Banana Doughnuts

I.

The sun wakes us early,

even before the alarm set so ambitiously last night

before the party.

As we layer on high-tech,

sweat-wicking running gear, I tell you about my dream – banana doughnuts for two.

II.

We gasp at the chill spring air and head our separate ways.

My mind wanders away as my feet plot a well-known course

River, turn, park, geese.

My body finally back to doing what I tell it with only a minimum of complaint.

III.

At the doughnut shop, out of breath,

serendipity

never-before-seen sunshine yellow

banana doughnuts.

“I’ll take two,” I tell the clerk, and “I dreamt about them” comes out

before I can filter my stream-of-consciousness tendencies.

“Wow,” she smiles, “you should tell your husband about more of your dreams.”

We laugh, but of course I already do.

IV.

I head home, slower (mustn’t jostle the doughnuts)

composing punny text messages all the way -

the holey prophesy has been cream-filled.

Saffron snickerdoodles; marriage

The weekend we got married in New York was made memorable not only by our nuptials but by the sheer volume of amazing food we ate. Our favourite (measured by the number of repeat visits we made, anyways) was Blue Bottle Coffee; we stayed across the street from one and another makes an appearance in our beautiful photos. The drip coffee was phenomenal but it was the cookies that really won me over, especially the saffron snickerdoodles.

photo by the formidably talented Kateryn Silva, obvs

We’ve been married for over six months now, and it’s becoming normal to call each other husband and wife (but I still love partner best). My finger feels weird without my ring rather than with; the thin strip of gold now boasts some new scratches besides all the ones I put there on purpose. Watching friends plan their weddings has convinced us that we made the right decision, and every time I hear this song I smile because it was stuck in my head all that day.

Those cookies were also stuck in my head one day recently when I decided to google them, and it turns out that the recipe had been printed not only in the Blue Bottle Coffee cookbook, but on one of my very favourite recipe blogs less than two weeks before we wed. So I bookmarked them, forgot, remembered, had brunch instead, and finally made them tonight, the smell of New York in October filling our apartment while I sat with my husband and enjoyed being in our tiny family.

Brunch Party

I used to think I didn’t like brunch. All those overcooked eggs, cold toast, terrible coffee. It’s at a weird time of day so I’m guaranteed to be either grumpy-starving or not really hungry. And if you just want yogurt, it’s $12.

Then I realized that the problem was just terrible restaurants (I’m looking at you, Cora’s). Brunch at its best is a way to elevate humble breakfast dishes into something dinner worthy, but after you’re pleasantly ever-so-slightly-overfull you have the afternoon to walk or bike it off. It’s a meal to languish over, to eat a full plate of desserts, to drink coffee and mimosas at the same time.

So I decided to throw a brunch party to bring all of those wonderful qualities to our kitchen (err, well, common room of our building). I made what felt like too much food (but wasn’t), Eric mixed a big jug of caesars, and we had twenty-odd lovely people come  over and share a not-quite-breakfast, not-quite-lunch meal with us.

 

How to make tortilla soup

I rarely post recipes here, because no matter how attractive or scrumptious a meal I make, it’s usually gone long before I take a photo, and even if I have, it’s just too much work to write it up afterwards.

This time, though, I’m motivated to write down last night’s dinner, because I (falsely-modest shrug goes here) pulled together this dish without a recipe. Inspired by all the delicious food we ate in Mexico, but hoping to include more veggies than, well, our entire trip combined, I was pretty pleased with how this turned out.

It’s vegetarian, easily made vegan, and gluten-free. You can easily substitute in other veggies or protein; you could even cook it to a thicker consistency and use it as a burrito filling. As much as I loved the obscene amount of pork we ate in Mexico, I didn’t miss it in this dish.

• 2 cups cooked black beans
• 1 cup cooked chickpeas (I always have a big stash of cooked beans in the freezer; canned would be fine)
• 1/2 can diced tomatoes
• 1 onion, diced
• 2 carrots, diced
• 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 1 sweet potato, 1/2″ cubes
• handful white or cremini mushrooms, sliced
• 1 red pepper, diced
• 1/2 bunch spinach, rinsed well and finely shredded
• 1 tablespoon cumin
• 1/2 tablespoon smoked paprika
• 1 ancho chile in adobo sauce, diced
• 1/2 bottle lager
• 2 cups vegetable stock or water

Heat up a big glug of olive oil over medium heat. Sauté onions until they begin to brown. Add peppers, mushrooms, and carrots and sauté until browned and the mushrooms have released their liquid (about 5 minutes). Add cumin and paprika, as well as salt and pepper. Deglaze with beer. Add sweet potato, tomatoes, ancho chile, garlic, and beans. Cover with stock or water, bring to a simmer, and let cook for about 20 minutes or until potatoes are cooked.

Meanwhile, prepare your garnishes – I used chopped avocado, jalapeno peppers, grated cheddar, sour cream, lime, and fried tortilla matchsticks. It was really only missing cilantro, but some toasted pepitas would have been nice too.

When sweet potatoes are tender, stir in spinach and cook for 2 minutes, until wilted. Serve in bowls with garnishes at the table.

 

the Ottawa Guide part 1: eating

Several times a day, Eric and I turn to each other and say, “we’re moving… to… Jordan? We’re moving to Jordan. What?” It doesn’t seem real yet; the Lonely Planet sits on our kitchen table but we still can’t seem to make out how this is different from a vacation.

What helps the idea to sink in is thinking about leaving Ottawa. Parts of that make me very happy – saying goodbye to salt caked onto the hems of my pants, -40 windchills, and curiously slow drivers who inexplicably seem to hate cyclists with a particularly righteous fervour.

And yet there are certain things I’m going to really miss, especially eating. Ottawa tends to get looked down upon from people who come from Toronto or Montreal (or who have ever been to either of those cities), but it has a vibrant food scene. In the hopes that these places might still be around and great whenever we’re back, here’s a list of my favourites. Should you ever find yourself in Canada’s frosty capital, enjoy!

Bridgehead coffee

Bridgehead is a local chain that sells fair-trade, organic coffee. But unlike a lot of places that stick an organic label on crappy coffee and feel justified in charging $2.50 for a tepid cup of sludge, their coffee is really good, especially since they opened their own local roastery last spring. Their baristas are generally quite talented, too – they know not to burn the milk, and the espresso is generally well-pulled. We spend an embarrassingly large amount of money there.

Suzy Q doughnuts

rocky road; one of the constantly revolving flavours

This place opened up last year in the old Hintonburger shack (see below), and I haven’t been able to look at a mass-market doughnut since. I’ve written about them before – pillowy mounds of dough, covered in fresh and creative glazes. My all-time favourite was the pumpkin pie, although a close second is the raspberry white chocolate.

Hintonburger

A burger joint that serves phenomenal burgers using local, free-range beef, local cheese, and amazing fries. They used to be located in the shack now occupied by Suzy Q; when a KFC closed down up the street they relocated (but kept the bucket). Go expecting a 15-minute wait at minimum; half an hour if it’s a gorgeous summer night.

Hintonburg Public House

This eclectic gastropub has adorably mismatched everything, but don’t let the awesome decor distract you from the menu. They make a mean burger, pull pints of local beer, and host fun events (including bingo and open mike nights). They used to have a duck confit hash on the brunch menu that made me want it to be groundhog day in my mouth. I’m eventually going to steal their electric blue bar (pictured).

Town

We used to live right near Town, but never got around to eating there before we moved. I finally made it there this year and have been kicking myself for missing out on years of ricotta-stuffed meatballs ever since. It’s cosy, italian-inspired small plates that are impressive without showing off.

Murray St Café

This 100% locally sourced restaurant does a ton of cool in-house charcuterie and puts together a great cheese board, but the real deal is their lunch menu. Fantastic sandwiches, spatzle mac-n-cheese, and a s’more pudding in a mason jar. I trick work colleagues into going there every time there’s a goodbye lunch to be had (a common occurrence when one works in the foreign service).

Shawarma Palace

Ask three Ottawaians where the best shawarma is, and you’ll get three different answers… but they’re all wrong, unless they say Shawarma Palace. This Lebanese joint on Rideau makes amazing shawarma and falafel that were entirely responsible for my freshman 15 20 35 (sad but true) back in first year. I don’t let myself walk by more than a few times a year.

Whalesbone / Supply and Demand / Elmdale Oyster House

Oysters at the Elmdale with fresh horseradish and a bevy of sauces

I call this the seafood trifecta of Ottawa. My understanding of the kitchen line-up composition of these restaurants is that they’re all vaguely intertwined and awesome. Whalesbone is pretty special-occasion-y (read: pricey but worth it), but Supply and Demand is incredibly reasonable and the freshly opened Elmdale is dangerously low-priced (considering the huge number of oysters I ate last weekend, I thought they had made a mistake on our bill).

Allium

This little dining room is right around the corner from us, and they have a really clever way of packing the restaurant on a Monday – tapas! The menu is always changing and everything is delicious. In the spring and summer, they grow fresh herbs out front in big planters.

Foolish Chicken

The Foolish Chicken is what Swiss Chalet dreams of being – succulent roast chicken and ribs, great fries, and amazing cheesecakes. Sometimes our whole block smells like rotisserie and the dog goes nuts (okay, so do we). They also have a lot of gluten-free options.

The Wild Oat

This veggie heaven is up in the Glebe. When I used to work beside it, I would love to grab an Americano and a maple hemp cookie (I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to reverse-engineer them for years!). They also make amazing sandwiches – my favourite is the beet and sprouts!

Coconut Lagoon

Like shawarma, everyone has an opinion on the best indian food in town. My vote goes to Coconut Lagoon, a South Indian eatery in Vanier that has the best thali around.

***

Anyways, I’m sure I’m missing some Ottawa favourites, but this town is seriously full of great food. I’d like to try and get to them all one last time before we leave, but it’s coming up so fast that we’re going to have to start eating out a lot more to squeeze them all in!

Maps

A little-known fact: my educational background is environmental studies, and I did my masters thesis on diversifying the ways that people could access food in their communities – namely gardens, wild food, and CSAs. Digital mapping was something I briefly mentioned, as a way for people to easily find neighbourhood fruit trees or community gardens, but it was outside of my main scope. Now, though, I find that I use this same technology quite frequently, especially when we’re traveling, to find food.

Rococo Café in Mexico – on the map

Planning a trip, I end up spending far too much time on restaurant review sites, Chowhound, and the Lonely Planet forums trying to determine where I’ll want to eat. Then I mark them all on a custom google map, and send it to my phone. I used an app called MapsWithMe in Mexico that would load my google map offline – it was well worth the $5.

Here’s our map from Mexico, and here’s the (far denser) one from when we went to New York. Obviously, we didn’t even scratch the surface of the NYC one, but I got a bit carried away – and now I have fodder for return trips! Of course, the New York map also has a lot of shopping marked on it.

I’ve had several friends ask for the maps when they’ve traveled, so I thought I’d post them here in case anyone ever goes to one of those places and wants one. I think I’ll make it a regular thing, because I find it a really good way to minimize eating regrettable food just because you’re in a foreign city (the disclaimer being that obviously, I ate something regrettable in Mexico).

I’m working on an Ottawa one as well, but I’m going to save that for a separate post, because I’m really going to miss the food scene here.

the eagle and the snake

I’m back from two weeks in Mexico, and I have bad news – my streak of never getting sick has been broken. Luckily, whatever virus or parasite (ugh, hopefully the former) currently residing in me had the decency to wait until the trip home to make an appearance, but I’ve spent the last 36 hours or so stumbling weakly through three airports and onto the couch, where I’ve been sipping powerade and telling myself “YOLO” (regarding street tacos, anyways).

But enough vaguely off-putting references to my intestines (and kudos to those of you still reading). Here are some observations about Mexico:

• Mexico City (or Districto Federal, or DF, as the cool kids say) is world-class. Much like New York, or Hong Kong, or Bangkok, it’s big enough and diverse enough to hold something for everyone. Want gritty Latin American working class neighbourhoods? Want cheap and efficient public transportation? Ritzy shopping malls? Fifty cent tacos? Leafy parks? It’s all there. We were expecting something … less – more akin to Ecuador, our only other Latin American experience. 

murals in the secretariat of public education building

• What’s not in the DF, for some strange reason? Many tourists. I know that there’s a lot of negative press about the dangers of traveling in Mexico, but as someone who sees every news story about a Canadian getting into trouble abroad, I can’t remember a single one in the past two years that happened in the DF. They all happen at the beach resorts.

Teotihuacan

• We ate very well. From a $100 meal with waygu beef and wine from the chef’s family’s vineyards to the aforementioned fifty cent tacos, there is a lot of good food to be found in Mexico. There’s also great coffee, which was a pleasant surprise.

quesadillas on the street

• Tequila may be more well-known, but mezcal is more delicious.

on our way to a rooftop bar for delicious mezcal cocktails and a view of the park

• There is very little in the way of hiking infrastructure (that we could find, anyways). Our planned hike up Nevado de Toluca was called off when the guide company (which we hired for the benefits of getting a drive to the mountain) didn’t show up at the prearranged 6am pickup time on Eric’s birthday. By 8am we had flagged a cab to take us to Ajusco, a smaller mountain within the city limits. The NYT makes it sound straightforward, but the lack of official trailhead (or park entrance, or maps) saw us spending the day scrambling up a washed-out scree field, only to arrive at the peak and realize that we were nowhere near what we had planned on summiting.

monarch butterflies outside of Morelia

Overall, we had a great time, although as always when traveling there were a few hiccups – the hike not panning out, a hotel much further from the centre than we’d thought in Guadalajara, and just that low-level sense of depaysment that makes travel so wonderful but sometimes so frustrating.

We came away slightly jealous of our friends who are (most likely) going on posting in Mexico this summer, and determined to get back one day to explore more of this lovely country.

PS – check out more photos on Instagram!

Iron and oysters

As a part of the posting process, we got to go for medical clearance check-ups last week, and they did blood tests. The last time I had blood taken, I was 16 and passed out. The time before that, I was six and threw up all over the nurse and my mother. This time was much more successful; I clenched my fist, took deep breaths, and watched steam rising from the building across the street while the lab tech asked me questions about my dog.

I had pretty much forgotten about it until the doctor called me a few days ago at work to tell me I was “quite anaemic.” Was I feeling tired, low in energy? she asked. Well, sure, I’ve found that I need to sleep more, but I thought that was just because I was getting older. This elicited a very exasperated noise: but you aren’t old. Touché, doctor.

I was directed to buy some iron supplements, and I’ll go see my family doctor next week to, presumably, get a list of iron-rich foods and admonishments to not drink so much coffee (an absorption inhibitor, apparently).

Iron-ically (not actually ironic, just wanted to make a terrible pun), since this diagnosis I’ve been feeling much more tired. I’ve realized that yes, I do get short of breath when exercising – I always thought that was what happened when you exercise. My nails are brittle – I was blaming the fact that I scratched off stubborn gold polish a few weeks ago. And those times I’ve been short with people? Lack of iron.

It was with my iron levels in mind that I decided to give oysters on the half shell another try (they’re higher in iron than red meat). Luckily for my red blood cells, and unluckily for my wallet, this time was akin to the seventh olive – I’m an oyster convert. Now all I need is a prescription for them.

Ducking

Whenever duck is on the menu at a restaurant, I have an inner dialogue that resembles the following:

“Oh, duck, yum! I think I’ll get the duck.”

“Meaghan, you had duck last time. Get something else.”

“But…duck!”

Despite my love of crazy canard, I had never cooked it. Partly because I never had it at home, partly because at restaurants it always seemed sort of exotic and fancy, partly because it’s just not something you see recipes for that often.

In the hopes of killing two birds with one stone, as it were, I decided to make Thomas Keller’s duck confit from Ad Hoc at Home. I deviated slightly from his recipe (by cutting it down in size and adding a metric ton of garlic to the duck fat), but otherwise stuck with him, salt rub and low cooking temperature and all.

I took a bite before I even considered taking a photo.

It. Was. Phenomenal.

It was the type of recipe that felt like cheating – I rinsed the salt rub off the legs, put them in a pan of duck fat, and shoved it in the oven. Then I hovered anxiously in the kitchen for 45 minutes, feeling like I should have been doing something. I prepped my side dishes hours in advance to occupy my hands – washing and chopping brussels sprouts, dicing an onion, measuring out cornmeal for polenta. Then I wandered away, only to realize two hours later that our house smelled fantastic, and it had somehow been my doing.

 

a helluva town

As an obnoxious teenager, I always scoffed at the way people fawned over New York. I mean, it’s just another big city full of fashion snobs and expensive tourist traps, and could you please  be a little more original?

I thought this was it…

But I started to read about other, non-sex and the city parts of New York, and realized that I might have been wrong. I mean, I was right, but I suspected that there was more than just those negatives. So we cashed in our aeroplan points, signed up on AirBNB, and built an extensive google map of restaurants we wanted to try.

future/dream home?

We just got back, and boy was I wrong. New York was wonderful. We’re plotting how we can become citizens of that city (finance guy? artist? subway dweller?). In a city so dense, there are enough people to support entire micro-industries. Smores. Lumpia. Artisan chocolate bars. Beard blow-outs. Breakfast tacos.

We walked from first breakfast to post-dinner drinks, and barely scratched the surface of Brooklyn and Manhattan. You guys, it was terrific.