The contest is open to anyone with a recipe featuring Rickard’s Red or White.  (I’m assuming that means anyone who can be in Toronto on the 28th, since I don’t think they are paying airfare.)

To enter:

1. Email your best beer grilling recipe featuring Rickard’s Red or White to grill@rickards.ca
2. In your email submission, include:
   • a photo of your creation
   • a 1-2 sentence description
   • a name for your recipe, using “Rickard’s” in the title
3. The deadline to get your recipe in is Friday August 22nd!

It’s that simple to become one of 3 finalists I’ll be judging in the cook-off in Yonge-Dundas Square on August 28th. I’ll be judging alongside Phil Nyman of Phil’s Original BBQ who has whipped up a video with some secrets of grilling with Rickard’s.

Oh, and the winner will be walking away with a prize pack including a new Napoleon Gourmet Grill.  So it looks like the only thing better than judging this, would be competing in it.

As you may have heard, turns out that Julia Child was a spy! Most notably known for introducing French cuisine and cooking techniques to the the US she was recruited by the CIA at the age of 28. Check out the story on CBC.ca for more details but she worked as a research assistant and clerk before working on shark repellent to prevent sharks from accidentally detonating underwater mines.

I have to preface this with a short confessional. I’ve got this growing interest in culinary exploration but in typical Vancouverite fashion I jump at every opportunity to spend time in the sun and this last weekend I had the best of intentions of diving into a few new lessons and a meal or two, but got coaxed outside for some sun and patio fun. I do, however, pledge here and now in front of our readers that I will make a more significant effort to combine flour with butter, and pan fry garlic and onions on a regular basis.

With this guilt hanging over my head I passed on the Daily Show and started in on the Sauces lesson over at Rouxbe. First impressions: WHOA! I could sit down and digest the first lesson one in one sitting and retain all the information but there’s more of everything in the second lesson. More videos, more drill-downs, more tests and more things to practice. Based on the first lesson I thought I would be able to fire through the 24 lessons reasonably quickly but there’s a lot more info here than I thought.

Roux and Bechamels are under my belt with good marks but still need to try them in the kitchen. I’ve also been making loads of greek salad (good knife practice!) Next up I need to find something to make with a Roux. Suggestions?

Also trying to expand my culinary tools. Anyone have a “20 things you MUST own” list? Otherwise I can go blow my line of credit buying new Kegerator.

It’s not that I don’t LIKE vegetarians—I just don’t understand how they can live without bacon! So, the other day when I heard some TV host on the Food Network mention his monthly bacon delivery, I dropped my knife (luckily missing my thumb this time) and listened for details. It seems the California-based website The Grateful Palate—which for some reason I always read as Grateful PLATE—has a Bacon of the Month Club that delivers a different artisan bacon to your doorstep every month for the low low price of $150/year. Plus you get recipes and a free bacon t-shirt!

Though maybe technically a cookbook, it’s not really. The Album celebrates the 5th anniversary of Au Pied de Cochon and chronicles life at the restaurant over a one year period. It features numerous stories, hundreds of photos and dozens of illustrations (that sure look Steadman-esque) and cartoons. Oh, and a foreword by Anthony Bourdain. I found this quote about the book:

Upon reading the innocuous-sounding Beans and Meatballs recipe that starts “using a saw, cut the top off the piglet skulls to remove the brains” and ends “decorate the dish with the fried ears,” I knew this book was truly special.

My wife will hate it, and the fact it’s going to take up another slot in her bookshelf.

I’ve mentioned Rockin’ Ronnie Shewchuck here before. He’s one of the original local competitive bbq gurus, and author of two, dare I say, defacto, books on bbq: Barbeque Secrets and Planking Secrets. He’s also been basically missing from the scene for over a year, until now. Just now, mere days leading up to the Canadian National BBQ Championships in Whistler, BC (Yes, of course I’m going), I received an email from Ron announcing his return to the circuit at this year’s competion, but also a new cookbook featuring recipies from both books plus a whole bunch of new ones.

Called Barbeque Secrets Deluxe, seems like it should maybe be called, The Barbeque Secrets Bible. Would be even more fitting in the religious south, bbq’s birthplace. You can follow along with Ron’s progress on the book and new recipies on his blog, Barbeque Secrets. And that’s not all! Ron’s been busy creating a line of sauces. I’m a huge fan of House of Q’s sauces, so am anxious to try Ronnie & Denzel’s line. I’ll pick some up in Whistler if he’s selling them out of the Butt Shredder’s tent. I’ll let you know how they compare, and report back on Whistler next week.

I’ve recently become increasingly aware of how disingenuous “new” restaurants can be, many of which seem to be responses to the latest trend (as if charcuterie and wine bars are an original idea). I guess I like old school better: authentic cuisine passionately created by folks who spend more time considering the ingredients and service than funky lighting, posh furniture or squeeze-bottle plating. I recently discovered a fantastic example of this in a restaurant called Delfina in San Francisco’s Mission district.

This hip neighborhood Italian trattoria and pizzeria is the kind of spot where the room, while quite nice, isn’t overly ordained and the tables and chairs are rather humble—in fact, a simple bench runs the length of one wall. One can barely hear the music over the din of excited diners chatting away and the clatter of dishes and shouts from the kitchen. This is not a pretentious room at all, but that’s sort of my point here. Restaurants should be a comfortable environment where you go to experience the joys of discovery and rapture of eating lovingly prepared food. Delfina does not disappoint.

I ate at Delfina twice during my recent business trip to the Bay Area, and both times selected from the primarily Italian menu almost randomly without disappointment. On the first night I started with grilled  calamari which came atop a plate of warm white bean salad with salty olives—the BEST calamari I’ve ever eaten—followed by wild salmon cooked medium-rare inside a fig leaf with tarragon caper butter and a glass of earthy Italian red (their wine list is terrific). Even the rustic bread—made on site of course—was special, served with hand-whipped butter sprinkled with delicate crystals of salt. This was a meal to contemplate as I enjoyed a warm summer evening walk through back streets on my way back to the hotel. I awoke thinking about that calamari the next morning.

During the PSFK conference on my second day, there was a panel discussion with local professionals about what made the Bay Area so unique where one of the panelist claimed that a local restaurant named Delfina was “the best restaurant on Earth”. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. So, later that day, my friend Lauren and I called the restaurant and convinced them to sneak us in without a reservation—and they did! Even that flexibility demonstrates the terrific attitude they have toward customers. I ordered the cured anchovies “nostrano”, which were so fresh and light with surprising lemon zing, followed by a perfectly-cooked hanger steak and French fries (I’ll never know how they managed to get it so hot without overcooking a piece of meat so narrow). For dessert they gladly customized the chocolate-smothered profiteroles, swapping the espresso gelato for something caffeine-free. One word: awesome.

I’ve not read a single review for this restaurant and don’t really know anything beyond that which I experienced in my two visits, but this is clearly a place run by foodies who are passionate about creating a comfortable environment and serving soulful food like an Italian grandmother would make—not the latest restaurant trends. It just works. It works so well, that even though they’re polite (and unpretentious) enough to put salt and pepper shakers on the tables, I doubt anyone ever uses them. Why would they? And if they change nothing, I’ll bet they will be around long enough for me to visit them again for years to come on future trips to the city by the bay.

Sorry for the lack of photos of the restaurant or my meal. I was simply so disctracted by the food that I forgot to take any—both times. But there are plenty of photos on the web, and I did get a tattoo as an expression of my loyalty to one of my new favourite restaurants (it’s a stick on of course).

Thanks to Lessley Anderson from Chow.com for referring me to this amazing spot. Delfina is a genuine trattoria in the grand old tradition, not just another “new” restaurant riding the latest fad or hiding its mediocre menu or service behind a fancy room or trendy gimmicks. I’m not sure if it’s “the best restaurant on Earth”, but for me “Delfina” will always mean “delightful”.

Delfina is located at 3621 18th Street (near Guerrera) in San Francisco; 415-552-4055, www.delfinasf.com

After a few years away from school and in the real world I’m diving back into the educational environment but being the web guy that I am, sitting in class just wasn’t my style. Rouxbe has recently launched their own online culinary school in partnership with The Northwest Culinary Academy of Vancouver and invited me to share my experiences as I work through the program.

Not being as informed as many around these parts, I’d imagine that I’m pretty close to their ideal candidate. After living seven years as a student, and then a few more as a prototypical bachelor, my cooking skills hover somewhere between ordering in Chinese and pizza, but in recent months I’ve been courted by my kitchen and have been stumbling my way through new recipes (Szechuan green beans are one thing that I can tackle with confidence!).

My stumbling blocks always seem to be a lack of experience interpreting the recipes and the ongoing challenge of cooking for one (Bolognese for 12 anyone?) With this in mind Rouxbe aims to be more then just a video recipe site and I’m looking forward to freeing myself from requiring recipes for every meal, although will no doubt be tempted by the ones on the site.

So far I’m two quizes in (just nailed the second cutting one with an almost perfect 19 / 20) and so far I have to say that I’m pretty impressed. The videos are well produced and easy to watch (not too long) although I find myself missing a Full Screen option. While I’m going to attempt focusing on the content, I can’t help but notice that a lot of effort has been put into the User Experience and the content always seems to be where it should be when I want it (a tip of the hat to the designers at Rouxbe for this!)

More to come, but the first few hours on the site have sold me. It’s dinner time, now I just gotta figure out what I can cook to work on my knife skills. 10 lbs of caramelized onions anyone?

As someone who has been through basic French cooking training, I can tell you it’s an invaluable addition to your culinary knowledge. Of course, the hands-on, in-person approach is not easily matched by online or other methods of learning, but it seems Rouxbe, our favourite online video recipe site, is breaking new ground in this area.

Rouxbe has a terrific aesthetic, great recipes accessible to the novice and the expert (you can drill right down to the text recipe right away, or learn about the techniques and ingredients involved and see how it’s done if you need the help).

From knife skills to sauces and beyond, now you can get that culinary education you’ve been meaning to get to all these years, and do it on your own time.  The Rouxbe Cooking School is a fully integrated experience that mirrors an actual culinary academy, complete with up-close instructional video, “edible exercises,” progress reporting, evaluation quizzes, and chef and community support. The instruction is a fraction of the cost of a program at a traditional culinary institute and takes a quarter of the time to complete, allowing busy home cooks to have their cake and eat it too.

The school uses a two-prong approach that is unparalleled in the online cooking world. It pairs excellent “how-to” content, which teaches skills and techniques necessary to drive cooking success, with unique “why-to” content, which helps students really understand cooking and frees them from following recipes. The Rouxbe Cooking School doesn’t just teach students how to cook; it aims to empower them to think for themselves in the kitchen and to create gourmet meals like a professional chef.

Initially 20 lessons have been released, which is approximately 15 percent of the total curriculum. You’ll be amazed at how your cooking will improve once you understand the ‘why’ behind the techniques and recipes and lead, not follow along. Once you have that, you can go well beyond other people’s recipes and do your own thing.

I’m planning to survey the introductory lessons to compare it to my own experiences in classes, and then keep going and pick up where I left off. I’ll report as I go along.

Apparently the rumours are true. Vikram and his wife Meeru—ever keen to save the planet with green choices—have introduced environmentally sustainable and good for you BUGS to their menu. I’ve eaten bugs before, but never as crunchy bits in a curry or as a ground component in paratha (Indian flatbread)—the first dish on the menu to feature roasted crickets!

I wonder how this will go over with Vij’s loyal followers used to their more gourmet offerings? Anyone up to go try it?

Ever wonder what type of wood to use in your bbq? Or even if it makes much difference? Chunks, chips, to soak or not? Hickory, maple, alder, mesquite?

I just came across this handy little write up by Cooks Illustrated testing the merits and differences. Apparently they were surprised by the results. Surprising though really, since mesquite is very strong compared to most fruit woods (e.g. cherry, apple…) and I always thought that was common knowledge.

The variations on flavour can be subtle for sure, but generally I tend to reserve hickory and mesquite for strong flavoured meat, cedar for salmon (and sometimes a pork roast). Actually, I love combining woods like cherry and alder, soaking some and using dry to get the smoke started faster.

A staged technique works best for longer cooking times: For instance, start with a foil pouch with some dry fine chips, have a tray with soaked chips which will kick in once the dry is done and you can even have a third stage with chips sitting in water (the water will boil off while the other chips are smoking), giving you, theoretically, hours of unattended smoke. In practice I’ve found no matter what I’m cooking, it has to be tended to anyway, so that kind of staging isn’t really necessary, and it’s a gamble since I’ve yet to really make it work in good succession.

On a gas grill, especially if you are cooking low and slow, often the temperature never rises high enough to smoke larger chunks and even chips. If you are cooking anything for 30 minutes or less, skip the soaking and use dry - add a bit more if it stops. Otherwise, use a combination of dry and soaked (even in the same pouch/box).

Also, Brian at House of Q recently pointed me in the direction of Smokinlicious woods. The most interesting is their infused dusts. Cool! I’ll be trying it soon hopefully. Happy grilling this weekend.

Just came across this great way for you Save-On-Foods points collectors to turn that lazy stockpile of points into something decent for summer: A new Cobb Cooker. Yes, just 65,000 points, or 3,000 points plus $95. Retail on these is $160, so either way, it’s a decent deal. Get cookin’.

We’ve been eating Zazubean’s chocolate lately here at the office since it’s available at our local coffee shop. Bit pricey for the daily choco-fix, but better than mass-produced chocolate bars that are merely posing as chocolate. Made with high quality dark chocolate and with ingredients like cocoa nibs, mint, chili, etc. they are interesting, and supposedly better for you than just plain old chocolate–and hey, if they remove a little guilt, what the hell. Actually, sometimes they add guilt. Like when I’m eating a Lunatic bar which is supposedly helpful for easing the negative effects of mentrasion, I think the bar shouldn’t be wasted on a guy! Yet, they are tastey and I do feel refreshed after eating one!

Seems unlikely ingredients in chocolate bars has become somewhat of a trend. Hell, I’m not complaining, this is fun experimental chocoholicism at its finest.

Anyway, came across Theo Chocolate today via dani namate’s blog. Not sure if it’s available here in Canada, but what was intriguing was their Coconut Curry Milk chocolate. Now, I’m not really a huge fan of milk chocolate unless that’s all that is left, but Coconut Curry Milk Chocolate, what’s that about? I’m compelled to find out. This is where chocolate is heading it seems, as people experiment trying to come up with unlikely pairings of flavours, and compete for the most bizarre but delicious combo. Curious. Can’t see myself becoming addicted to the flavour, I just want to try it. Definitly a novelty item, like ‘Billy Bob’ teeth. Or not? Maybe it’s a magical combination, though I think generally I’d prefer to keep my curries north of dessert.

When I get my hands on some, I’ll let you know what I think. Anyone tried this? The website lists only USA retailers.

Recently I became a father to a wonderful little girl, Lila. In the weeks and months leading up to her arrival Andrea and I spent a huge amount of time painting the house, getting rid of stuff (to make room for the 8lb baby and 80lbs of stuff they come with!).

Part of the process involved a book culling. I took the opportunity to house all my food and cooking related tomes in one place which was nice. I got rid of a few duds and discovered some ephemeral treasures such as The Official Foodie Handbook by Ann Barr and Paul Levy. The book is from 1984 and the cover is 100 percent cheeseball (I think quite literally as there’s a photo of the Parthenon or something made entirely of food). Anyway, as it turns out, the contents of the book are quite interesting. I’m still only part way through this book which is packed tightly with all manner of interesting stuff.

I thought I’d find out a bit more info and also discovered that Levy is actually credited with coining the term “Foodie”. Now that is impressive.

With Lila due within weeks, I stumbled onto a chapter titled “The Foodie Life Cycle” on page 19. I’m completely hopeful Lila doesn’t fulfill the exact path outlined, but if she has any of my genes (really hope so!), there’s a good chance she’ll alienate some classmates in the school cafeteria, eschewing sloppy joes for smoked black cod. I’m shamelessly reproducing the full text here with credit in part because I could not have delivered it better. Despite some things which are now outdated and no longer true, much is eerily accurate and now seems rather prophetic given it was penned almost 25 years ago. So dear Lila:

A second generation Foodie is as rare as a white truffle

You are about to be born, to Foodie parents. You will be that rarity in the Foodie word, someone who was born not converted. There will be more of you in the future, but at present you are an infant pioneer–a person with roughly 70 years of service to food in front of you: 51,100 major meals. They will pass all too fast.

You have made arrangements to take your first [meal] in San Francisco rather than Los Angeles, New York rather than Boston, Chicago rather than St. Louis, London rather than Manchester and Lyon rather than Paris; if you are in the eastern hemisphere you have chosen Hong Kong in preference to Manila and Tokyo to Sydney. Above all you have avoided eastern Europe.

You will spend the next four to six months at your mother’s breast, laying down a sensible nutritional foundation for, in preparation for the solid business of a lifetime. If you’ve been born in America, your parents will have no problem weaning you onto a Foodie diet; but if you’ve had the bad luck to be born somewhere where Beechnut Baby Foods (sugar-free, salt-free, additive-free) are not sold, your parents will make a thorough search of the shops of North London or around the rue de Rosier in Paris, Beechnut Foods are also kosher.

After teething comes the serious task of learning to eat properly. Your parents will be vigilant about your sugar and animal fat intake, because they know that, as an adult Foodie, you will be prone to overweight; they want to give you the best possible start in the lifetime’s struggle.

Foodie parents will see that the infant Foodie gets most of his protein from inocuous sources such as chicken and fish. They are certain that the uncorrupted palate will always prefer chèvre to mousetrap and olives to sweets. However, rather than let Nanny or Granny put this to the test, your parents lug you with them as they make their annual pilgrimage to the three-star restaurants of France. Remember to be very quiet in your portable chair under the table, and your kind parents will slip you a corner of truffle. You may not be so lucky as the child whose first experience dining out was purée de pommes de terre prepared by Paul Bocuse at Collonges au Mont d’Or, but good parents will see to it that you taste your first truffle as soon as you can chew.

Your favourite sound will be the popping of corks. While your parents won’t begrudge you the odd sip of Roederer Cristal 1976, it would be better not to get tipsy the first time, lest your parents succumb to the pressure of the puritanical and cut off the supply.

The next few years will present you with problems that are almost entirely negative: how to avoid school meals; how to say no gracefully when your peers want to spend their pocket money on Big Macs; how not to give offence to other children’s mothers who offer candy and sticky buns and marshmellows at children’s parties. You will acquire cunning and guile as you spend your pocket money on avocados, smoked salmon, fresh mangoes and hand-dipped chocolates. You will have no objection to sharing these – no Foodie is mean about food – but your allowance is not big enough for you to keep the table you are being brought up to maintain.

As a Foodie teenager, you begin to know you are different. Naturally, you worry about whether you will ever be like most people your own age; but as your real friends obviously share your tastes, it is not really difficult to come out of the larder and admit to yourself and others that your condition can only be shared with a small group of similarily obsessed adults. At least you are spared the problem of confessing to your parents–they know already.

Your parents, though Foodies, may object to your training as a chef the minute you leave school, and insist on your going to university. In this case, you will probaby provide yourself with some good books by Julia Child and Anton Mosimann, make sure that your digs have adequate kitchen facilities, and neglect your lectures for the next three or four years, while you teach yourself to cook. If you go to Oxford, Cambridge or Harvard, you will be able to find a group who share your priorities and you will spend your university career around the dinner table, not the seminar table. If you are not so lucky, you can probably do a course at a good provincial university in history of art or something that will fit you for your subsequent career. History of art will be a help in suggesting ways of decorating a plate.

The are more Foodies in medicine than any other job. Until 1984, there was never a year when one or even two of the finalists in the Observer Mouton Cadet competition, the toughest of the amateur cookery competitions, was not a doctor. Law is an obvious alternative (you become a barrister by eating your Dinners), or accountancy, but the quickest and easiest route to job satisfaction is food journalism. The trouble with that is it’s pretty full up. And Foodie journalists don’t retire, they die on the job like impets.

Chefs whites wedding

When in search of a mate you make certain to concentrate on what really matters–eating out and shopping for food–and don’t squander your money and time on visits to the theatre, concerts, the cinema or bed. Plays and concerts are a problem for Foodies–do you eat before or after? You always discuss it, decide neither would be fair to the food, and skip the performance.

A Foodie’s wedding must be gastronomically memorable, and mass catering is the enemy of the good. Christenings present fewer problems–if you see that all the godparents are Foodies it will be possible for the champagne to be vintage and the caviar black.

A Foodie marriage is very often homosexual, but that doesn’t matter amongst Foodies. Being a Foodie is so much more important. Many, many Foodies spend their lives with the wrong sex. And if after thirty years of marriage or partnership you discover you are really gay, or heterosexual, you wouldn’t dream of doing anything about it. Breaking up a home is one thing, breaking up a kitchen is quite another. You don’t want to waste even a week looking for another partner who understands exactly how you like you magret de canard.

Foodie couples don’t share the cooking–there would be murder. In 80 percent of Foodie marriages, the man cooks; in the other 20, he shops. There is something of la vie bouleversée (upside-down cake) in all Foodie marriages. You can tell who dominates by who says ‘What would you like me to order, darling?’ in a restaurant.

The cook in the family gets home as early as possible and cooks for three hours. Foodies rarely have children or pets. They haven’t the time or money to spare. Food takes it all. Food is their children. That Foodies don’t want children is one reason for most Foodies having bangers-and-mash parents. They are converts–will all a convert’s zeal. You can identify that rare specimen–a Foodie child–by its agility with chopsticks (the sign used to be whether it liked avocado pears). The other children in the kindergarten dislike Foodie children because they say ‘My mummy doesn’t let me eat chocolate. We have proper food.’ The Foodie pet, if it exists, is a cat. Dogs interfere with the shopping and need walks. Fresh air adds something powerful to an appetite that Foodies can’t measure so resolve not to try again. The Foodie couple know the cat would like the chicken bones but you give them to the stock–you consider the stock’s need is greater.

Foodies don’t have mid-life crises; they have diabetes and coronaries caused by overeating. The biggest problem in a Foodies middle-age is making his visits to the fat farm frequent enough to avoid taking any more exercise than a trot to the shops. Divorce is seldom a problem with Foodies; after all both partners have something in their live to which they are mutually devoted, and to which they pay a great deal more attention than they do each other. The Foodies’ seven-year itch can easily be assuaged by the discovery of a new type of pasta; and any passion  you conceive over 40 is likely to be for a new sauce.

In Foodie marriages, there are no such things are battered wives; rather there is a question of who gets the batterie de cuisine if you were to divorce–but usually this is too tricky to allow the marriage ever to dissolve.

If you’ve been a good and generous host, you can anticipate, after the last grande bouffe, that your surviving Foodie friends and relations will see that your funeral baked meats are up to your standards. It should not be beyond the imagination of a Foodie executor to invent an all-black menu.

Love, Dad