Homemade perogies

When I first started cooking, I was more than happy to use premade products. A few years after I started cooking though, I started becoming more interested in making things from scratch... or at the very least, with less processed base ingredients. It turned out that with a little effort, this isn't too hard when it comes to food. However, this definitely was not the case when it came to perogies.
When I told BM I wanted to make perogies from scratch, he tried to warn me it would take all afternoon, and possibly some of the evening. I scoffed, but he really wasn't kidding. We actually had to take a break during which BM cooked a "snack" meal to hold us over until the perogies were done.
All I have to say for myself is that it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The prep
Cost: $5-6 to make a whooooole lot of perogies.
You'll find everything you need at your local supermarket. In fact, you'll probably have most of what you need in your pantry/fridge already.

Cooking
Easiness: 1/5 for the inconvenience and time consuming nature of this recipe.
I sort of assumed that making perogies would be like making Chinese dumplings. I suppose the analogy is sound, but I actually haven't made dumplings since I was 6, and I don't think we ever made the wrappers from scratch. I followed this recipe, but I don't really recommend it that much. The ratios for everything were way off, even after I tried to make modifications based on the suggestions at the bottom of the page.

You'll need:
About 2 lbs of baking potatoes (don't use the recipe's 5 lbs!)
1 cup cheddar cheese
Other seasonings
Salt and pepper
4 cups of all purpose flour
1 and 1/3 c water (cold)
2 eggs, beaten

Start by peeling and cutting the potatoes into manageable chunks and boiling them until tender, about 20-30 minutes. When I did this recipe I used about 5-6 medium baking potatoes, figuring that would approximately be the 5lbs originally called for in the recipe. My estimations may have been totally wrong, but I know when I was done I had WAY more potatoes than I knew what to do with.

Once the potatoes are soft, drain and mash. I don't have a masher, so I usually overcook the potatoes a little and mash with a spoon or a fork. Stir in the cheddar cheese until melted, along with some salt and pepper to taste. I really like garlic so I threw in a tablespoon or two of garlic powder as well. You'll want to add some extra punch to your potatoes because the dough is actually quite bland and will leech a lot of flavor out of the potatoes!

For the dough, combine the flour, eggs, and cold water together until it forms a dough. I read that you should use the water from the boiled potatoes because the starch makes the dough easier to handle; I tried this, but I don't know if makes a difference. Also, the consistency of the water from the boiled potatoes was a little odd, and I wonder if it contributed to the stickiness of the dough later.

Roll the dough out on a floured surface. You want it relatively thin, but not so much that it will tear while you're filling it. I found this part especially arduous, since the dough seemed rather elastic and wouldn't roll out easily, shrinking back into itself. I ended up having to recruit BM's help with this whenever I got tired and frustrated.

Once the dough is rolled out, cut small circles out with a round container. I used a drinking glass.

Add a small spoonful of potato filling to the center of the dough and fold it over and pinch the edges shut. Be careful not to over fill them, you need enough room to seal the perogie so it doesn't burst open when you're cooking it. I found the easiest way was to do a bit of a fold (sort of like rolling the edge of the dough over itself) before pinching it to make sure they stayed shut. Repeat the rolling, circle cutting, and stuffing until all the dough is gone. It's very straight forward, it just takes FOREVER to do.

I stacked all my perogies on top of each other as I made them, but I don't recommend this since the ones on the bottom layers got sticky and the perogies started to merge together a little.

We got about 60 perogies out of it before we ran out of dough (and patience). One batch got cooked up right away, and the rest was frozen. To make sure the perogies didn't stick together, I lay them flat on a baking sheet in the freezer, and once they were individually frozen, tossed them into a Ziploc container.

I boiled the perogies until they floated (cheering when they stayed sealed shut) and then transfered them into a pan with a little melted butter and browned onions.

The Result

I think I started making perogies at around 1 or 2 PM that day, and we didn't eat until close to 10 PM. Whoever came up with this must have had a lot of time on their hands. I understand now why whenever people make perogies from scratch, it's like a social event. I can imagine that several people in the kitchen, each dedicated to a specific job in an assembly line of perogy production, could churn out many more perogies in less time than it took me. Even though this was a huge source of frustration and labor for me as one person (and a nice opportunity for an "I told you so" on BM's part), it's kind of nice to think of recipes that people can come together over, not just for the consumption, but for the creation as well.

Overall, the perogies turned out very well for my first time making them from scratch. Despite being a little low on flavor due to the blandness of the dough, the consistency and overall taste were very good, and on par with what I would buy from the frozen section of the supermarket. They also froze and reheated very well. The blandness might have been fixed if I had used the bacon recommended in the recipe.

Although cheaper than buying them at the store, I'm not convinced that the extra work involved was worth it. It was a good experience, but I'm afraid I definitely consider perogies a food better purchased than made from scratch.


Sorry for the lack of pictures. I swear I had a bunch, but my computer lied to me when it claimed that it had copied all the files over...but I only found out AFTER I deleted all the photos from the SD card. Whoops.

Banana-Cinnamon Dutch Pancakes

Long time no see, blogosphere world. Although I won't be making regular posts in the near future, I thought I would share this really simple recipe for Dutch pancakes.

Until I went to Holland recently, I had no idea that the Dutch have their own take on the all-American breakfast food. Although Dutch and American pancakes bear some similarities, they are also remarkably different. For one thing, Dutch pancakes are very rarely eaten for breakfast, as they're (surprisingly!) extremely filling, although with the way portion control works in North America though, I doubt this would stop anyone here. More often, Dutch pancakes are eaten at lunch or dinner, with two diners sharing the meal. Another departure from its American cousin is that Dutch pancakes can also be savory. In fact, pancakes stuffed or cooked with salmon, chicken, beef, ham, vegetables, cheese, etc. are just as common, if not more so, than their sweet apple, banana, chocolate counterparts.


When I was in Amsterdam, I went to the Pancake Bakery at Prinsengracht 191, which happens to be just further north along the same canal where Anne Frank House is located. The Pancake Bakery is a cozy, dim lit establishment that is busy during the day, but positively bustling at night as the crowd of locals and tourists spill out of the restaurant and down the cobbled streets by the canal. Needless to say, as much as I enjoy American pancakes from time to time, I would choose Dutch pancakes over them, hands down, every time.

This recipe is a variation of what I had while I was in Europe. It's very amenable to your own additions or experimentation, of course.

For the prep

• Cost: $3-4 dollars for two people. Maybe less.

There's not a lot you'll need to make these pancakes, which is actually part of what makes them so awesome. I was able to wake up and put these together with what I could find in a very sparsely supplied kitchen. In fact, I had intended to make regular pancakes, but there was no baking powder (among other things). There were bananas on hand, but feel free to use whatever you can find (just make sure you dice anything that will take a while to cook into small enough pieces that it will cook relatively quickly-- these pancakes don't have a long cooking time).

Cooking

Ease: 4/5

You will need:

• 1 egg per person
• Flour (approximately 1/2 c per person)
• Milk (again, approximately 1/2 c per person)
• Vanilla (optional)
• Sugar (optional)
• Banana, thinly sliced
  
• Cinnamon

Beat the egg thoroughly with a whisk. Begin to add flour to the egg mixture, about 1/4 c at a time. Mix thoroughly each time you add the flour so the batter remains smooth. You want to keep adding flour until the batter is extremely thick, but not like a ball of dough.

At this point, add your vanilla if you want to use it, and begin to add milk to the batter, 1/4 c at a time. Again, beat the mixture thoroughly each time to incorporate the liquid. Keep adding a little bit of milk at a time until the batter is about the consistency of eggnog. It will be thinner than your regular pancake batter. Make sure it is watery enough that it will spread evenly and thinly in a pan.

Add the bananas and cinnamon (to taste) to the batter and mix until combined. These pancakes aren't sweetened, and if you think that'll be bland, you can add a tablespoon of sugar at this point as well.

Heat a large, nonstick skillet on medium heat and add a little oil. Pour enough batter into the pan so that a thin even layer of batter covers the bottom. It will seem a bit like making crepes. After about a 60-90 seconds (they cook quickly, be careful!) you'll need to flip the pancake. Run the spatula around the sides to loosen the edges, the slide the spatula under and flip the entire thing with a quick wrist motion. This can take a little practice, since the pancake is large and thin, but a quick, decisive motion will get it over easily. The bottom of the pancake should be golden brown.
Cook for an additional 60-90 seconds and remove the pancake from the pan.
Repeat the cooking process with the remaining batter.
Serve with syrup and other pancake fixings. This particular pancake is awesome with Nutella (as long as you're not deathly allergic to hazelnuts... )



The Result
A Dutch pancake is kind of like a very thick crepe. The consistency is a bit of a cross between regular pancakes and crepes, although the taste is significantly egg-ier than either. Because it's thinner than a regular pancake, it's easy to think that it won't be very filling; however, don't underestimate them! Neither BM or I could finish two medium-large pancakes.
On the other hand, maybe because they're so much thinner and have relatively little flour involved, I didn't feel as bloated or stuffed as I would have with regular pancakes. The natural sweetness and the kick of the cinnamon really work with the neutral pancake base.

The Verdict
Super easy to make, it would take between 10-20 minutes from start to finish to serve two people. Every thing you need is likely to be hanging around your kitchen, it's a great idea for a last minute brunch.

• Guilt: Low. No sugar, involves fruit? What is there to feel guilty about?

• Servings: As needed. The one egg per person rule works very well for this recipe, and the rest of the measurements can be adjusted accordingly.
  

• Leftovers: Who eats pancakes for leftovers? N/A

• Taste: 4.5/5 (Oh so close to that perfect score...)

The good: Easy, quick, cheap, and super tasty. Use whatever you've got on hand.

The bad: People will constantly call them crepes.

Gnocchi in a brown butter garlic sage sauce.

The first time I had gnocchi, I thought it was the most boring food in the world. I admit that the fact that I made these gnocchi myself out of instant potato flakes may have had something to do with this (I was 18 at the time, and just learning to cook for myself). Most gnocchi recommendations I've seen are pretty bland; that is, they say you should cook the gnocchi and serve it with some tomato sauce. I've consistently been underwhelmed by gnocchi (except I LOVE saying the word because it sounds so... cute!).Recently I'd been contemplating the neatly packaged gnocchi in my supermarket and I decided to give it another try. After reading through a few recipes online, I came up with this recipe of my own. I love the bright summery colors and flavors to this traditionally heavy meal.

Prep

You can find everything in this recipe easily in your local supermarket. Gnocchi, depending on the brand and what's in it, is located both in the fresh pasta section and the dried pasta sections of the store. I don't know if it's just a placebo effect, but I liked the taste and texture of the refrigerated stuff much better than the brands that were just hanging around the shelves. A one pound package usually costs between $2-4.

• Cost: $6-7
  

Cooking

This recipe uses pretty simple ingredients. You'll need:

• 1 package of gnocchi
  
• 1 chicken breast , sliced (just under 1 lb)
• Zucchini (depending on the size of the zucchini, you may not need the whole thing)
• 1/2 cup mushrooms, sliced (about 5 mushrooms)
• 1/2 red pepper
  
• 2-4 cloves of garlic (to your taste), minced
• 2 tablespoons fresh sage leaves, chopped
• 4 tablespoons of butter
  
• Salt, pepper, red chili pepper flakes, and parmesan cheese, to taste
  

Start by boiling water to cook the gnocchi. While that's going, you can do all your chopping and mincing.

Heat a large skillet on medium heat. When it's hot, add the butter and melt it in the pan. Once the butter is melted, add the sage and garlic, and heat briefly (everything will smell pretty awesome at this point).



Then, add the chicken and cook until the chicken is no longer pink. Be sure to watch the pan and stir frequently or things will burn. I did manage to burn my stuff slightly, since I had my pan on too high of a heat. I also had some leftover chorizo from a paella I made last week so I threw that in too, just so I didn't waste it.

Once the chicken is cooked, add your vegetables and toss to coat. Season everything with some pepper and add the red chili pepper flakes if desired.



Your water should be boiling, so add the gnocchi so it will cook. Gnocchi cooks relatively quickly so you'll have to watch them; they float to the surface when they're done. Use a slotted spoon to drain the water and transfer them to your pan of vegetables and chicken.

Toss everything together to coat and heat through until the vegetables are slightly soft.


Dish up the gnocchi, and top with grated parmesan.
Annnnd you're done!

The Result


I don't like my gnocchi overly soft; I like it better when they have a slight chewy texture to them. I don't know if that's proper or not though haha. Overall, I really enjoy this dish because it's super simple to make (it takes me less than 20 minutes total to make this meal for myself; I halve the recipe and cook it twice in a week to avoid having to reheat leftovers). I have to say, I like gnocchi with a butter based sauce much more than with a tomato sauce. The garlic gives everything a flavorful punch, and the sage brings an earthy, but fresh taste to the sauce. Adding vegetables, and yes, a little protein, definitely adds some interest to the whole dish, both in flavor and texture. I think this dish would work equally well with shrimp if you didn't have chicken on hand. I'm also curious to see how it would taste with basil instead of sage, and how adding some toasted walnuts might create a textural contrast. I'm starting to see a whole new array of flavor combinations that might work well with gnocchi after all.
Do I still think gnocchi is boring? On it's own, yes. Personally, I think cooking gnocchi means having to think ahead of time how you're going to compensate for the dismal plainness of the flavor of gnocchi. It's probably also important to get a gnocchi that has a good texture potential, or else it just feels like balls of mush in your mouth. Gross.

• Servings: The full recipe should feed 2-3 people, easily, for a main course portion. For more than 2 people, consider supplementing with a salad, bread, or the promise of dessert :)
• Leftovers: I've never had good reheated gnocchi. Not recommended.
  

The good: A nice showcase for seasonal vegetables, definitely helping you get a few of your recommended fruit and veggie servings. Lots of flavor, and super easy to make. Pretty inexpensive.

The bad: The butter sauce! So guilt inducing. Be sure not to add too much butter, it takes surprisingly little to give everything a good coating. But, a little indulgence once in a while is ok, right? Also, I don't have much use for my left over sage... anyone have some good recipe ideas? Also, no leftovers :(

So, this is the first blog post I've managed to finish since I've moved to my new apartment! I've been having some motivational issues to write. The new kitchen is pretty great though, and being so close to the farmer's market is really inspiring me to cook and think about trying new ingredients and recipes (as lame as that sounds).
That said, hopefully I can finish up some of my other posts to share, but look forward to a new travel blog post soon :)!

Beijing, Beijing

When I create a mental image of Beijing, it is one that it is on the cusp of the old and the new.

As I'm sure you're all well aware, Beijing hosted the 2008 Summer Olympics. In preparation for the event, the city inevitably had an incredible push towards modernization. In the first 30 minutes of riding the tour bus on that cloudy Monday afternoon, I thought to myself, "This feels like any other major American city center, except everyone walking along the street is Asian." In addition to the landmark "Water Cube" and "Bird's Nest" constructed for the Olympics, Beijing also boasts some impressive modern architecture, the largest railway station in Asia, and gorgeous luxury hotels.

But to say that Beijing is a modern city center would be a mistake.

What is it, that creates dissonance in the attempts to classify Beijing into a category with other major cities I may have visited in the past? Is it the pagodas that dot the skyline, the unmistakable presence of the Forbidden City at the heart of this busy metropolis? Is it the hawkers selling food in cluttered side streets at sunset, presenting neat rows of barbecued meat or candied fruits on skewers for purchase? Or is it something more subtle and insidious, like the ever present vendors pressing cheap toys and souvenirs on tourists unfortunate enough to make eye contact with them? Is it something in the voices of the beggars that dot the streets outside high traffic tourist attractions? Is it the ramshackle appearance of derelict stone buildings, falling apart at the roofs but apparently still housing families withing? Is it in the way the streets are punctuated by the presence of the green uniformed military? Sometimes it's just one or two soldiers standing at lazy attention, other times it's an entire squad marching crisply in unison down the sidewalk, demanding wordlessly that pedestrians yield and move out of their path.

Without a doubt, Beijing has its faults. There's definitely an issue with pollution, and the city is somewhat dirty. It didn't really feel safe. There are reminders all over the city of the poverty and underdevelopment still plaguing China as it tries to turn itself around. Traffic is always congested as taxi drivers, motorists, cyclists, and buses turn a 3 lane road into a 5 lane free-for-all, competing with one another to navigate the concrete arteries and filling the air with the sound of angry honking.

But, also without a doubt, Beijing is beautiful. The cherry trees that line the road were beginning to bloom the week we were there (late, due to an unseasonably cold spring), sending brilliant splashes of scarlet and pale pinks around the urban landscape. The temples and pagodas speak of centuries of history, culture, and tradition that it is difficult not to be moved by. Despite the fact that this is, without a doubt, a bustling center for business and modernization, there is an organic feel to the city that isn't entirely unpleasant.




Hold on! Isn't this supposed to be a food blog?!

Unfortunately, I can't speak as much to the food as I'd like to. The flight between Hong Kong and Beijing found me with some kind of stomach bug (and, for the record, I have to say Air China is completely out of their minds for providing air sickness bags that are sealed at the top prior to use). I was ill for the better part of 4 out of the 5 days we were in Beijing and ended up eating very sparringly (and having to be careful with what I wanted to venture to test my already rebelling stomach with). Also unfortunately, because we were with a tour group, we ended up eating wherever they took us, which was not always traditional Beijing style food. Furthermore, since I was in a tour, we ate in a group and this resulted in me not taking pictures of most of the food.

Compared to Hong Kong, I would say that overall, food in Beijing is cooked with more oil, and more salt. The beer is ridiculously weak. I was happy to try the peking duck while there, but was disappointed by the leanness of the duck and the thickness of the pancake wrapping. Maybe I've become too accustomed to the way peking duck tastes here in Canada. There seems to be a fondness for fatty pork, and a predisposition towards vegetables, fish, and chicken. Street vendors are much more common in Beijing than Hong Kong, selling everything from grilled corn and roasted sweet potatoes, to skewered meats and candied sour fruit. Several booths boasted octopus tentacles, ready to be grilled to order. We were warned, however, that being unused to the local bacteria, we would likely become ill if we ate from many of these vendors.

On the last night we were in Beijing, my parents and I went out on our own to try a local restaurant along what I swear was being nicknamed "White Person Street". I have no idea why it's called that, although the street itself is beautiful with it's hanging red lanterns. There was not a white person to be seen, at least when we were there.



The restaurant we chose was recommended by someone at the hotel we were staying at, and had an outdoor wood pit roasting sweet potatoes, sending their aroma wafting throughout the entrance corridor. Although still greasy, I have to say this was the best meal I had in Beijing (and not just because I was no longer sick, finally). We tried a few dishes we couldn't get back at home, including this "bacon" wrapped in pancake, a lamb dish, and a spicy chicken stew.





The food was quite good, though the dessert was nothing to write home about. Other tables were ordering pots of crayfish, whole roasted ducks (with the carcass wrapped for the customer to to take home and make soup with), and steamed fish.

Some tours are good, and you'll be lucky when they bring you to some reasonably good places to eat. But, it's always best to look for a tour that allows you one or two meals for you to explore the city on your own and be responsible for your own meal. You may have to pay for your own grub, but that's the best way to discover what the local appetite has to offer.

I'm relieved to have finished this blog; I've been working on it since getting back home two weeks ago. It was a lot harder for me to conceptualize Beijing over Hong Kong.

Hello, Hong Kong

Can you write about Hong Kong without romanticizing it?

When I was younger, I hated coming to Hong Kong. It was loud, smelly, and worst of all to a small child, it was foreign. When I came back this time, and it's been over 12 years since I've been back, I was told repeatedly that the only thing to do here is eat and shop. Which is kind of true.

But Hong Kong, I'm realizing, is a city of many faces. It is a city of stained and weathered high rise apartment buildings, where hundreds of people are crammed into tiny flats. People dry their clothes by hanging them by, and outside, their windows. In the center of the city, the financial district looms with it's state of the art architecture. Men in crisp business suits and women in branded high heels hurry past angular old men struggling to push a large and unweildy carts full of deliveries. The disparity here is jarring. By day, the lines of the city can seem grimy and desolate. By night, the digital landscape flickers to life in neon reds, golds, and greens.
But as a child, what I remembered the most is the smells. Walking down the street, you catch the smell of gasoline and exhaust from the trucks rumbling down the impossibly narrow alley ways, then the pungent smell from a stall selling fresh fish, displayed fresh (and still bloody) on ice. Hurrying through the subway station, there is the unmistakable smell that arises whenever a large number of people are crammed into a small space, then suddenly the sweet smell of a bakery by the escalator heading up to the street. On any given block, you can catch the sharp scent of dried medicinal herbs, a whiff of fresh cut flowers, and the heady aroma of incence from a small shrine, perhaps hidden in a small alcove just out of sight.
Hong Kong, to me, is a jigsaw puzzle; eating in Hong Kong can be much of the same experience. If you know where to look, you can find almost anything to eat here. Of course there's high end dining here, but I've found that my best experiences with food here has been in locales that I would normally label as questionable.
My dad's childhood school friend led us down an uneven concrete staircase, through a dark alley filled with rickety old booths, and into a narrow cross street. At the corner was a non descript eatery with an open kitchen and folding tables. They seat you whereever they can, so you end up sharing tables with strangers as you hurry through your meals. My dad's friend ordered us bowls of beef brisket noodles, and congee with mixed meat. By mixed meat, I mean mixed organs. I managed to try everything but the intestines which I was still too squeamish to try. It actually wasn't bad at all, and I've learned to simply do my best not to think about what I'm eating if I suspect (or in this case, know) that it's something I'd rather not be putting in my mouth. It usually works. I'll eat almost anything as long as I can't readily identify it (thus, why I couldn't eat the intestine--intestines always look like intestines, even when chopped into tiny pieces). When we left the restaurant, it was 1 PM, which is lunch time in Hong Kong. The line curled around the restaurant as people waited for seats.

Because I've been eating mostly with my extended family or family friends, I haven't had the opportunity to take a lot of pictures of my food (I have no idea how to ask my great aunt to wait while I photograph a pot of fish head stew). But I've tried duck and goose feet since being back (similar to chicken feet, mostly just skin, cartiledge, and bone--usually quite salty because of the sauce and spices). I also tried fish head (from the previously mentioned fish head stew; I didn't really want to try it, but my great aunt put it in my bowl, and I decided it didn't LOOK like fish heads, so I managed to eat it, and not be rude). I've also had a vegetarian meal at a Buddhist temple. Despite my inclination to like meat, it wasn't bad. Tasted like a lot of chili sauce and tofu.

The baked goods in Hong Kong are pretty great. I'm glad to be in Hong Kong and old enough now to WANT to eat Chinese style cuisine, instead of constantly insisting that I be taken to a Western style restaurant. Although, I HAVE heard that the Western style food is different here; I'd like to try it one day, but it's impossible with my family. Before I go, I'd really like to buy some "gai dan jei" (straight translation is roughly something referring to small chicken eggs) which are small cakes made in a mold that are shaped like eggs. They're pretty great, but I have to find a hawker that sells them. I saw some the other day on the street corner, but we were in a rush...If I manage to snag some, I'll take a picture and update this post.



Next post: Beijing, and Beijing food.
Sorry for any typos, I haven't had time to proof read and it's past midnight here...

Steamed Mussels

I know I've been terrible at keeping up with updates (and I apologize, because things aren't going to get better as we head into March), but I'm writing now with a confession to make.
I'm a murderer. A mass murderer, to be exact.
I can't say I've ever had to kill anything I've eaten before. My parents bought and cooked a live crab once, and I thought it was the most horrible thing ever. Before the tragic end to its life, I watched sadly as the poor crab lethargically waved its legs and blew bubbles in the kitchen sink where my parents let him pass his final hours. Since then, I've resolutely avoided cooking anything small enough that it can be bought live.
Until now. I went over to JM and RW's place and steamed mussels for the first time ever.

For the prep

• Cost: $20, or approximately $7 a person.
• Ingredients: 4/5

JM and RW are from the East Coast (a foreign land to me, I admit), and I relied on their expertise regarding mussel purchasing. Mussels are actually readily available in most supermarkets no matter where you live, although their price will likely increase the further they have to be shipped. All mussels I've come across have been shipped in from PEI. Look for mussels in your grocery's seafood section or fish counter. Make sure they're stored either on ice or in water: YOU MUST BUY YOUR MUSSELS LIVE.
I was surprised at the price of mussels, in that I thought it would cost a lot more. I went to the farmer's market where they were being sold for $2.99/lb. Since we were cooking enough so that it would be a meal for three people (one of whom can apparently consume over 2 lbs of mussels on his own), we ended up picking up 4.5 lbs.
The rest of the ingredients were very standard, and can easily be found hanging around your fridge.


Cooking

• Easiness: 4/5

I'd never cooked mussels before and JM typically boils them, but this time we agreed to try steaming them. We had a brief discussion of which method would be more humane, but decided not to dwell on things too much. I did do a quick search on the methods for steaming mussels, and kind of combined a few recipes together to come up with this.
Obviously I had more mussels than what I'm listing this recipe for; we did ours in two batches and doubled the recipe.

You'll need:

• Mussels (2-3 lbs)
  
• 1 cup white wine (I used sauvignon blanc, as I often do)
• 2-3 cloves garlic, minced (more if you like garlic)
• 1/4 medium onion, finely diced
• 3 tbsp butter/margarine, divided
• Pepper

A few things about the mussels. You might want to give them a quick rinse or scrub, especially if they've got a lot of barnacles or other unpleasant sea adornments on them. Don't store your mussels in fresh water, as it will kill them, and you do want them alive.
As you go through rinsing your unfortunate friends, check for any mussels with obviously cracked shells and discard them. Look for mussels that are not tightly closed. Pick these guys up, and see if they start to close after you touch them. JM harassed several of them with a butter knife, sticking the blunt end in and gently poking inside (GENTLY) to see if he could provoke the shell closing response. You can also set these individuals aside while you sort through the rest of your pile, and see if they close after a moment or two. Throw out any mussel that does not clam up; they're already dead.

Melt 2 tbsp of butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onions and cook until they start to become translucent. Add the garlic and cook for an additional minute or two.



Add the wine to the pot, and turn the heat up to high. As the pot heats up, add your mussels to the pot.

Make sure they're evenly distributed, and put a lid on the pot. Wait until the liquids inside are boiling, then reduce the heat to medium and simmer for approximately 5 minutes, or the mussels all open up. Unfortunately (or fortunately), JM and RW's pot has a clear glass lid so I could watch the entire affair. I felt pretty horrible watching all the shells start to open up, I admit.

When the mussels are done (i.e., all the shells are open), take them out and set them aside (we just put them into a separate bowl and put them into the oven to keep warm).

Turn the heat back up to high and simmer the sauce to reduce it. You'll notice there's a lot more liquid than you originally started out with in the pot; this is because mussels release liquid as they cook. This liquid is pretty salty, so we didn't add any salt. At this point add the pepper, or any other seasonings you'd like. Add the extra 1 tbsp of butter to thicken the sauce. Other recipes I saw suggested adding heavy cream to the sauce, but we just let it be. After another 5-10 minutes, we decided the sauce was done.

We had the meal with some french bread to round out the massacre. I mean, dish.



The Result


I tried not to look too closely at the mussels while I was eating them, because I think they look kind of creepy. But, the sauce was flavorful and garlicky, and the mussels tender, if tender is the right word to use. Maybe "juicy" is more appropriate. We pulled the mussels out of the shells with our fingers (they come out with little resistance) and dipped them into the sauce before consuming it. Not using utensils made the entire experience extremely visceral.
Mussels are chewy, and they do taste like the sea. I really enjoyed the entire experience, and thought it was a worthy result in the end. Next time I cook mussels, I'll probably do it in a similar way, although I'd like to figure out how to serve them over pasta so I don't need to gorge myself on so many mussels to get a meal. I wouldn't recommend this for someone who dislikes seafood, but it's surprisingly easy to do at home (who woulda thought?), so give it a shot!

• The guilt factor: Pretty high. The sauce has got a considerable amount of butter in it, and mussels, despite being a good source of a whole load of vitamins, are not surprisingly high in cholesterol.
  
• Servings: If all you're having is mussels, 2 lbs or a little more should be enough to feed two people, along with some bread.
• Leftover rating: n/a. I'm pretty sure mussels are something you don't want to be eating a day or two later.
• Taste: 4/5, could have used some other herbs for flavors.

Overall rating: 90%

The good: Easier than I thought to cook; great flavors, even if there IS room for improvement.

The bad: High in cholesterol; guilt of watching all those mussels die in the pot.

Adventures Down Under: Cooking Kangaroo

It all started at the meat counter.

Well, the meat counter at St. Lawrence Farmer's Market, to be honest. J and I were browsing through the various vendors, pausing to look into the display cases as we chatted. Most of the fare was pretty standard: bright red slabs of beef ribeye, rows of marinaded and stuffed chicken breasts, and pale rounds of pork tenderloin. The selection is plentiful, and a couple vendors also sell some less common offerings, namely, game meats: bison striploin, rack of venison. But one counter in particular caught our eye.

This particular butcher imports some pretty exotic stuff. Well, exotic to me at least: camel, wild boar, ostrich (though I'm aware you can buy emu from a local farm just outside Calgary). J and I looked at the meat. We looked at each other. I don't know who came up with the idea first, but the question hung in the air:

What if we tried to cook one of these meats? What if we tried to cook, say... kangaroo?

At first we balked and laughed as we walked away. But the idea was there, and suddenly it didn't seem like such an impossibility. Half an hour later, we'd agreed that we'd at least try it out, and made plans to try it out the next week. In the end, we had to wait two weeks for the next shipment to come in, and then we were off on our Australian adventure.

I did do some research online about how to cook kangaroo. Sadly, the information seems a little sparse, and what little I could find seemed somewhat non-specific. A few sites suggested I import Australian marinade. Others just vaguely indicated that I should marinade in "Australian flavors". A couple sites had some recipes, where I figured that they were treating the kangaroo the same way they would any other red meat. The only consensus was that since kangaroos are a game meat, not to cook it past medium rare (would that even be possible if you bought ground kangaroo?).

The big day arrived. We stood nervously at the counter, and a butcher with a friendly smile came to help us.

"We want to cook kangaroo," we declared. "We have no idea what we're doing."

The butcher was pretty patient with us. He asked if we'd rather cook the ground kangaroo (apparently very versatile, one of the few recipes I found was from Emeril Lagasse, and he made kangaroo pie-- by pie, he really means dumplings though) or the loin. We went with the loin, because really, who doesn't love a good, thick piece of meat? He gave us some suggestions for a marinade (apparently regular BBQ sauce would work just fine), and reminded us not to overcook it or it would get tough. Just under a pound of kangaroo meat cost us $20. J claimed it looked like liver.

In the end, this is the marinade I came up with. Measurements are approximate, since I really just poured things in randomly and hoped for the best.

1/4 cup red wine
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
2-3 tablespoons soy sauce
3 cloves of garlic, sliced
pepper
(I'd also throw in some crushed red pepper flakes next time)
1 tablespoon olive oil

After thawing the meat, we let it marinate for about 2 hours in the fridge.

Then, we stuck it into a 400 F oven for just over 20 minutes, and the meat came out slightly more rare than medium rare. The entire time we were preparing the meat, J let out some sounds of distress. I guess I sympathize. When I was trying to figure out how to cook the kangaroo, I read somewhere that kangaroos have to be left wild. Apparently they can't be farmed because herding them causes them to keel over and die from fear. That piece of knowledge seemed rather depressing.

In the end the marinade and the cooking method both worked out. We had some braised swiss chard and steamed rice for side dishes; the chard was a particularly good choice since it's earthy flavor really stood up to the taste of the kangaroo. The truth is, both J and I sat looking at our plates in silence for a long time before we worked up the nerve to try it. I was terrified it was actually going to taste like liver.

Kangaroo, it turns out, has a texture similar to most red meats. J's roommate and her boyfriend said it was more tender and juicier than beef (though that might have been more of the cooking method than the truth of kangaroo). Even though it was extremely lean, it wasn't very chewy; I also tried a small piece that had fallen off the main loin and ended up cooking faster, but that wasn't especially chewy either. The taste is definitely gamy, and somewhat musky. Oddly, it did remind me vaguely of liver, although that might have been because J kept insisting it looked like liver earlier. It definitely didn't taste like anything I've ever had before; you'll have to try it for yourself to know for sure.




Overall, it wasn't unpleasant, and I'm glad we ended up trying it. Next time, I'd like to try a marinade that compensated a little more for the gaminess of the meat. I'd eat kangaroo again, but it wouldn't be my first choice on the menu.