Clarified butter was something that mystified me for years.  I make a cheater’s version that cuts a step or two out but will explain both below.

Before we get ahead of ourselves though – let’s define some basics like what it is and why you would want to make it.  Clarified butter is unsalted butter that you remove the milk solids and water from.  When heated it has more in common with oil than butter – meaning that you can cook it at a much higher temperature than ’normal’ butter and still get the flavor of butter with your cooking.  In order to clarify butter you simply have to separate and remove it’s components – water, whey and milk solids.  This higher cooking temperature and the fact that it will keep for months without going rancid are the main advantages of clarified butter.  It’s used in baking as well as frying – and is perfect for fish.

Here’s my process (we’ll put a summary at the bottom with how to do this for better results – although with more work:

1)  Start with  unsalted butter.  Your end result will be 75%-80% of your original (1 cup of butter will make about 3/4 cup of clarified butter).  Place it in a pan and gently melt and lightly simmer it.  The simmering will remove much of the water.  You are complete when a gentle foam forms on the top of the butter (this is the whey).  Be careful not to burn your butter – if you do it’s best to discard it as it will be bitter and burned in flavor.

2) Remove the foam from the top of the butter.  More will form as it cools – so I have a cheat.  The stainless steel bowl on the right was ni the freezer for about 30 minutes – I dump my butter in it to assist the cooling process:

3)  You can see the difference in the foam in the picture below – this was seconds after the pour:

4)  Skim away.  I place the foam into the pot I cooked the butter in:  Notice the difference in color in he butter already (thought the milk solids, which are at the bottom of the bowl are making the clarified butter look lighter than it is):

5)  Gently pour the top layer of clarified butter into a different bowl.  If you look closely at the stainless steel bowl below you’ll note that there’s a sediment at the bottom of the bowl (those are the milk solids).

6)  Clarified butter on the left and milk solids (with the final parts of clarified butter) remaining on the right:

• Spread on fresh chapati as the cook’s treat (this came from the ever-talented Chef Joshna Majaraj)
• Add to toast with salt or in pastry (our friend and talented blogger David Ort)
• Add to chowder or in mashed potatoes (the crew at Hooked)
• I also want to have a crack at making potted shrimp with it (although I’m more likely to substitute lobster for the shrimp based on an experience at Parts and Labor that blew us away).

Use the clarified butter just as you would a cooking oil (it will set-up and solidify) and you’re off to the races.

Any other favourite uses for clarified butter or the resulting bi-products out there?

I was so excited to see that cornmeal had returned to my favorite farmer’s table – an excitement that would quickly turn bittersweet.

I have become a giant convert to eating – and making – my own polenta (originally posted as Polenta – the Easiest Thing I’d Never Made).  My recipe has been tweaked since its early days (I’ll gladly share as I perfect it).  It’s now common that dehydrated products such as our own celery, onion and mushroom powders often sneak their way into the cornmeal bath that becomes a little log of heaven.  I also adore it because it is a natural pairing with our preserved tomato sauce and polenta shares my adoration with cheese.

It’s nearly perfect.

General consensus (on the blog, Facebook and in the Chef circles I have asked) is that the slower you cook it the better – I have yet to try the overnight method in a crock pot but boy I’m willing.  The general thought is that the slower it cooks, the creamier the final product (though you can make some tasty morsels in about 5 minutes if you’re in a pinch).

So I was thrilled that cornmeal was back at our market.  It generally arrives late winter – once the corn has dried and the farmer has time to grind it but before seeding and prepping for spring arrives.  Once spring hits its stride, there’s simply no time to grind last years crops.

The 1-pound bags don’t last long.  The coarsely chopped meal barely resembles the yellow powder so commonly available in bulk bins.  It is this combination of texture and the size of the chunks (the larger the piece of dehydrated food, the more flavor it retains as a smaller percentage of its contents are exposed to the air which rob it of flavor) is simply the best cornmeal I’ve ever encountered (before finding it, I didn’t know there was such a category).

I had been waiting with eager anticipation for the start of this years cornmeal.  I arrived at the market late (so late that they were packing up).  This typically is a massive disadvantage as you miss on selection – but such is the requirements of life.

“Cornmeal’s here!” I could see both excitement and concern on the face of my friend Shannon who tends the co-op, “But this is it for the year.”

My head tried to catch up as I asked the details.  The grinder had broken and time had run out for processing for the year.  We all shared the disappointment (and a bit of self-depreciating humour at the fact that we were even mildly upset at the loss of something so small in the big picture of all that is going on in the world).

There was a silver lining – being last meant that everyone had their turn.  I was able to bring home the remaining 6 pounds (which will go surprisingly fast).  I was also offered whole corn if I could just find a way to process it and imagined returning home with bushels of dried cobs to the horror of all who love me for being just that crazy.  In the interest of my own sanity (and the fact that I couldn’t think of a connection with a grinder off-hand), I passed on the offer and have decided to make the most out of ‘my’ bounty.

It’s amazing to think how scarce some of our food actually is – and how involved people, machines and nature all are in bringing it to our tables.  Buying artisan-produced product like this has it’s downsides because of circumstances like this but it’s absolutely humbling to have connections directly to a source and a great reminder of the human connection involved in every meal that crosses our plate.  It’s tough to see that in a world of mass production – and it’s an inconvenience that only makes me want to make my polenta even better than it is now – after all, there’s probably about enough for 12 meals and it will go fast!

It looks like we aren’t going to be able to solve this one on our own – we’ve been at this for 5 years and it’s looking like 5 more may be ahead – so we’re hoping for your help. Dana is positive that Marmite is Queen and I say Molasses is Master.

We’d love if you’d help us out by casting a vote below (you don’t need to sign up for anything):

Joel posted about his love for Molasses on bread today. Yes the battle of goopy black spread in our household is an ongoing thing, we’re both mildly grossed out and baffled by the others choice. I can respect why he loves it, memories of childhood and family and comfort because mine are the same…it all comes down to taste I suppose. I’ll post my homage to Marmite in the near future, but until then….this brought back some childhood memories…

(Have your vote here)

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There are very few things that Dana and I argue about.  Don’t read that as saying we agree on everything – there are lots of things we debate with passion and usually are discussing the same (or similar) thing from a different angle.  We often compliment each others views rather than clone each other.

“Often” and “usually” are words which do not apply when the discussion turns to the relative merits of Marmite (which I’ll leave for her to post about!) and Molasses.  There’s just no room in the middle to meet on this one.  I admire Marmite as a discard from the beer making process and Dana likes molasses in baking.  However there’s no mixing plates when they consist of warm toast covered in thick, dark, gooey syrup.

My Pepe was many things.  He was Acadian, an entrepreneur (owned a gas station and a local games room with the town’s first television), athlete, handyman, carpenter and many other things.  I choose to remember him in his yellow overalls piloting a small boat off the coast of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia.

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He would wake me and a few lucky cousins up early in the morning and we would head out to sea to jig for mackerel (there will be more about this later – however it can be the most exciting fishing in the world as the fish feed in a frenzy and it is not uncommon to fish with 2-4 lines with several hooks on each, all without a rod).  I’ve never been a fantastic morning person and I remember shivering in the morning cold as my Meme would prepare breakfast for us – I would often carry the small cooler to the waiting boat as we headed out in the early morning twilight.

Breakfast was generally two molasses sandwiches.  They were made with care and patience.  My Grandfather insisted that there was a “right” way to apply butter and molasses to bread and it has never failed me.  A healthy dollop of molasses must be applied and spread across fresh bread (or toast) before adding a layer of butter.  Adding butter first destroys the whole deal – the butter protects the airy pockets of the bread and the sugarcane juice never has a chance to penetrate the loafy goodness.

Molasses on bread is also a fantastic indulgence with stew, soup and other things one would dip bread into (yes, chili can count!).  The thicker the liquid, the better – water-like soups are rarely a suitable companion.  The sweet/ burnt flavor profile pulls further flavor from any broth and serves to slightly sweeten the rest of your meal.  I eat all of my dipping bread – often 4 pieces – before lifting my spoon.  It’s a very rare treat, but one I treasure.

The sweetest bit of this snack, for me, is the feeling that I have stepped into a time machine and travelled back 30 years.  I remember the yellow light of the kitchen, the tender care of my Grandmother and apparent endless knowledge of my Grandfather who appeared to be greatest fisherman in the world.  There were many cold mornings when we came home with nothing but these were offset by a fresh fish breakfast from the catch of the day.  There was one exceptional day where my cousin David, Pepe, my Father and myself (I believe that was all) pulled 400-500 pounds of mackerel (they are between .75-1.5 pounds each) from the sea.  What we couldn’t eat became bate for the local fishery in a far simpler time when the seas seemed endless.

In the end, molasses is as much about my childhood and connection to my Grandparents and roots as much as anything else.  I think, with time, we’ll find that Dana and I are closer in opinion on this “disagreement” than not – her connection to Marmite is different, yet similar.

Cast your vote here!

What are the foods that bring your generational memory screaming forward?

There was a long time in my life that I didn’t think much about vinegar – it was something that came from a bottle and I considered it to be something manufactured as opposed to crafted.  Vinegar is much closer to wine and beer than the commodity I considered it to be and, at it’s finest forms, relates closely to wine and specialty cheese.

Essence of Niagara is bottled by Niagara Vinegar Co. and was a wonderful discovery at the Good Food show.  The Essence line of products was purchased by Niagara Vinegar about 18 months ago.  The company manufactures jellies and vinegars using local area grapes from vineyards as the common inspiration in it’s products.

They sold a sample pack of 6 Wine Vinegars (for an incredible deal of $5) which includes Chardonnay Peach, Sauvignon Blanc Cucumber, Vidal Maple, Baco Noir Blueberry, Baco Noir Raspberry and Vidal Cranberry Plum.  We were fortunate to try several of the Vinegars and I was thrilled with the fresh tartness offered in these sweet elixirs.  These are surefire winners for salad dressings and other cooking – I am excited to use the maple the next time we put salmon under the broiler (the maple is from actual maple syroup).  There was an honest pride apparant in the products and the kind team who presented them to us.

I was also thrilled with many of their jellies – including this gorgeous Red Pepper Jelly:

We purchased a different jar – a wine vinegar jelly which features cranberries and cinnamon to bring a sweet bite that is calling out for the closest piece of cheese it can find.  It was interesting, original and tasty!

Essence of Niagara is essentially exactly what it claims to be.  I admire the careful attention to finding new ways to share the grapes from Niagara with the rest of us and really recomend you sample some of their wares (a list of stores can be found on their site).

I recently have run out of a small bottle of truffle oil that we had.  It was decent but not excellent – the price was right and perhaps that should have been the indicator.

We are looking to buy a new bottle and I was wondering if anyone had any recommendations?  I’d love to have them posted in the comments but if you are more comfortable, email is fine too!

Pete Seeger sung the words of today’s title and I remember singing the song long before I actually kissed a girl – or drank wine for that matter.

A few years ago I was shopping for cheese when my cheese boyfriend (more on that in a later post – lets just say that we all have our vices) informed me that he had a wonderful balsamic vinegar.  According to my cheesy BFF, it was 25 years old and it was wonderful – so sweet that you could actually drink it.  I laughed and he insisted that this was no joke and poured me a small cup. He insisted (and still does) that the test of a good balsamic is its drink-ability.

Traditional Balsamic vinegar, such as the one above was not exported from Italy until the 1980s!  Wine grapes are boiled to remove about one third of their volume before being aged in wooden barrels which age year after year.  The wine loses about 10% of its volume every year as evaporation attacks the sweet elixir.

It is estimated that it takes 70 pounds of grapes (yes that is seven-zero!) to make 1 cup of true balsamic vinegar.  The heavens drink a larger portion than we can ever imagine and leave us with their leftovers – fortunately they left the best for last.

De Nigris 25 year vinegar is a 100-year old family recipe that has been passed down from father to son.  It is fantastic on cheese (Beemsters is my favorite), strawberries, salad, vanilla ice cream or, indeed, as a small sipper all by itself.  It can be difficult to find for months on end before suddenly becoming available in abundance.  Dollar-for-dollar it is the best vinegar I have ever tried.

The price tag scared me at first – a small taste is all that is needed here.  We often use an eye dropper to put a few drops on a piece of shaved frommage before popping back a cheesy shooter.

This is a heavenly flavor and one that I encourage you to jump in and try.

“A Northern Italian tradition, Tuscan Fennel salami, or Finocchiona, is served at all Flourentine feasts.  This version is made locally by an Italian butcher in Concord, Ontario” – packaging from Leslieville Cheese on this lovely little specialty:

Herby, peppery in bites and super fragrant (almost floral).  This is a very earthy and rustic salami and tastes like it was made by hand and hard work.  There’s a certain romance that comes with the thought of a small butcher creating such an item with pride, care and family tradition.  I don’t want to know if the romance is imagined or real – I am happy to lie to myself if it is not!

Charcuterie is becoming pleasantly abundant in Toronto and this is a wonderful example.  Paired with a Cotes du Rhone (we had this with Jaboulet Paralelle 45) per the recommendation of the friendly team at Leslieville.  Their recommendation was very practical – fat and tannins do not match well.  The dry puckery feeling that tannins produce can overwhelm the pallet and interfere with the full taste of smoked and or fatty meats such as this.

A wonderful treat that is highly recommended (with or without the wine).  Watch out for the bursts of pepper – they will delight or dismay (I find them wonderful!).

What the heck happened to the cracker section of the grocery store?

Has anyone else noticed that crackers have become the new hot sauce, mustard or Vodka?  Wonderful packaging has taken over and the quality of selection has increased as well.  Price has also found new levels with these products – a smallish box of crackers can run $7 or more.  Some of the offerings are a let down – many are wonderful for a good cheese

34 degreesis a wonderful example and a great product.  These ultra-thin crisps are a wonderful pairing with cheese.  The natural is a good alternative if you are a purist – the other products are very tasty but be warned – they are flavored not accented; meaning that the Rosemary cracker tastes a lot like… Rosemary.  The flavors are wonderful; simply be aware that these products are true to their name and not the “accents” that so many companies shove at us without apology (I think of years worth of “Chive” crackers that were no closer to chive than were “Sour Cream and Onion Chips” tasting like Onion).

These are a wonderful marvel – both delicate enough to let your cheese stay the star while being crispy/crunchy enough to add a great texture and crunch.  On a shelf full of crackers north of $5, 34 degrees has a unique offering – in package and, as important, in taste.  Highly recommended for your next Saturday night.

The name is a dedication to the latitude of Sydney, Australia where this type of cracker abounds and serves as an inspiration for the company.  I’m feeling inspired – time to get some Pecorino and a box of the Cracked Pepper crisps!