Maple planked pork with maple mustard glaze

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Years ago, I worked at a small daily newspaper that, like all small dailies in that neck of the woods, produced an annual supplement called “Fall Colours”. The supplement, depending on the state of the economy, could run many pages, supported by local retailers anxious to convince people that the holiday shopping season begins the minute the leaves start to change.

Too bad it was in black and white. Page after page of autumnal scenes, all in shades of gray.  The actual “fall colours” were left entirely up to our readers’ imaginations. (For our Christmas Lights special the photographers had to search for trees and houses with only white lights so they would display well in black and white.) Somehow, it worked.

I still smile at this (almost two decades later) every autumn as I drive down a country road lined with maples in shades of fiery red and yellow. Our cottage is in the heart of a county famous for its maple syrup and the woods there are engulfed in the bright yellow of the sugar maples that dominate the forest. A little treat to be thankful for before the long,  gray winter ahead.

This tender pork roast, grilled on a maple plank that gives a hint of smoke and finished with a tangy cider vinegar and mustard glaze sweetened with maple syrup, is perfect for a fall day full of leafy colour.

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Port and cinnamon cranberry sauce

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For years I have made a great big bowl of cranberry sauce with every holiday turkey, only to watch family and guests (me included) take a polite nibble and leave the rest. The bowl sits in the fridge for a week or two, untouched, before someone puts us out of its misery and tosses it out.

Not this year. Adding a little port and cinnamon to traditional cranberry sauce elevates it from a mandatory, but barely touched, condiment to an exotic attraction, equally good with roast pork or on a cheese platter. Canning the sauce means you’ll have a jar to give away or save for Christmas, if you can resist opening it earlier.

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Poulet Provençal

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It feels like capitulation to turn the furnace on so soon, despite the fact the first cold of the season has made its way into the house – a sniffling, hacking reminder to put a big pot of chicken soup on the weekend to-do list.

The soup can wait till tomorrow. Today’s task is to warm up the house without succumbing to the inevitability of central heating. There is still hope for an Indian Summer and, if luck is with us, the heat will stay off until November.

So, baking all day it is (cookies, anyone?). And, who knows, the warmth emanating from the kitchen might draw the strange teenage mole creatures from their lairs. The cookies might loosen them up enough to talk instead of grunt.  But let’s not get overly optimistic.

Later on, crank up the heat a little and make a dish that’s perfect for this cusp between the seasons – a fall braise that uses the last of the home-grown tomatoes (they become super sweet) to keep it bright and summery. The subtle herbes de Provence and a little fennel seed add  a surprising depth of flavour to the chicken.  It’s both hearty and light. Serve it with a light red wine and eat in the kitchen where it’s still warm.

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Iceberg wedge with bacon and blue cheese

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Anyone who has seen my wardrobe knows I am not qualified to pronounce on fashion or trends. In my books comfort and a classic look trumps hipster style any day. Besides, every decade or so, the fashion gods smile on me and for a few brief moments my paisley tie collection wanders back in vogue (even if the widths are bit off).

I have no idea if iceberg lettuce, like my beloved Argyle sweater, is currently welcome in public, but it’s safe in my house – even if it does look a little old-fashioned next to the arugula and rapini in the crisper drawer. I would make this simple, surprisingly hearty salad any day. You need a knife for this. The lettuce, cut thickly, gives it enough heft to be a main course. Bacon, red onions and blue cheese were made for each other but a bed of baby spinach or Romaine just doesn’t seem like enough of a base.  A substantial wedge of satisfyingly crunchy of iceberg is just the support they need.  This is a classic.

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Tomato and pancetta bruschetta with goat cheese

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A stroll through Montreal’s Jean-Talon Market this time of year can be a dangerous thing, especially if your hotel is several kilometres away and you walked. Best to bring a donkey or, a very big friend who owes you a very big favour.

Bustling, crowded and packed with gorgeous produce, Jean-Talon is, I think, the best of Montreal’s four major markets, especially when the harvest is just in.  Piles and piles of peppers, apples, squash, you name it. And tomatoes, so many beautiful tomatoes. What a rich country.

The open air market is surrounded by butchers and fish mongers,  cafés, specialty food shops and even a liquor store for a nice bottle of wine. Go early and plan to stay for lunch. Buy lunch for your friend as well. You’re going to need help later when it comes time to carry all those tomatoes.

Jean-Talon  is in the heart of Montreal’s Little Italy district. So, what better way to celebrate its bounty than by making bruschetta. This hearty version is based on a recipe by Chuck Hughes of Montreal’s Garde Manger restaurant. Part salad, part BLT, this bruschetta is a meal in itself. Creamy, tangy goat cheese, fresh basil and peppery arugula are perfect with sweet, thick slices of field-ripened beefsteak tomatoes. Some excellent, thinly sliced pancetta adds even more flavour and will prevent vegetarians from muscling in on your meal.

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Corn fritters with maple butter

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If I was lucky enough to own white pants (L won’t let me), I wouldn’t pack them away this Labour Day weekend as custom dictates. I would wear them defiantly at least until Thanksgiving, I don’t like to give up summer without a fight.

Swimming in the lake is good, as far as I’m concerned, until at least the middle of October. So what if your teeth chatter a little; it’s not like there’s anyone around to hear. The hammock is good for weeks beyond that, especially if you’re good friends with a Hudson’s Bay blanket and a decent sweater. Shorts and sandals will see me through until the first snow.

But the corn, it’s almost done. Even one of summer’s unapologetic groupies like me has to concede this. It’s such a short season.

But there’s a little good corn left (left over, in fact) and I’m determined to make every golden kernel last.

You can make these fritters with fresh corn, but I always seem to have few leftover cobs in the fridge this time of year and they work just fine. Crispy, cheesy and just a little sweet, these make a hearty breakfast with a little maple spread on top. Or, serve them as a side dish with barbecued pork. They reheat very well.

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Chez Piggy carrot salad

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This is the first recipe I have made from The Chez Piggy Cookbook, despite the fact it will always be my favourite restaurant and I have had the book for years.

Chez Piggy was opened in 1979 in a refurbished limestone stable by Zal Yanovsky and his partner Rose Richardson. Both Zal, who was the co-founder and lead guitarist for The Lovin’ Spoonful, and Rose are gone now but the Kingston institution lives on. I started going there in 1988 when, as a grateful starving student, I won a $25 gift certificate in a raffle. I used it to buy dinner for L where, my courage bolstered (and, I have always assumed, her resistance lowered) by a nice bottle of wine, I proposed.

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The best tonic

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I don’t often pitch specific products, but, if you like a nice gin and tonic on a hot summer’s day, you have to try this stuff.  It’s hard to find – I’ve been looking for Fever Tree tonic water ever since I read this comparison of tonics a few months ago. It was worth the search  (and the price – it’s expensive. I paid $3.99 for 500 ml here).  Open a bottle and your nose is hit with a botanical blast of citrus oils and bitter quinine. Pair it with your favourite gin or drink it on its own. Let me know what you think.

Braveheart (or, how I ate a giant puffball)

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(Loosely based on a true story)

One bite. One  timid, tentative bite and I wait.

I wait for the deadly neurotoxins to wreak havoc on my nervous system, throwing my body into spasms of agony before, hours later, screaming and frothing at the mouth, my internal organs surrender to the inevitable and, one by one, shut down forever.

Nothing. Another nibble.

Perhaps could it be worse than that? Maybe there won’t be spasms but just a slow, creeping paralysis. Starting in my toes and,  after many anxious days,  leaving me a motionless living corpse destined to be bed-ridden for decades, passing the time by blinking out the answers to Sudoku puzzles with my eyelids.

Why am I so fearful? After all, I have eaten street food in places as diverse as Bali (where I’m pretty sure the dishes were “washed” in the “stream” that ran along the road beside the cart), to Ramallah (take-away falafel in the back of an armoured SUV). Wild mushrooms, it seems, are my limit; a kind of fungal Rubicon I dare not cross. I am no culinary Caesar.

Until now. Another bite. Nothing. L and the 17-year-old Gaping Maw who lives in our basement are munching away happily with no ill-effect. I relax a little and eat some more. Fear begins to fade. I wonder why I waited so long. Every year in late summer giant white puffballs emerge overnight in our little patch of woods by the lake. And every year I promise myself I will pick one and cook it and eat it. But some deep-rooted, atavistic fear always prevents me.

Until now. I take a large, fearless swallow of puffball, perfectly done in tempura. It’s not really what I had expected – a little nutty, a texture more like cheese or tofu than mushroom. It’s good. Continue reading →

Nasturtium and walnut pesto

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Nasturtiums, I am told, flower best in poor soil. They attract few pests, are generally happier when completely ignored and they tend to thrive under the unwatchful eye of even the worst gardeners.

Thank, God – this is a plant for me.

And, even better, they’re delicious.

I’ve often thrown a few nasturtium leaves in a mixed-greens salad for a bit of peppery bite and the edible flowers are great as a bright, somewhat exotic garnish. But this year’s crop is so large we could eat nothing but nasturtium salad between now and Labour Day and still have some on hand. Thank goodness for Google; one little search and presto, my problems are solved. Actually, I meant to say pesto, my problems are solved.

The spicy zip of nasturtium leaves combines with the earthy meatiness of walnuts to give this pesto some real flavour heft. Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese gives it a slightly creamy texture and a little saltiness. Quality olive oil and a clove or two of garlic round out this bright green pesto nicely. Use it as a quick pasta sauce, on pizza or, in any dish in which you would normally use basil pesto. Freeze it in ice-cube trays and then bag the cubes for use through the winter.

The first time you serve it, don’t say what it is and watch the surprised looks when folks discover it’s not basil. Then tell them how you slaved away in the garden all summer just so they could enjoy tasting it. They’ll believe you.

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