Tag: beets

Oooh-LaLa

On July 27, 2010

I always enjoy sharing my special dining experiences online -I find the response, both here and in the real world, to be both inspiring and heartening. So I want to share the wonders of a recent visit to Restaurant Didier in Toronto. But a few caveats before we begin.

First, I am not the most dedicated fan of French food; in the past, I’ve found it too heavy, too rich, and just too filling for me. Also, it’s really hard to reproduce at home. There’s something satisfying about being able to whip up basic approximations of yummy past meals in the comfort of my own kitchen, but I’ve never been able to do that with any degree of success when it comes to French cuisine, which places it in the rarefied world of eat-once-a-year-and-don’t-eat-for-a-week-after-ness. Meh. If I like something (or someone), I want it (or him) again and again and again. (And for the record, yes, I equate food and sex; sensuality is central to each, and to the enjoyment and celebration of life. See the Sex On A Plate post.)

Personally, I like food -and restaurant experiences overall -to be approachable, easy-going, pure, and unfussy. While I appreciate the art of molecular gastronomy, I can’t get my head -or tastebuds -around it making for an all-around satisfying meal. French with touches of modern, however, is something I really love, especially if there’s a light touch. Such is the case with Chef Didier Leroy. Dish after dish of amour pur emanate from his kitchen like pearls in a waterfall. and there’s no need to feel intimidated; servers are happy to explain ingredients and method, suggest pairings, and Chef might even come out and chat when all is said and done. Bravo! The restaurant itself is located in midtown Toronto, away from the hub of the scenester-foodie carnival, where basics like service, knowledge, and attention to detail can sometimes get lost amid the buzzwords and well… the buzz. Restaurant Didier is refreshingly un-hipster-esque, but at the same time, is classy, casual, and yes, affordable.

Chef Leroy comes with credentials. He is a member of the Association Des Maitres-Cuisiniers De France and the Academic Culinaire De France. In 2007, he was awarded France’s prestigious Medal of the Chevalier de l’Ordre du Mérite Agricole, one of the country’s highest honours. Dating back to 1883, the Medal recognizes the services of individuals who have promoted French culture through their activities within the sphere of agriculture. Leroy worked in numerous Michelin-starred restaurants and has been a part of such fine establishments as Auberge Gavroche and The Fifth. Impressively, Chef Leroy has been the official Executive Chef for the French Embassy/Consulate General in Toronto since 1990. Not too shabby.

The night I went I enjoyed a prix fixe menu, which, at $50 for three courses, offered tremendous value considering a/ the quality of ingredients (everything is organic); b/ the care and respect with which those ingredients are treated; c/ the incredible degree of knowledge, service, and honesty from the RD staff. They’ll steer you to the very-best wine pairings, any yummy accompaniments, and have an impeccable sense of timing, spacing out courses appropriately, and filling wine glasses at just the right times. And, of course, you’re getting the work of a first-class chef too. Yum.

For my first course, I chose Salade de Betterace, Orange, Fromage De Chevre, a delicately-flavoured beet salad with tiny medallions of snowy goat cheese and orange segments, and topped with Ontario greens. The beets were sliced paper-thin and were tender but not floppy, the fork prongs easily impaling their moist, sweet flesh. The goat cheese was, thankfully, not fridge-cold, but just the right temperature for swirling along the beets & greens, or spreading onto the beautifully crusty baguette side with the succulent, juicy citrus fruit. I could’ve downed another plate of this luscious, jewel-like salad, really, but I was happy the first course -along with the others -were proportioned accordingly, with absolutely no weird food architecture.

My second course was Duck Confit. It did, in fact, come with a gorgeously-charred sweet potato-half tucked beneath the meat, but there was nothing sky-high about the presentation, or indeed, off-putting about it at all. Quite the opposite! Duck confit is one of those dishes I have once a year (if that), owing to its extreme caloric content. In truth, it was closer to two years since I’d had the dish, but …. goodness me, Chef’s handling erased any negative past experiences entirely. It was, quite simply, the best duck confit I’ve ever had. Moist, if amazingly un-greasy morsels of tender meat, in a beautiful, rich-but-thin sauce that encircled the plate (with a just-so tender side of greens), each bite providing a pure, real connection to the bird and to the skill that so lovingly prepared it this way. Needless to say, I am now re-considering my once-a-year-only confit stance. Any increase might entail jogging home, however -or at least skipping dessert, which, on this night, was totally, wonderfully impossible.

Dessert was Trilogie De Chocolat Valrhona -or a chocolate trilogy, which consisted of layers of moist, ebullient bittersweet darkness. Runny, solid, soft -all the textures and flavours of this special, luscious treat were nestled together in one gorgeously posh, small portion. The level of detail was truly impresssive, with a lovely, subtle presentation and again, a just-right portion. The dessert -with a full-mouth flavour of rich cocoa, but without any cloying sugary qualities -paired beautifully with the 2005 Penfolds Grange wine my companion and I were enjoying the evening of our visit, and (as before, but in reverse) I would’ve gladly downed a few plate-fulls, were it not for the salade and confit that came before.

All in all, my visit to Restaurant Didier was a wondrously delicious experience. I happened to notice on the menus that the kitchen also caters to vegans and vegetarians, and offers a Chef’s Tasting Menu for tables. Truly, something for everyone, but with a smart, stringent respect for the French culinary tradition -along with the quality of ingredients -that, in this world of over-saturated hype and wannabe-stars -is truly inspiring. I am now a confirmed French food fan, thanks to the masterful work of Chef Didier. Yes, I want to return soon. And I will.

A la prochaine!

Cool (Hot) Beets

By Catherine Kustanczy

On September 21, 2009

In food

I’m writing this from my kitchen -my place of refuge, my studio, my laboratory, all rolled in one. It’s funny how such a simple change of locale -from upstairs to down -can drastically alter the way one approaches one’s work. No wonder coffee shops are so filled with people on laptops; what is sometimes lost in personal interconnection in such circumstances is often gained in the field of inspiration and initiative (though I’d argue one is deeply connected with the other).

So, after much thought -and a joyous session in roasting beets (more below), I’ve decided to include simple recipes as part of Play Anon. Rather than watering down its content, I feel it will add to, and complement it. Food is as much a part of culture as theatre, dance, painting, sculpture, electronic art, and so on -though it is also vastly more immediate, and I feel, intimate in its nature. Food is what we share as humans. We cannot live without eating. And like all cultural things, it provides needed nourishment -not only to our bodies, but on spiritual, mental, and emotional levels.

Right now, I’m typing with hands softened by good olive oil, just used to anoint the beets which now roast in the oven. I love beets, and always have done, ever since I was a child, standing beside my mother, hands stained purple, carefully peeling, apron firmly tied. I grew up thinking there was only one way to prepare them -that is, my mother’s method: boil to death, messily peel, drown in butter. While I’m not immune to the charms of butter and salt (though now, I’m finding good quality in each harder to come by), I feel treating such a beautiful vegetable so heinously borders on the sinful. Basic rule: if the vegetable is good, it should stand on its own. Period.

So while I applaud Lucy Waverman integrating beets into various dishes to tempt the palette of any beet-hating President, I prefer my purpley root veg straight-up. Antony John understands this. I had the wonderful fortune of visiting his beautiful farm, Soiled Reputation, last month. Sitting just outside the town of Stratford, Ontario, the farm grows organic vegetables which are then used in many restaurants across the Southern end of the province. Jamie Kennedy, the activist-chef (and one of my very-favourites, for his food and his ethos), uses Soiled Reputation’s veg, including their lovely, feathery greens, filled with sweet and bitter tastes.

One of the things I brought back from my trip was a bag of beets. Though pink on the outside, they’re white on the inside. They yield a sweeter flavour than regular beets, and I am wagering, roast up deliciously.

Roasting is, incidentally, my favourite method, though I have also experimented with marinating sliced beets in good balsamic, and then barbequing, both with foil and without. But there’s something awfully comforting about the smell of roast-anything wafting through the house, particularly as temperatures drop and the season turns. With the advent of autumn, root vegetables come back to prominence at my table.

Depending on the size of the beets, you may wish to slice them (I chopped a few bigger ones in half width-wise) and i always take the top off (the part where the greens sprout), though I tend to leave the “tail” -there’s something so merry about them, even if you can’t (or won’t) eat that portion.

So you will need:

Roughly 12 beets, small, or 8 small, 2 medium, 1-2 large, all very well-scrubbed.

Leave the small beets whole; chop the medium beets in half width-wise; chop the large beets in manageable chunks.

Pour good olive oil on top -about 3-4 tsp should be enough, but use your judgment; you don’t want them swimming or dripping in it, but you want enough to lubricate the beets and the casserole dish they’re sitting snugly in, rosy cheek to pale jowl.

Sprinkle salt on top: sea, rock, red, whatever you wish.

Toss with your bare hands.

Cover with foil, loosely; pop into a pre-heated oven (400F) for about 15 minutes; check after that to see if they’re done how you like, or if you need to add more oil.

I’d leave them in another 15-20 minutes. Prick with a fork if you’re really not sure but they’ll be making little sizzley sounds to indicate they’re cooked.

And… that’s it.

Really, wasn’t that easy?

Addendum: 30ish minutes did the trick. Delicious, succulent, sweet, and rich. I said it before, I’ll say it again: beets are beautiful. Take that, Mr. Obama.