Thursday's Child: View from a Gondola

In some ways, Venice is the city that every other city wants to be. When we visited Ljubljana, that town was described as "The Venice of the Balkans". Similarly, both St Petersburg and Bruges were called "The Venice of the North". They are all wonderful cities, with their own enchanting qualities. But there's something special about Venice. Whether it's the history (gateway to the Orient), the art (Titian, Tintorello, Murano's glassmakers), or the romance of those beautiful canals, there is no city like it.

One of the highlights of our visit in 2009 was a gondola ride so we could explore those beautiful canals. Our gondolier was Adriano and, like his father, he made his livelihood from helping travellers explore the place that Lord Byron called "a fairy city of the heart".

We travelled up the Grand Canal, admiring the glorious palazzos that lined its sides, including the magnificent Ca d'Oro. The Rialto Bridge, built in the late sixteenth century, remains the focal point of any trip along the Grand Canal.

But the labyrinth of canals that lead throughout the city were just as enjoyable. We saw La Fenice, Venice's famed opera house, from the gondola entrance, and many smaller bridges and paths. Although these buildings didn't have the glory of some of the regal structures along the Grand Canal, our slower pace made up for it, as Adriano regaled us with stories of the city and his life. The crumbling bricks and peeling paint on some buildings only added to their sense of mystery and antiquity.

A Portuguese Sonnet

One of the ways to survive a long, cold winter is to imagine yourself in a warmer place. And if I can't actually be there, perhaps the taste and aroma of food from a more temperate climate can take me there.

It must have been with that in mind that I picked up a Portuguese cookbook this week. Every single recipe sounded delicious, from the Green Onion mini-omelettes to the Corn Bread to the enchantingly-titled Cream From Heaven. But in the end, the recipe I had to make was Chicken with Sauteed Mushrooms and Cream Port Sauce.

As I had hoped, this recipe took me to a country I've never visited but often imagined. To Lisbon's medieval Castelo Sao Jorge, a Moorish castle whose oldest sections date back to the sixth century. To Sintra's fairy-tale estate, the Quinta da Regaleira and its gardens. To Evora, with its noble Roman Temple and gothic Cathedral. All under a blue sky and an ebullient sun.

Just imagine the inspiration I'll get when I make Cream From Heaven.

Chicken with Sauteed Mushrooms and Cream Port Sauce

(adapted from Pimentos and Piri Piri: Portuguese Comfort Cooking by Carla Azevedo)

Note: my favourite part of this recipe was the garlic, salt and thyme mixture that's rubbed on the chicken and under the skin. Next time I'll double the amount and use it all.

2 1/2 pounds chicken breasts, skin on and bones in (about 4)

2 cloves garlic, minced (first amount)

1 tsp kosher salt

6 sprigs fresh thyme, chopped and thick stems discarded

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

2 Tbsp olive oil (first amount)

2 Tbsp butter (first amount)

1 Tbsp olive oil (second amount)

1 Tbsp butter (second amount)

2 cloves garlic, minced (second amount)

1 pound mushrooms (such as oyster, shiitake and Portobello caps), thinly sliced

1/4 cup dry white wine

1/4 cup chicken broth

3 Tbsp port or brandy

2 tsp Dijon mustard

3 Tbsp whipping cream

Kosher salt and coarsely ground pepper, to taste

Rinse the chicken under cold running water and pat dry with paper towels. Combine the garlic, salt and thyme and rub into the skin, tucking some under the skin. Refrigerate for 4 hours or, if time allows, overnight. Bring the chicken to room temperature for 30 minutes before using.

Place the flour in a shallow bowl. Dredge the chicken in the flour, shaking off any excess. Discard the remaining flour.

In a heavy, large skillet over medium heat, heat 2 Tbsp olive oil and 2 Tbsp butter until the butter has melted. Cook the chicken for about 4 minutes on each side, until browned. Reserve pan juices.

Transfer the chicken to a baking sheet or ovenproof pan and bake for 13 to 15 minutes in a preheated 425 degree oven, until the chicken is tender and no longer pink inside. Transfer the chicken to a platter and keep warm.

Drain and discard all but 1 Tbsp of the pan juices from the skillet. Add 1 Tbsp oil and 1 Tbsp butter and heat over medium-high heat. When the butter has melted, add the garlic and cook for 1 to 2 minutes until softened. Add the mushrooms and cook until golden and softened, 5 to 6 minutes. Add the white wine and bring to a boil. Simmer until the wine sauce is reduced by one-third and clings to the mushrooms.

In a small bowl, combine the chicken stock, port and mustard, and whisk to combine. Pour over the mushrooms and increase the heat to medium-high. Bring to a boil and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the sauce has thickened and reduced by one-third. Add the cream, whisk to combine, and cook for 1 minute or until the sauce is well blended and heated through.

Adjust seasonings to taste, and serve chicken with the mushroom port sauce.

January

"The days are short,
The sun a spark,
Hung thin between
The dark and dark."

- from "January", by John Updike

There isn't much that's new to write about these days. It's still cold. It's still snowing.

It's still January.

It's inconceivable that we aren't at least a month further into the winter. Surely I've already done a full season's worth of shovelling, of scraping ice off my car, of walking with my shoulders up to my ears in a futile attempt to stay warm.

It's still January.

I do what I can to defy the weather. If I'm walking with my ears up to my shoulders, at least I'm still walking. I take some comfort from William Carlos Williams' tribute to the month:

"Again I reply to the triple winds
running chromatic fifths of derision
outside my window:
Play louder.
You will not succeed. I am
bound more to my sentences
the more you batter at me
to follow you.
And the wind,
as before, fingers perfectly
its derisive music."

- "January", by William Carlos Williams

Perhaps most pertinent to this cooking blog is Maurice Sendak's take on the month:

"In January it's so nice,
While slipping on the sliding ice,
To sip hot chicken soup with rice.
Sipping once, sipping twice,
Sipping chicken soup with rice."

- "Chicken Soup with Rice", by Maurice Sendak

On those days when I feel bookended between dark and dark, when I have to summon the strength to shake my fist at winter, there's nothing I want more than to make soup. You'll find my Chicken Soup with Rice recipe here; read on to find out how I defied winter this week with a bowl of Vegetable Beef Noodle Soup.

Vegetable Beef Noodle Soup
(from Canadian Living)

1 pound (450 grams) stewing beef cubes
1/4 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp salt
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
3 carrots, chopped
2 ribs celery, chopped
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 cups sodium-reduced beef broth
2 Tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp herbes de Provence
1/2 tsp red wine vinegar
1 cup large curly egg noodles
1/2 frozen peas
3 cups baby spinach

Sprinkle beef with pepper and salt. In Dutch oven or large heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat oil over medium-high heat. Cook beef, stirring occasionally, until browned, about 6 minutes. Stir in carrots, celery, onion and garlic; cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are softened, about 6 minutes.

Stir in broth, 3 cups water, tomato paste, herbes de Provence and vinegar. Bring to boil; reduce heat, partially cover and simmer, stirring occasionally until beef is tender, about 2 hours.

Stir in noodles and peas. Cook over medium heat until noodles are tender, about 5 minutes. Stir in spinach.

Thursday's Child: Kafka in Prague

Artists can often be defined by the places in which they lived, and that's one of the reasons we love finding tributes to local writers and musicians when we travel. That was never more true than when we visited Prague and followed the trail of Franz Kafka.

Kafka spent most of his life living in Prague's Jewish Quarter, but it wasn't until eighty years after his death that a statue was built in his honour. That statue, shown above, features Kafka sitting on the shoulders of a headless man. It seems an appropriate tribute because, as one of the few authors to have inspired an adjective, it truly is Kafka-esque.

"As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect."
- Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

Although he lived most of his life in the aforementioned Jewish Ghetto, he lived for two years with his sister in Golden Lane. This short street of medieval buildings is next to Prague Castle, and was named for the goldsmiths that used to live near the castle.  According to legend, Emperor Rudolf II housed his alchemists here, as they searched for the Philosopher's Stone, an elixir that would grant the drinker eternal life.

Fittingly, Kafka was inspired by his time there to write the novel The Castle.

"It was late in the evening when K. arrived. The village was deep in snow. The Castle hill was hidden, veiled in mist and darkness, nor was there even a glimmer of light to show that a castle was there. On the wooden bridge leading from the main road to the village, K. stood for a long time gazing into the illusory emptiness above him."
- Franz Kafka, The Castle

And Parable with a Skull, located on the Castle grounds, was inspired by one of Kafka's characters. The representation of a beggar on all fours, carrying a skull on its back, is rendered slightly less ghoulish when swarmed by enthusiastic young tourists.

"Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old."

-Franz Kafka

The compliment

When you get to a certain age, you realize you aren't cool anymore.

You get song titles mixed up, you mispronounce band names.

You listen to the wrong radio stations.

Sometimes you even know their school teachers on a first-name basis.

That why's you appreciate compliments any way they come. And I got one of those yesterday from a friend of my sixteen-year-old daughter. A few girls had come over to work on a project, and I was trying to stay out of their way. But when I finally came downstairs, one of them looked at me and said, approvingly, "You dress like a normal person!"

I assume that is the opposite of dressing like a mother. And I will remind my daughter of that compliment the next time she catches me listening to the wrong radio station.

Nobody minds me being a mother when I bake cookies like these. Delightfully old-fashioned, they're spicy and soft, and a perfect after-school snack for daughters, mothers, and anyone else who loves a good cookie.

By the way, I asked my daughter to proofread this post before I put it up. She suggested I change the word 'hip' (which I originally used in the first sentence) to 'cool'. Because apparently hip isn't cool anymore, at least if you're a mother.

Molasses Raisin Cookies

(adapted from Robin Hood Flour)

Ingredients

3/4 cup butter, softened

1 cup granulated sugar (first amount)

1/3 cup molasses

1 egg

1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour

2/3 cup whole wheat flour

2 tsp baking soda

2 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp ginger

1/2 tsp cloves

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup raisins

granulated sugar for rolling (second amount)

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.

Cream butter and 1 cup sugar in large mixing bowl using an electric mixer on medium speed, until light and creamy in texture. Add molasses and egg. Beat until well-blended.

Combine flours, baking soda, spices and salt in a small bowl. Gradually add to creamed mixture. Mix well and stir in raisins. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for 1 hour. Shape dough into 1" balls, and roll in sugar to coat well.

Place on prepared baking sheets. Bake in preheated oven for 10 to 12 minutes.

Soup

"Alligator soup, Alligator soup,
If I don't get some I think I'm gonna droop.
Give away my hockey stick, give away my hoop,
But don't give away my alligator soup."

- from "Alligator Pie" by Dennis Lee

It's hard to know what to make of the weather. We've gone from record low temperatures on Tuesday to a day of rain yesterday. Tomorrow they're calling for unseasonable warmth. At this point, I think the only thing we can count on is that it'll last for about twenty-four hours, after which we'll be hit with a completely different weather pattern.

The only constant for me this month has been the soup. We started the year by eating Stone Soup at our friends' cottage, an annual tradition. And since we've come home, I've made soup three times for dinner.

This corn and bacon soup is a great choice for cold weather, but don't hesitate to try it even if you're enjoying warmer weather now. It's hearty and nourishing, and there were leftovers for a delicious second meal. It may not have the literary merit of Alligator Soup, but I'd definitely give away my hockey stick for a bowl of this.

(By the way, Alligator Pie, a wonderful collection of poetry by Dennis Lee, was one of my favourite read-aloud books when the girls were small. When I told them I was posting this verse, they recited "Rattlesnake Skipping Song", another poem from the collection, in unison. If I ever post a rattlesnake recipe, I'll be sure to quote that one.)

Corn and Bacon Soup
(adapted from Canadian Living)
Note: the original recipe made a thicker, creamier chowder, so check out the original recipe if that appeals.

Ingredients

3 strips bacon, chopped
2 onions, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 potatoes
4 cups chicken broth
2 cups corn kernels
2 cups broccoli florets
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 to 1/2 cup shredded Cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese

Preparation

In large saucepan or Dutch oven, cook bacon over medium heat until crisp. Add onions and garlic; cook, stirring occasionally, until softened.

Meanwhile, peel and cube potatoes. Add to pan along with 2 cups of the chicken broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low; cover and simmer until the potatoes are tender, about 10 minutes.

Add remaining broth, corn and broccoli; simmer until broccoli is tender, about 6 minutes. Reduce heat to low and add salt to taste.

Sprinkle each serving with cheese and serve.

Thursday's Child: Anse Chastanet Beach, Saint Lucia

Sometimes I have a complex reason for choosing a travel post to write about. Maybe I've read a poem that reminds me of a trip we've taken. Maybe a country is in the news because of politics or natural disaster, and I'm thinking about the people we met there. Some months I've chosen a theme (like places of worship, or museums) and written about four experiences we've had on that theme.

The motivation in choosing today's post was pretty straightforward. I had never even heard of the phrase "polar vortex" until a week or two ago, and now my life is defined by it.  When we visited our friends on Lake Simcoe last week, the thermometer read minus thirty two degrees. Earlier this week in Toronto, the wind chill hit minus forty degrees. I wore snow pants on my five minute walk to Pilates class. It is very cold.

All I wanted to do today was remember a time when I was warm. It's that simple. So, ladies and gentleman, welcome to the beach in St. Lucia. Wish I was there now.