on my way to the hockey games. In the depths of winter this seemed like an obvious choice to both of us so we made our plans and set a time and day to meet. I picked her up at her house and after a few wrong turns we found our way to the place. Of course, in the spirit of true touristic excursions we did not call ahead to reserve a table. Alas, when we made it through the snowy parking lot around to the front, there was a sign saying that they were closed for a holiday. So now what, we thought. Scouring up and down the main part of 118th we eventually had to turn around and were gloomily facing defeat.

Suddenly I noticed a sign for "El Rancho Spanish Restaurant" and read it out loud while Morgana looked out the window looking for other appealing options. "I thought they closed down," she said. "I guess they just renovated." Just off 118th, in a little commercial strip resides a vacation for your taste buds. El Rancho serves up Mexican and El Salvadorian cuisine made with grandma's love, from scratch. Truly, it's a grandma and mama operation, with no frills or pretense, just really really good food. Our server did not speak much English, but she definitely understood me when I told her I wanted whoever was working behind those swinging doors to teach me to make their tortilla soup. "It's easy," she told me, and then proceeded to walk me through the steps to her own version, using descriptions and hand gestures when the vocabulary failed. Start by boiling a chicken. Add celery and onion to the stock pot. Strain the liquid into another pot. Add tomatoes. Simmer until flavour is rich. Then finish with cilantro, avocado, queso fresco, and sour cream.

When we walked in there was only one other table occupied, not always the best sign. But it was already quite late in the afternoon and a Wednesday at that. The adobe coloured walls and solid wooden tables were warm and welcoming and the sturdy leather chairs were very comfortable. I've already told you how greatly I enjoyed the flavours of the tortilla soup. It was spicy but not overpoweringly so. The flavour base was chicken, onion, celery, and tomato and it was finished with fresh avocado, cilantro, homemade sour cream and crunchy tortilla strips. It tasted so homemade, as if my own grandmother (if she were Hispanic) had dished it out for me on a visit at her house. A great way to warm up and at $6.95 for a very large bowl it was perfect for sharing as a starter.

Though I had not had many that impressed me in the past, Morgana urged me to try the fried plantains. I am so glad I went against my instincts there because I think they were my favourite part of the meal. I've never had plantains like this - plantanitos, chewy, gooey, sweet and salty. Amazing. They were served with the same homemade sour cream. This sour cream was unlike any I've had before. It was a bit salty. It cooled the heat from the spice in the soup and added an even richer dimension to the plantains while cutting their richness with its acidity. Good to know that a dish of heaven can be yours for $5.95.

The spicy grilled shrimp came next, served with mango salsa and a little green salad. The mangoes were well ripened but diced just small enough not to become the focal point of the dish. For an appetizer, this was also a very large portion and could easily have been a main course if paired with a smaller appie to start or the soup. Priced more like a main dish too at $10.95.
The only other busy table was occupied by three Spanish speaking men. They said "hola" to us as we came in and carried on chattering away and joking with the server as she brought them more food. One of them was whistling and singing along to the salsa music playing cheerfully in the background.

When the next course arrived, I could hardly stifle the giggle. Our chicken quesadilla was smiling right at me, with sour cream and salsa for the eyes. I took this as a good omen and went right for one of the pieces in the middle. Melted cheese and refried beans oozed out onto the plate. As I took my first bite I was surprised to discover that unlike the usual cubed pieces of grilled breast meat I was enjoying sumptuous morsels of slow cooked meat, pulled from the bone. One after the other, each dish was making me fuller and happier. The quesadilla was smiling back at me as I smiled at Morgana and she smiled at the friendly men at the next table. This dish also came with a green salad and I think next time I will try the tofu version, just to see how they do it. Chicken quesadilla, $8.95.

Since we had a little extra room left and were still craving more from that incredible, mysterious woman in the kitchen, Morgana and I decided to each order a dessert and share those too. I ordered the flan (not the kind with crust and gelled fruit topping, more like a creme caramel) and Mo ordered the Mexican fried ice cream. Our server told us it would be a bit of a wait because the kitchen had to heat up fresh oil. Heavenly! We didn't mind waiting at all. The flan came out with whipped cream on the side and a stewed strawberry sauce on top. Morgana's ice cream was utterly delightful, totally fantastic, and wonderfully decadent. The coating was crunchy and the whole dish was doused in sweet syrup of some kind.

As we swooned over our desserts, saying very little to one another but exchanging looks of deep satisfaction, a family of four came in with two young girls in pigtails between 2 and 5 years old. As mom and dad looked over the menu we heard squeals of delight. I turned to see what was going on and the mother looked up and said in an accent, "Sorry, we just haven't had these foods in so long." Reading the menu out to her daughters in Spanish, she paused here and there as her husband nodded eagerly in agreement and I couldn't stop myself. "You should really try the plantains. The best I've ever had. Amazing." They took my advice. Both the parents and Morgana and I were clearly on the same page - nothing ventured, nothing gained.

what do you mean it's summer? it's started already? cool, let's have a picnic!

I swear, no one told me. I've spent so many back-to-back summers away, either in Ontario, Quebec, or Italy that I've forgotten what it feels like to experience an Edmonton spring followed immediately what I'm beginning to remember as Edmonton summer. I am guilty of falling victim to the intoxicating wafts of fresh blossoms and then greedily planting a garden before the Victoria Day long weekend. I also took a holiday in New York and didn't tend to my garden, as I should have in the days leading up to my trip. I was working extra hours at two jobs, training at one of them, and preoccupied with other writing I've been working on. So of course, bad things happened to the garden while I was away and shortly after my return. But I'm getting sidetracked. I'll tell you those stories in the next instalment of "planting a garden". The point is, I haven't written in a while nor have I been cooking, and so I must retrain myself to get back to those things, and to you, dear, loyal readers.
All right, yes, New York. It certainly felt like summer as soon as I got off the plane. The mercury did not dip below 30 degrees any day that we were there. At nights it cooled down slightly to around 25. That being said, it was rather difficult to maintain a high energy level to go go go the whole time. The vacation was a great deal about leisure, so we took our time. We loved choosing restaurants as it meant pouring over their online menus and dreaming of what kind of night might follow a meal at each place. Rarely did I find myself eating the entire meal (which was always at least twice as much as I could eat), but I didn't sweat it. One night we actually gave our leftover curry and rice to a homeless man on the way back to the hotel. Also, the heat made me realize that making sure we saw the 5 or 6 galleries, 2 museums, not to mention all the shopping,
Crab cakes and cucumber salad on the patio grill at the Boathouse in
Central Park
theatring, and fine dining as we could - not so realistic. There were a number of delightful food moments and memories, too many to share them all with you.

Some of the brightest food highlights (indeed in the darkest
places) I've captured with my Nikon D40. I've got a good old lens, but she's a bit broken and needs to be fixed. She kept conking out on me, so I was very happy to have had my friend's macro lens on loan for the trip. I've been playing around with that a lot since coming home and starting to cook again (!) I welcome your input and suggestions on updating my lens for my DSLR. I am thinking right now that I'll just send the warranteed lens away and pick up a well-made low price range macro lens too.

Wild blackberries that I noticed were growing on an island on the lake
in Central Park. I don't think the birds, ducks, and turtles will miss
these few we nabbed.

I want to tell you about this one meal I had though... I was given loads of advice and suggestions for where to eat and what to do while in New York. Thank everyone who offered me his or her precious info. One suggestion that I am particularly thankful for was from my sister who used to live in New York. Based on her recommendation I took my companion and another friend who now lives in New York down to Chelsea and we ate at August on Bleecker. It would be easy to walk right by it. In fact, our cab driver wouldn't pull over right away. Peering through the big front window, the restaurant appeared to be empty. I trusted my sister, though, so in we went. A shiny, hot wood-burning oven with endless piles of orange glowing coals was obviously the first thing I was drawn to. Soon after I looked around I heard laughter and tickling glasses coming from somewhere further into the restaurant. The sommelier (and I assume also an owner or manager) greeted us and took us through the narrow restaurant into the glass-roofed patio in the back. Large plants hung down and lights were suspended across the courtyard-like space.
The dinner menu was small, but the food was divine and wine list was sensational. Our sommelier friend came over when we asked our server a rather odd question. My friend likes Pino Grigio and I made the assumption that something called Fie Gris would be rather similar. Our server hadn't tried this bottle, so she called in backup. The sommelier began to describe the wine without seeming to be able to put his finger on just what it was like or could be compared to. He called it "rich", and kept repeating that characteristic over and over. "It's a bit citrusy, yeah, but it's just so... rich." It's indescribable, but he was exactly right. Not quite like anything I have tried before, but deliciously rich without being buttery and still with lots of nice fruit and blossoms. I must write to them and find out the exact name of the bottle. In all the deliciousness I plum forgot to write it down...
We also enjoyed some wonderful oysters from Saddle Rock, Long Island. Don't believe that old hoohah about only eating oysters in months that have an R in them. This dates back to a time when we had poor refrigeration. Besides, these were harvested not too far from where I was dining, even better!
I thought when I ordered the salad with arugula and lamb's quarters that I would be getting something with pieces of lamb meat... yeah, lamb's quarters are actually wild spinach, I have learned. It was still delicious, but because I had imagined some incredibly rich, heavy salad course, I was actually a little disappointed. The chefs at August made up to me, though with the stunning main course that was created as the nightly special. It was a sea bream grilled and served with fresh microgreens and tarragon in a light cream sauce strongly flavour with lemon. The brine from happy little green olives commingled with the sauce and the natural smoky flavour and oils from the grilled fish. It was rustic, inventive, and incredibly satisfying. I ate a whole fish. Minus the head and the eyes, which I secretly kind of want to try.

My dining companions each got one of the pizzas that were on special that night. Every sunday they have a pizza and beer deal. Something involving a bucket of beer, it actually looked pretty cool. My friends gave mixed reviews to their main courses. The one who eats meat said his was fantastic. I tasted some and it was pretty damn good. Lots of good quality Italian cured meats crumbled over a wood fired pizza crust with lots of fresh mozzarella. The one who is a vegetarian said her pizza had too much going on and it certainly looked that way to me - peppers, greens, and fava beans all sort of thrown "rustically" onto the crust without all concern for the mixture of textures and flavours.

We finished the meal with a couple of desserts which we all sort of shared. My veggie friend and I shared the hot rhubarb crumble with black pepper ice cream on top and the carnivore had a trio of gelato. We all had a contentedly (almost uncomfortably) full walk down to Union Square and after one more cold drink in the hot heat, headed back into a cab, uptown, and into the night.

alive alive oh

I really think I get it now... the draw of the Maritimes. I had an inkling before, having visited Ireland and listening to stories of Newfie friends and my Halifax sister. But there is something in the morning mist, the salty air, and the pre-Confederation vibe that draws you in. I've fallen in love with the east coast and I'll long for it until I can return again.

On Saturday we woke up and had breakfast (more pancakes!) and then headed down to the Saturday farmer's market. This market had been talked up for weeks and I looked forward to comparing it to the other markets I've known and loved. I arranged to walk over with my host and his friend and meet my sister's roommates there. Of course we were running late and so when I did arrive I alerted the roommates of my presence with a one-word text indicating my whereabouts, "ukulele." The girls found me in no time.

There is a bit of controversy at the moment as various levels of government as well as stakeholders of the farmer's market have consorted to develop a new building down at the waterfront that will soon house the farmer's market all week long, all year round, bringing an end to the wickedly cool twisting, turning market in its current location at the Alexander Keith's brewery. The thing we most love about this place is, no doubt, its unexpected levels, its iron stone walls slowly rusting over a century, and arches that give way to wide open, glassed in courtyards.

Everyone in Halifax, at least those who regularly attend the Saturday market, seems to take pride in their knowledge of the vendors and the geography of the labyrinthine food and craft bazaar. Such conversations as "Oh yes, the honey lady... yeah, she's right by the lavender salt guy and the ice cream people... No, not those ice cream people, the ones just past the really good bread place." I can't say I blame them for losing this familiar established order. In an ever-changing world there is comfort in consistency.

Regardless, change is a given and change will always come. For Halifax, the new market venue will reflect the changing trends in energy consumption and our new, hip propensity to buy local, hopefully benefiting market vendors and Haligonians alike. Designs for the waterfront market include wind power, geothermal storage, rainwater conservation and solar collection, rooftop agriculture and coastal habitat space, and a more navigatable floor plan. The benefit of a daily market will undoubtedly appear on restaurant menus all over town, as well as in kitchens and picnic baskets on both sides of the harbour.

Leaving this local dispute aside, may I just say how thoroughly delighted I was by my time at the Saturday market. Wandering down to the lowest level, I stopped to buy some lobster-shaped maple fudge, and then followed my in-the-know guides to the oyster man. Breakfast oysters... amazing. I had two. I could have had a dozen. And probably should have, since they were only a dollar. A dollar! Some of the freshest oysters I've ever slurped. Everyone around me squirted lemon juice and Tabasco, but not me. Give it to me straight, I say. I made some joke about how where I come from all we have is prairie oysters, and when the man asked if I had ever tried them and I said no, I feel some of my plain oyster-slurping cred was erased. Oh well.

We also picked up some beet greens (should be called reds in my opinion), brioche, and double smoked bacon for a scallop cream sauce for dinner. I was advised to take a chance on a bottle of Jost Eagle Tree Muscat, 2009, a silver medal winner at the All-Canadian Wine Championships. It was a nice counterpoint to the creamy, smoky pasta dish and a joy to sip as I reflected on my wholly Nova Scotian dining experience.

happy as a clam

Welcome to Halifax, where the people are friendly, the beer is flowing, and the seafood is so fresh it jumps into your mouth.

I arrived yesterday afternoon after a long day of flying. A rush-hour meander through Dartmouth and I was at my friend's door. She lives above a delicious smelling Chinese restaurant on Quinpool. After a happy dance in the kitchen and a hot cup of tea we were out on the street, catching up and meandering towards the Common to sit out in the sunshine.

The evening was rounded out with dinner and drinks in a pub downtown - The Old Triangle. The food was not exactly legendary, but it was most definitely a good start to the seafood bonanza that I hope this town has in store for me. We started with mussels in a white wine and lemon juice broth - Mussels Molly Malone. Then there were the bacon wrapped scallops. They pronounce them scawlups here, and I was corrected early on, certain not to make this mistake again while I am here.
I could definitely have had another 4 orders of those scallops though...

There was also an oven baked Haddock Au Gratin which was an interesting dish - flaky white fish and mashed potatoes in a cream sauce, dredged in melted cheese - methinks I found a new maritimey comfort food which might reappear in my own kitchen sometime soon.
The seafood chowder left much to be desired, though, with mostly fish and potatoes as the leading characters and nary a scallop or shrimp in sight.
Not exactly a spectacular meal, but hey, I only just arrived.

Tonight, on the other hand, was a meal that will go down in history as The Night We Ate Five Pounds of Mussels.

I learned how to clean the mussels properly, wedging them open from the back joint and loosening the mussel away from the shell to ensure it cooks evenly. My hand was a little tender after preparing so many mussels, but as they say, many hands make light work and before long all five pounds were boiling away on the stove in a pot of salted water. In the meantime we chopped about 2 cups of curly parsley and minced six cloves of garlic and added them to a cup of melted butter and let it simmer together as the mussels cooked. After about five minutes at a rapid boil the mussels had turned yellow with an orange-ish tinge and we knew they were done.

My friend Sam and I sat ourselves down at the table with the mussel mountain in front of us and got right down to business. We actually ate them all, with sourdough baguette to soak up all the leftover sauce. When the butter mixture commingles with the salty briny juice of the shellfish some sort of magic occurs. Everything was washed down with a lovely Italian white that was cool, crisp and mineral with a lingering acidity that balanced the buttery mussels quite perfectly.

I’ve only been here two days and I have yet to meet a meal I did not like. Pancakes for breakfast every morning too… I really could just stay… more soon.