Alsatian food in Toronto?

We are not sure how authentic this is, not having been to Alsace, but the restaurant said it's "inspired by modern Alsatian cuisine plus all things in season" which made it quite an attractive offering.  We decided to give it a try one fall evening after a trip to the Art Gallery of Ontario (it's a convenient 5 minute walk).  Alsatian food, the real thing, is known for its German flavour, Alsace being right on the border of France and Germany.  The region is also known for its gastronomy and apparently has the most starred restaurants in France.  Food tends to be heavier and richer - perfect for cooler weather.

We were told that the tarte flambee is a must try and so we did.  It was superb!  The crust was very light, almost like phyllo.  The tarte flambee (French) is one of the most famous Alsatian dishes and is called variously flammekueche in Alsatian, flammkuchen in German.  It is like a very thin crust pizza, often rectangular, covered with white cheese, sliced onions and lardon.  The one at this restaurant has bacon, onions, white cheese and gruyere.

Four of us each ordered a different dish.  The one below is Baeckeoffe - a traditional Alsatian meat casserole with beef, lamb, pork and potatoes.  It is very intensely flavoured and differentiated by the contrasting textures of the various meats.

This is the Sauerkraut (also called Choucroute) with grilled pork loin, pork belly, smoked sausage and fingerling potato.  Not being a sauerkraut or sausage fan, I didn't order this dish but tried it nevertheless.  It tasted good enough.

Scallop and braised pork belly on a bed of smoked potato puree.  Certainly a unique combination, reminding me of the two solitudes - both excellent but they don't mix!

This is a special that was not on the menu - a rabbit casserole so bland I'd forgotten what it tasted like.

But what a flaming finish!   The apple tarte flambee is a traditional Alsatian dessert and it's guaranteed to make you add stars to any review when you finish your meal with this dazzler.

The restaurant - Elle m'a dit on Baldwin St. in Toronto.

Two Pizzerias

Mr. and Mrs. A ate pizza twice within four days.

* * *

The first pizzeria was famous for its pizza Napoletana (authentic Neapolitan style pizza).  The owner-pizza maker apprenticed in Naples, and had won many pizza competitions in that Italian city with his Margherita pie, which he offered daily at his pizzeria in a limited quantity (a puzzlingly odd number of 73 per day).

Mr. and Mrs. A went there because of its reputation.  They ordered a simple lunch – an antipasto of clam and bacon bone marrow, and a Margherita pie. 

The antipasto was described as “wood fired bone marrow, clams, bacon, garlic and smoked scarmoza”.  It was easy to understand the deadly combination of salted fat (bacon) on more fat (marrow).  But how would clams and smoked cheese come into play?  The weird item called for an investigation.  

Unfortunately, it was a disappointment.  The roasted bone was at room temperature which suggested that it had been sitting around.  On top of the marrow were a few whole clams and bits of bacon amid some white chopped stuff.  The very pale clams were obviously from a can.  The mysterious chopped stuff could only be garlic and smoked cheese based on the description on the menu, though it was neither garlicky nor cheesy.  Nothing on the plate was warm even though bone marrow was not supposed to be a cold dish.  Mr. A made a note not to order weird dishes in the future.

The menu described the Margherita pizza this way: “made with dough mixed by hand using San Felice flour and proofed in Napoletana wood box, topped with crushed San Marzano tomatoes, sea salt, mozzarella fior di latte, fresh basil and extra virgin olive oil.  It was baked in a 900°F wood oven.”  That was wonderful reading.

Because they were cooked in very hot wood ovens, Italian style thin crust pizzas always had some burnt spots along the crust.  The burnt spots could be removed easily and did not affect the taste.  But the pie at this pizzeria had many burnt spots at the bottom as well, giving the whole pie a burnt taste.  The crust was also powdery in the mouth as if it had picked up a lot of excess flour before going into the oven.  The pie might be authentic Napoletana, but Mr. and Mrs. A did not like it.

 *  *  *

Three days later, Mr. and Mrs. A had dinner at another pizzeria, a place that they had visited before.  This place specialized in New York style pizza – the kind with thin flexible crust so the slices could be folded to eat for those on the go.

The small menu was full of mouth watering items.  Mr. and Mrs. A started with a stew of squids, clams, mussels, pancetta, leeks and tomatoes.  The seafood was fresh, tender and tasty.  The creamy and rich aioli on the crostini reminded them of Europe.

Mr. A believed that meatball was a barometer of the food in an Italian restaurant.  So he ordered it as their second appetizer.  The dish was simply superb.  Three tennis ball sized meatballs of pork, beef and prosciutto bathed in a bowl of tomato garlic sauce.  They were meaty, tender but not mushy, and rich in flavor.

Next came bucatini with chopped onion, garlic and pancetta, tossed in tomato sauce, olive oil, red chili pepper flakes and grated cheese.  The texture of the skinny long tubes was a little bit softer than al dente.  The dish was earthy and comforting.  Good as it was, Mr. and Mrs. A had to save room for the pizza.  They took most of the pasta home with an extra order of meatballs.

Finally there was the Acciughe pizza with Sicilian anchovies, Calabrian chiles and fresh oregano.  Mr. and Mrs. A shared one slice and enjoyed the explosion of flavor in their mouths -- it was salty (the anchovy), spicy hot (the chile pepper) and aromatic (the oregano).  By that time, they were so full that they could not eat any more.  The rest of the pizza was boxed up to go.

They did not plan to have sweets.  But the cannolo two tables away looked too good to be ignored.  Fluffy ricotta spilled out of both ends of a fried pastry dough roll and decorated with fresh pistachio.  Confectioner’s sugar was sprinkled over it like a thin layer of fresh snow.  Mr. and Mrs. A could not resist and shared one.  The gentle sweetness and lightness of the dessert was a perfect way to end the big meal.

Scallops again - but service is the key!

I was in Vancouver a few weeks ago and had a food encounter that kind of made my day.  We had gone to this restaurant as a second choice, the original destination had an hour long wait time.  We had walked 15 minutes to this one in the rain and cold and was told it could be half an hour.  After looking at the menu, we decided to stay and wait it out.  When we turned down offers from the bar, we were very graciously served with water while taking up space at the bar.  Score one.  As it turned out, a table was ready for us in 15 minutes.  Score two.

It was hard to make a decision on the menu, things that jumped out were braised lamb shank, duck breast and scallops.  After I ordered the lamb (because of the cold and the rain) and finished my first course of delicious mushroom soup, the server delivered a plate of super-sized scallops to the diner at the neighbouring table. The four jumbo scallops looked so good I couldn't resist. I took my chances and asked the server if it's too late to change my order. He thought so and I wouldn't have insisted (I should be embarrassed to even ask but I had nothing to lose).  But he very good-humouredly said he'd check with the kitchen. I was surprised when he came back and asked me what I wanted to change it to.  When I said "scallops!", he said, "Ï knew it!" and proceeded to let the kitchen know. He had obviously noticed our stares at the scallops when he brought it to the next table.  Score three!

It was worth the wait! The scallops were perfectly done, fresh and delicious!  And especially so because of the circumstances.  (Score four)  Two of my dining companions had the duck breast - also superbly prepared and the meat tender and flavourful.  (Score five)  It was one of the best dinners I've had for a while and I would say - it's in good part because of the service!

The restaurant is Crave on Main and I gave it a four star on TripAdvisor, only because one of us did stick with the lamb shank and it was a little dry.  That's one out of four, so it's less than perfect.  But the service made up for it!

Pork belly in Richmond Hill 肉夾包

We're on a roll here!  After Akujiki took us from 18th century Yangzhou, China via his Le Creuset pork belly in California to noodle shop in a Shanghai alley, I got into a frenzy over the mere talk of pork belly.  We had lunch at Delicious 好清香, a Fukien style restaurant in Richmond Hill, just north of Toronto.  It is usually my destination for Hainan chicken.  But as we were finishing, I noticed the table beside us packing up one of the signature dishes of chef Patrick Chuang - braised pork trotters 红烧元蹄.   It was too late to order one to take home for dinner - Patrick said it would take an hour to make another one but he offered me his own  肉夾包 (Pork belly bun) which would only take a few minutes.   What a treat it was!

The melt in your mouth pork belly was topped with orange day lily and cilantro in between a mildly sweet bun.  What a wonderful contrast in textures and taste!  It's authentic Fukienese flavour - and you don't have to go all the way to downtown Toronto to Momofuku (or pay the much steeper price) to taste the now trendy pork belly bun.

After lunch, I found an unbelievably lean piece of pork belly at the butcher's.  Guess what's for dinner tonight!  I plan to try Akijiki's Le Creuset pork belly without the Le Creuset pot.  Sacrilegious, I know, but worth a try...

Addendum

Pork belly made with Circulon pot - not having tasted the one made in the Le Creuset, can't really compare.  But I think next time, I'll make this with the fermented red bean paste my mom used to braise pork with.  She would brown the pork (trotter or belly) with chopped onion, add the red fermented bean paste with sugar, then braise it on the stove on low heat.  This would result in a naturally reduced sauce at the end of the 2 hour cooking.  In the dutch oven, there is very little liquid reduction.  So what do you do with the sauce?!  I'm sure Akijiki would have a creative response.

Pork Belly in Shanghai 上海辣肉絲麵館的醬汁大肉

I read online a very well written Chinese article -- [陋巷美食], which meant “Gourmet Food in an Alley” -- about a noodle shop in Shanghai and its signature pork belly.  The author’s description of the pork belly was a killer: “that piece of layered fat and lean meat was truly delicious; the fat soft but not greasy, the meat tender and not dried out; it melts in your mouth, filling it with a sweet fragrant soya flavor. 那肉真是好吃，肥瘦相間，柔而不膩，酥糯而不粉粑，帶點鮮甜的醬香，入口即化。”  I urged a friend living in that city to check it out..  (To read the article [陋巷美食] by 鄭培凱, follow this link: http://barry1.cityu.edu.hk/han3/7/6/9/0/0/0/1/www.cciv.cityu.edu.hk/website/?redirect=/cheng_literature/cn/A155.php.)

 *   *   *

Since the article mentioned only the district where the shop was located (老西門) and some description of it, but not the name or address, it took some detective work on the internet to identify the place as the “Spicy Hot Shred Pork Noodle Shop辣肉絲麵館” (what a generic name).  My friend went with his wife, ate there and reported back with some photos. 

The noodle place was on a narrow one-way street in an old Shanghai neighborhood.   Its size was about that of a parking space for a single automobile, with stoves on one side and just enough room for kitchen work.  Customers ate outside at a few tables on the sidewalk.  

My friends arrived before the lunch crowd.  The shop owner immediately recognized them as visitors and said that he would decide for them what to eat – one bowl of yellow crocker noodle soup (黄魚麵), one bowl of pork liver noodle (猪肝麵) and an order of the signature pork belly in brown sauce (醬汁大肉). 

Yellow crocker was a favorite fish in the Shanghai area.  With demand outstripping supply, large yellow crocker became scarce and expensive.  This shop stir fried lightly battered filets of fresh small crockers for the noodle soup.  It was so good that my friend’s wife finished the whole bowl by herself.  The pork liver noodle was good too.  Pork liver was sliced not too thick, and stir fried with diced bamboo shoot.  The white noodle had a slightly chewy texture as good noodle should.

The star of the meal was the pork belly.  The large piece draped across a medium sized plate.  The sauce was slightly sweet which was typical of Shanghaiese cooking.  The belly was cooked perfectly -- the fat just melted in the mouth without feeling greasy; the lean meat of the belly absorbed the fat during the cooking, and was tender and flavorful.   My friends could not stop eating until the whole piece was gone.  That was pretty amazing for two people who usually watched their diet. 

It was a big lunch.  My friends finished all three dishes.  The delicious meal came to RMB$64, which was about US$10.  They were so happy with the food that they went back for a reprise.  On their second visit, they paced themselves and packed most of the pork belly home.

Yellow crocker noodle 黄魚麵

Pork liver noodle 猪肝麵

Pork belly 醬汁大肉

Noodle shop 辣肉絲麵館

       

    

Bamboo Shoot and Fatty Pork

I was browsing a Chinese painting treatise by Jin Noon (金農, 1687-1763 A.D.), a member of the famed “Eight Eccentrics of Yangzhou” (揚州八怪), and came across this picture of a bamboo shoot painting.  What caught my eyes was not the painted object but Jin’s unique style of calligraphy (every paint stroke had a uniform width, with points at the beginning and end) and the inscribed poem about “bamboo shoots sprouted all over the hills the morning after the first Spring thunder, and the artist bought a bundle to ask an old monk to braise them with fatty pork for him.” 

Mr. Jin used bamboo shoots that were dug up that morning because those were most tender and delicate.  Japanese prize them too, calling them asahori takenoko (朝掘筍), and use them for special dishes.  Bamboo shoots and fatty pork pair well.  To Chinese, fatty pork (花豬肉) usually means pork belly.  To Japanese, it is referred to as ton-toro, or pig jowl.  

It may sound strange that Mr. Jin asked a monk to cook his bamboo shoot and fatty pork.  Legend says that an old monk in a famous temple near his home was known for the dish and he would cook it only for special people such as Mr. Jin the artist.  

*     *     *

I could not find fresh bamboo shoots in the market (it was not in season), but that did not stop me from braising pork belly.  I bought a nice piece that was tied up into a roll, and braised it in a Le Creuset enameled cast iron pot.  

Here's my cooking method: 

(1)    I prepare the braising liquid with an equal amount of Japanese soy sauce and junmai sake (純米酒, the kind not brewed with distilled alcohol).  I heat it up and dissolve some rock sugar in it.  I do not use mirin (味醂) because I cannot find naturally fermented hon-mirin; otherwise I would.  (Note: the key is to use high quality naturally fermented soy sauce that is rich and flavorful instead of salty.) 

(2)    Bring the braising liquid in the Le Creuset pot to a boil on the stove.  Add the pork belly roll and cover the pot.  There should be enough liquid to cover half way up the roll.  Add hot water if necessary. 

(3)    Put it in a convection oven at low heat (300°F) for 30 minutes.  Check the color of the rind.  It should have acquired a nice reddish brown color.  Turn the roll over.  Braise it a bit longer for the rind of the other side to pick up color.  The pork belly will be tender and the rind soft. 

(4)    For crispy skin, broil it skin side up.

*     *     *

Bamboo shoot is also good by itself.  Japanese calls it takenoko (竹の子), the young of bamboo.  When it is in season, from winter to spring depending on location, people dig up young bamboo shoots that are still below the ground surface and ship them to markets and restaurants.  Usually they are boiled with rice bran (komenuka) to get rid of their bitterness.  But asahori takenoko (朝掘筍) from premier growing areas can be served raw as takenoko sashimi, and the thin slices are tender, crispy and sweet.  Other Japanese ways to eat takenoko include tempura and takenoko gohan (seasoned bamboo shoot rice). 

*     *     *

Chinese also harvests bamboo shoots in winter and spring.  

The most memorable Chinese bamboo shoot dish I have eaten was an old-fashioned 炒雙冬 – a stir fry of winter bamboo shoots and Chinese black mushrooms in a Shanghai-style rich brown sauce.  Only the tips of the bamboo shoot were used, and they were cut into thin sections about two inches long.  Biting into these tender and crunchy pieces, my taste buds experienced the rich sauce at first.  After the sauce was gone, delicate flavor of bamboo shoot filled my mouth.  If I closed my eyes, I could visualize being alone in a spring bamboo grove.  The almost Zen experience was counter-balanced by the earthy texture and flavor of meaty black mushrooms between pieces of bamboo shoot.  When a vegetable dish is so well made, who needs fatty pork to go with it?