le sauce

fried olives--worth it, it turns out

I'd seen many a fried olive recipe and picture and wondered "what for?" Olives are perfect on their own, especially if you seek out the best importers (or are lucky to have one on your street, like me) and over time, try different types and cures, raw ones and tiny ones and cook with them and enjoy them in all their spledid glory. I'd settled on some favourites and they're at the heart of some of my go-to meals. But curiosity got the better of me and I eventually fried some. Skepticism mounted before I even started, when I was forced to buy pitted olives--the way to go with this recipe so you can pop the finished fried morsel in your mouth and enjoy the crunch properly without worry--that were fine at best but would have been passed over when I was selecting olives to enjoy plain. I tried to hedge my bets by spiking the breading with rosemary and good salt. And in the end? I understood. It's not that these fried olives are better than the best olives out there, it's that this is something different entirely and wonderul in it's own right. Fried briney things are a unique treat and pretty damn special. Only a couple of minutes of love and care gets you there too, yet your guests, if they're anything like mine, will really appreciate the care, the novelty, and above all the fried olives themselves. Delicious little things, fine, you win.

(See how this recipe fits into a lazy, Sunday, spaghetti dinner party menu!)

Fried Olives

*Rosemary leaves are hardy and similar herbs will also be easiest to crush finely between your fingers. Larger,delicate herbs like basil fry well too, but I find they them harder to crush finely. Still, use your favourites if you wish. These olives do not need to be served warm but they don't keep well. To enjoy a dry, crunchy exterior, eat/serve within 3 hours of frying them and keep them spread out in a single layer until ready to serve. If your serving leek chips too, fry the olives first since the oil after the leek chips may not be as flavour-neutral.

Peanut or vegetable oil for frying
2-4 sprigs rosemary*, washed and well-dried
75 g pitted olives, rinsed and patted dry
1/3 c flour
1 egg
1/3 c fine breadcrumbs (if using Panko, crush to a finer crumb)
Kosher salt

In a deep, heavy bottomed pot or a large skillet, pour 1 inch of oil and heat to 350-375 degrees.

Meanwhile, set up 3 wide, shallow bowls close to the stovetop. Add the flour to one, the egg to another, whisking it in the bowl with a fork, and the breadcrumbs to the last. Season the breadcrumbs with salt. Line a large plate or sheet pan with a paper towels.

Fry the rosemary sprigs in the oil and remove with a slotted spoon when the leaves start to turn golden, about 30-60 seconds. Place on paper towels to cool. When they are cool enough to handle, check that the leaves are crispy and that they shatter when folded. If not, fry for 30 seconds more, remove, cool and crush the leaves into the breadcrumbs, discarding stalks.

Coat the olives with a dusting of flour, shake off any excess and add them to the egg. Make sure to cover the olives with egg completely before transferring them to the breadcrumbs. Press the breadcrumbs onto the olives and coat them generously. 

Add the olives carefully to the hot oil--start out by adding just a few and work in smaller, safe batches if needed. Turn them gently with a slotted spoon and remove when golden. Transfer using a slotted spoon to the paper towel-lined plate or tray. Let cool at least slightly and serve.

Serves 2-4.

 

first taste: hoagies at the huxtable house

Childhood picture books, stories and TV shows that depicted food and dining made a real impression on me. Illustrations of steaming bowls of pasta or a piece of toast smothered in purple jam gave me my first taste of foods I'd yet to try, and are sometimes still the archetypes I hold food up to today. Instead of simply reminisce, I'm going to bring those dishes to life the way I imagined they'd be.

 

There's still no other TV family that I'd rather be adopted by than the Huxtables. They tried to introduce the necessary amount of drama into an episode here and there, but you knew everything would be fine because through it all Cliff and Claire were smart, in love, unfailingly successful, the house was always perfect, everyone looked great (I wish I channeled my inner Denise Huxtable more) and there was always great food. There were fridge raids when Theo's friends were over, take-out pizza when Claire wasn't looking, there was callaloo for dinner and there were feasts in the dining room for birthdays and dinner parties--and everyone dressed up for those too.

But of all things, I craved a sandwich--a big, sub-style sandwich, when Cliff sat down to a hoagie. This is a famous clip of the first meeting of the "Huxtable Men's Club" and hoagies are on the menu. Big plans but in the end, only Cliff can make the meeting (briefly) and at around the 1m 39s mark, you see him sit down to a large hoagie and soda--his signature indulgence.

This is not the episode that did it for me, however. It was actually the one in the image below where he's having his hoagie with an orange soda (his other common drink of choice was a chocolate soda! was this a yoo-hoo? don't know I've ever had a chocolate soda...) and starts to load potato chips into the sandwich. I can still remember getting so excited to see that. How daring and brilliant and over-the-top that appeared to child-me. But I also picked up on how passionate Cliff was about this sandwich and even if I didn't realize it, that's what sold the whole thing.

  (All stills above via Cosby Show Caps)

This was something so good, he didn't even sit on the couch to eat it. He settled on the floor in that sweet spot between the foot of the couch and the coffee table where you can lean back comfortably and have the food be as close as possible to your face without having to hold a plate. The optimal way to enjoy a treat, particulary "bad" and entirely yours, in front of the TV. He was right about hoagies in general, of course. A soft, submarine roll, filled with a little lettuce, drizzled with a light vinaigrette, slathered with mayo, loaded with meat (I had to get the fake stuff for this one), Provolone cheese, toppings (mine were quick pickles, sauteed peppers and onions) and finally, quintessential potato chips.

And, of course, I had some orange soda to wash it down. 

the best potato chips

I mentioned Covered Bridge in a post years ago--when I came back from a trip to New Brunswick where the potato chip maker turns out kettles of fried chips not far from where the potatoes are dug up. But after returning from a recent visit, I have to go on about them again. I love these chips so much that I'm torn between whether these or those greasy chips in waxy bags from my childhood are the best chips ever. Anywhere.

Their regular chips are perfection. They taste like perfectly fried and salted super-thin potato chips--it shouldn't be hard but that's rare right off the bat. But then they have these thick cut chips that are just slightly thicker than the ones you think you want--yet that little difference means more visible skin and, oh, what that sliver of skin does for the flavour. Think of the best skin-on french fries you've ever had. It adds a touch more earthiness and potato to the bite without crossing the line to some sort of specialty potato chip. And at first glance you might think their holiday mix has some strange mix of flavour sprinkles coating them but no--that vibrant colour comes strictly from blue, red, white and yellow potatoes! Sorry to tease you with those because though CB's chips are being carried across Canada more and more, I haven't seen these anywhere outside of their little factory yet.

And I don't have to tell why I love their packaging. Having seen it now, you're probably a fan too.

jibaritos with guava paste

Months ago I learned what a jibarito was, when I came across it on a blog. I bookmarked the recipe for this grilled cheese sandwich that uses ripe plaintain in place of bread, but I could never make it--I was missing a key ingredient. And then a few weeks ago, my aunt walked into the kitchen with it: guava paste! Her friend brought it back with her from Guyana and gifted it to my aunt, who spread the jelly on toast as you might any other. And true to her generous nature, she brought some over with me, not knowing I'd searched for it in vain for some time now.

It was fitting that we made the jibaritos together--she cooks plantain but had never had it like this. Sections of the plantain roast in the oven before being pressed flat and pan-fried like a common grilled cheese sandwich. The guava paste is just the thing--brining out a little of the sweetness in the plantain and pairing so well the cheese as fruit preserves do. Having had it now, I can tell you that any jelly would make a decent substitute for guava paste, and jibaritos are special. The texture of the plantain, dense and almost fiberous, separates it completely from grilled cheese sandwiches in my mind. Jibaritos are a whole other new, delicious thing to enjoy and to crave suddenly and fixatedly a few times a year. You're welcome.

LS baking academy: cookies & bars

It's been more than I expected it would be--for instance, I actually learned how to bake!--but the le sauce baking academy is wrapping up soon. At least it is in its current form, however, given my almost-comfortable comfort level when it comes to all things involving flour, you will definitely see baked goods from now on here at le sauce. I've learned how to make bread, the best pizza dough, light cakes, oil cakes, every kind of pastry (with success! to my surprise) and more. I'll have a round-up of the highlights for sure, and you can bet we'll be ending with a bang. For now, all I can tell you is that we're rounding out the lessons with how to make cookies, but you'll have to keep an eye out for the grand finale!

For the first cookie recipe on this site, and the first one I've ever baked, I choose one of the most the most famous. Jacques Torres' 36-hour chocolate chip cookies are reknown across the internet for two reasons: the recipe's appearance in the New York Times three years ago and because testers everywhere widely regard them as the "best". You can read the article for yourself but here's why this cookie and method are deemed superior:

• the 36-hour rest in the fridge allows the liquid (eggs in this case, which are thicker and therefore slower than water) to fully absorb into the dough, making it drier, and firmer and yeilding in a better consistency than freshly-made and baked dough...
• ...but this is really about flavour. That rest results in a cookie with deeper flavour and a darker, more caramel-y sweetness and...
• size matters, it turns out. The 6-inch cookie allows for a soft centre, a chewy but crisp edge with caramel flavour and the "ring" between where the flavours and textures combine. But as you can see above, a baking sheet can hardly contain 6 of these generously-sized cookies (I weighed mine for accuracy). They bled into each other while baking so mine were a glorious mess by the end.

Oh, and one more thing...

trip snacks

James and I are heading east soon to visit his family in New Brunswick. I miss them--can't wait to see them plus enjoy a big family meal with them and gorge on their experience their traditions again. There's also a beautiful restaurant in his home town I'm looking forward to returning to, a potato chip factory(!) that I must visit and an east-coast vice to partake in: Pizza Delight.

But before I get there, there's all the eating I have to do en route. Despite NB being a short flight from Toronto, there's still the waiting around at airports and the long drive to his family's house that I need to consider. Ok fine, the entire journey falls squarely between meal times but this is a great excuse for snacking and I'm not about to pass it up.

I'm armed with dates, nuts, seaweed packets, a spicy roasted dal snack and my favourite tea. We're making sandwiches for something more filling that lets us avoid that dreaded over-priced, underwhelming meal from a food stand or on the plane. But I'm most excited about these sticky rice packets I bought in an East-Asian grocery. They can be heated ahead of time to be eaten hot or at room temperature, and they come in their own packaging--banana leaves. They'll be a welcome treat when I get seriously hungry, even after munching through all my other snacks. You know, half an hour after I leave home.

tea time

Mid-October, already and no denying it's autumn. One is entitled (required?) to have tea and an indulgent snack in the afternoon from now until spring, right?

Favourite pairings...

black Ceylon tea + ginger cookies

reeeeally black, but not tannic, unsweeted ceylon black tea and juggary

red rooibos tea (with sugar and milk!) and spice cake

green tea and chinese egg custards

jasmine tea and thin, sweet biscuits

earl grey tea and a whole lotta steamed milk and honey

 

first taste: lyle lyle crocodile

Childhood picture books, stories and TV shows that depicted food and dining made a real impression on me. Illustrations of steaming bowls of pasta or a piece of toast smothered in purple jam gave me my first taste of foods I'd yet to try, and are sometimes still the archetypes I hold food up to today. Instead of simply reminisce, I'm going to bring those dishes to life the way I imagined they'd be.

Once upon a time, there was

                                    a crocodile named Lyle...

When I was little, I was drawn to Lyle. I may not have realized it then, but I related to him. He liked nice things, unapologetically, and appreciated a civilized meal, whether at a nice table, or in the park...or in the tub... 

* Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile and The House on East 88th Street story and illustrations by Bernard Waber

He also got into trouble once in a while--but of course that wasn't it. I loved that he appreciated luxury and style. He wasn't picky, but he did have distinct tastes. And while he eventually grew to enjoy a wider variety of foods, such as Italian ices, Lyle really had a thing for Turkish caviar. You can see how Lyle particularly liked to enjoy this treat while soaking in a warm bath.

This caviar is a little different than what Lyle is used to but I did make it with him in mind. It's a seaweed caviar and consequently, it's super-healthy. It tastes of the ocean and despite being cooked it retains a little chew as seaweed does--plus there's an added little bite from the inclusion of garlic. And what crocodile doesn't like a little bite, right?   

crisped leeks (or leek chips)

The simplest things make the biggest impression. A few weeks ago when I had friends over for drinks in the backyard, and the these crispy leeks got the most rave review. They're not much more than sliced leeks, fried (and a top secret blend of spices...kidding! sort of...), but there is a technique to adhere to. This is my aunt's brainchild, and as with everything, she approaches the preparation of these leeks with meticulous care.

They're not sliced into rounds or half moons, which would be quicker, but would result in little curls and an even bigger disparity in size from the outer to inner peels of leek. You'd end up with inconsistently fried leeks and you wouldn't have these whimsical wisps of leeks to spread out and stare at. (After visiting two major exhibits recently...one that I went to three times in as many weeks, I'm becoming a little obsessed with abstract expressionist art, and it's starting to show. I'm contemplating framing a picture of leeks. Kidding. Sort of.)

And as for that blend of spices, my aunt uses curry leaves from her plant, fried and crumbled, and red chili powder from peppers my dad dried and crushed. Those of us without these artisan items at our disposal can use store bought curry leaves and crushed chili flakes, and though I wouldn't want you to skip these ingredients, you could even season solely with salt.

My aunt invented this but I discovered its raison d'etre: to be the single best beer snack ever. Serve with cold brew and chopsticks--or don't even bother because everyone will soon move to eating them with their fingers, just like chips. 

burrata and eataly (manhattan)

At the La Verdure counter at Eataly in Mahattan, I ordered a simply delicious crostini. Grilled corn and black garlic on softened butter spread onto thick slices of bread. It was basically a 4-ingredient meal and as satisfying as 4-course one. Good crostini comes down to really few but really good toppings and it's a perfect way to highlight something special, like that caramalized corn and that black garlic, or...

...burrata. A special, and not altogether inexpensive treat, it's a fresh buffalo mozzarella pouch housing a thick cream and more of the remnant strands of mozarella that make up the pouch itself. It can be enjoyed a number of ways but I always want it the way you see pictured here.

1. Grill or lightly toast a thick, airy slice of bread, rub it lightly with a cut clove of garlic and season with salt while it's still hot. 
2. Quarter a ball of burrata lengthwise, lay a slice on top and press/smear it over the crostini with the back of your spoon. 
3. FInish with some fresh, finely sliced or baby basil leaves, a drizzle of your best extra virgin olive oil, a sprinkle of Maldon salt and the tiniest bit of freshly cracked black pepper. 
4. Eat and ascend to the heavens simultaneously.

But back to Eataly--the new Italian grocery/eatery on W23rd and 5th in Manhattan. I love Lidia Basianich and since she is a partner in Eataly, I was secretly hoping to see here there. Nope. I guess our meeting is slated for the future instead. I was impressed nonetheless. The upscale grocery aisles are filled with imported dry pastas and local, organic yogurt, with gourmet prepared foods for sale to go, and also meat, cheese, and wine bars surrounding marble counter tops at which you stand and eat the picnic-basket items you just secured. Surrounding that are three small, barely cordoned-off restaurants, one focusing on seafood, one on vegetables. Sounds chaotic but it all flows rather nicely. I ate dinner alone at the counter of La Verdure one night, met a few locals who lived on the block and popped in after a long day at the office for good food and a glass of wine, and relished my crostini.