Tagged: critics
Chicken Feet & Steph Domet
Chicken feet. My two Newfoundland dogs love them, and they are wonderful snacks for them-lots of glucosamine, great for big dog joints. Every time I pull some out of the freezer, I climb aboard the same train of thought. Sometimes these trains run to strange stations. When I see chicken feet, I think of how wasteful we can be with food and how we (and by “we”, I’m referring mainly to Canadians and Americans) say “Ew” and gag at the sight of such unappealing fare, yet how many countries put us to shame by using all parts of the animal, even the not so pretty ones.
Chicken feet remind me of Jamaica, where chicken foot soup is enjoyed with relish. And thinking of Jamaican food means that the lovely Ferguson sisters come to mind. Early in my time as food critic with the Coast, I went to investigate a tiny, hole in the wall restaurant on Windmill Road named Sisters from the Caribbean (“Sisters” being the Fergusons), and it was here that I sampled my first Jamaican fare–curried goat, meat pie, red beans and rice, real jerk chicken. I ended up doing a feature piece on the business, not a critical review; it was my first interview piece.
And this is where Stephanie Domet comes in. I was lucky enough to have her as my first editor. Through her feedback, suggestions, explanations, gentle cajoling, insistence on rewrites, I credit her with bringing out the best in my writing, and my voice. And in this particular piece, she demonstrated a few key points that would help its cohesion and flow, and they were pointers that I remembered, as I did much of her advice, ever after. (Clearly, she has not reviewed this particular blog entry)
Then the train pulls back into the station and I know that every time I pull out a chicken foot, I’ll take this trip again.
back to the blog
So the problem with taking off so much blog time is that all kinds of things happen, and then you don’t know where to start…
Since I last posted, Mix lost Ray Bear and closed after hobbling along a few more painful weeks, and idiotic comments about Bear and fine dining (or “dinning”, as one feisty blogger wrote) abounded.
I did the photo shoot for my soup book with the photographically gifted Scott Munn, and I’m even more exciting about the release next spring.
I had a fabulous evening with a couple of friends, during which I finally opened up a bottle of very, very old balsamic vinegar I got in Italy. Bellisimo!
Knives, my knives, how I’ve neglected them…now, thanks to a local knife sharpening fanatic, they are sharp and happy.
And although I’ve always been diplomatic with regards to other food critics, some recent goings-on have led me to wonder about the state of restaurant reviewing in Halifax.
What the hell has happened to Food Network Canada? How many shows about warring bakers can there be?
And what to do when Fabulous Fishcakes becomes Sustainable and Scrumptious Fishcakes?
More to come on these and other foods for thought in the days ahead.
critic on the critics thursdays
Where to get ice cream is the foodie feature in the Coast. I already have a spot so I turn to HeraldSpurr, who trumpets the goodness of the Lower Deck. I haven’t been back to the Lower Deck since I almost died from being trapped on the stickiness of the bathroom floors, after spending a raucous evening shouting about some Privateers and being the last of.
Spurr mentions the homemade blueberry grunt and writes “which further proved my theory that you can throw around terms like cobbler, crisp, brown Betty and grunt without fear of correction”. Be afraid Bill! I’m going to put the fear of the cobbler into ya!
There is indeed a difference in all of these things:
brown betty–fruit pudding topped with bread crumbs
cobbler–fruit pudding topped with biscuit dough
grunt–stewed fruit topped with biscuit dough
crisp–baked fruit topped with oatmeal/brown sugar mixture
It’s really all in the topping. Here in Atlantic Canada, we tend to use cobbler/grunt interchangeably; except for the technicality of how the fruit is prepared, they are practically the same thing. Brown betties are American creations, rarely seen in these parts in it’s true form.
Crisp is, well, crispy on top. The brown sugar/butter/oatmeal mixture that tops the fruit is almost like a struesel topping–crisp (well, d’uh).
My sister used to make the best apple crisp ever, until she tried to make it for her (then new) boyfriend and it was not so best. He’s a straight shooter and made no effort to hide his feelings about it. They’re still together but alas, the apple crisp magic is gone.
If anyone has a fabulous apple crisp recipe they’d like to share, I’d love to hear it!
critic on the critics thursdays
HeraldSpurr reviews a golf club restaurant–c’mon Bill, how many of your readers will eat there? You’re not getting lazy are you? Whilst over at the Coast, Craig Pinhey writes about Canada’s antiquated border booze laws that restrict consumer choice and put us at the whim of the NSLC.
Which kind of fits right in with Halifax, in general. I live here because I must, but as I get older and crankier, I have less and less patience with the small town mentality that’s so rampant (especially in the mayoral office, currently).
I moved here from Newfoundland years ago; all starry eyed and full of excitement about moving to a “mainland city”. After all, the closer you are to Toronto, the more progressive and advanced the city, right? And there was nowhere more east than NL, so surely moving anywhere to the west would bring one closer to a more cosmopolitan culture, right?
Yeah, not so much. When I moved here, you couldn’t shop on Sunday–or on Monday, Tuesday and Saturday nights (unless you headed over the bridge to Dartmouth). No beer in the corner stores, and good luck finding an open gas station on Sunday. More confusing was the inability to get both a beer and a mixed drink at most drinking establishments, and the early hour at which everything downtown closed.
But one area in which Halifax has managed to excel has been in the fantastic culinary culture. Nothing small town about the array of restaurants and the global tastes the city offers; we do all right for a city this size. Without thinking too hard, I can come up with Indian, Iranian, Italian (the “I’s” have it). South Asia is well represented with Thai, Vietnamese, Korean, Filipino, Japanese and of course Chinese. Greek, Mexican, Turkish. Ethiopian. And so it goes.
So while the liquor regulations are archaic, at least we have freedom of food!
critic on the critics thursdays-part deux
This week, CoastHill does the requisite summer roundup of street food with Bud the Spud starring, and HeraldSpurr goes Vietnamese with Indochine Bahn mi. Meh. (crickets chirping here). Although Spurr does go on the offensive and cuts off the typical response that comes with any ethnic resto review–somebody will write in to let you know that the restaurant cannot possibly be as good as the real they ate when they went to its culinary homeland.
I always wanted to answer by using words of wisdom from an old Norwegian chef I once knew. He said “Don’t forget there are just as many truckstops in Europe as there is in Canada”. His point? That just because it’s authentic, doesn’t mean it’s good. I’ve had poorly cooked pasta in Milan, and a horrible baguette in Paris. Just sayin’.
critic on the critics thursdays-last week
I missed posting last week but got a few interesting questions so I’m going to revisit.
CoastBuote hit the Humani T cafe, with mixed results. I find it interesting that it appears from the article that she only made one trip. I never wrote anything negative unless I had visited a place at least twice, because I believe that anyone can have a bad day. On the other hand, it speaks to the importance of consistency to an eatery–you never do know who’s eating what you’re making.
Unless, apparently, you are HeraldSpurr. He revisited Cocoa Pesto Bistro in Windsor, again. Which brings me to a reader comment. Spurr is a features writer for the Herald, and didn’t start as the food critic, and so is not always going to be anonymous. In the years that I reviewed, I was only made twice, to my knowledge, and both were because former coworkers turned out to be my servers. So how does this affect the reviewer’s experience? Well, to be sure, the service will probably be more attentive, and anything in the kitchen prepared a la minute might even be better. My philosophy was to ensure that I ordered something that involved pre-preparation. Something that had to be made well before dinner service (for example, a slow braised dish) so that there was no way for the kitchen to dress it up just for me. And I very rarely reviewed places where I knew the chef really well, and certainly not more than once. But all critics have their own styles, and in a town as small as Halifax (indeed, a province as small as NS) it’s hard to be completely incognito.
critic on the critics thursdays
CoastBuote likes the Bicycle Thief (who wouldn’t?) and HeraldSpurr visits Two if By Sea for some croissant love and a truck with something different to offer–soup.
Soup’s on the Move was wedged between Farmer Clem’s and Irving on the Bedford Highway, but has moved over to Dartmouth for the summer.
And speaking of soup, this miserable achy-bone creaky-joint weather just begs for soup. Comforting, liquid love by the spoonful.
One of my favourite soups is a roast garlic and potato puree. Filling, warming, and relatively healthy. And easy.
Put a head of garlic on a small pan and drizzle with olive oil. Roast in oven until soft. While the garlic’s roasting, boil 4 or 5 potatos–Yukon Golds are nice. Drain, but save the potato water. Squeeze the garlic cloves–the roasted, buttery garlic will come out easily. Use a potato masher and mash potatoes and garlic together. Add a little of the potato water until it gets to the consistency that you like your soup. Season with salt and pepper. Yum!
