when you gonna flower
an orange tart, more curry, and the neverending winter
Will this godforsaken winter ever end? It feels like spring is a lawnmower that’s been in the shed for too long, and you keep pulling the starter cord, thinking you’ve finally got it going, and then it dies again. I was chipping ice off my windshield on Monday, watching a hailstorm on Tuesday, and walking home in my wool coat and toque at 8:30pm on Wednesday wishing I’d put on a scarf, too. I had met up with a friend who’d been wanting to try Cream Pony, and after choosing donuts we sat on the covered patio at Beere where we were not cold exactly but not warm either. The staff member who made multiple unsuccessful attempts to turn on the propane heater at our table kept lightly imploring us to just come inside, but since the removal of the vaccine card, neither of us felt ready to be indoors amid a bunch of maskless strangers.
This week has felt disorienting not only due to the weather, but also because of the Friday holiday— I don’t know about you, but when a stat holiday falls on any day other than Monday, it throws off the whole vibe. Wednesday felt like both Thursday and Friday somehow, and I considered taking this week off from writing, but here I am. (So, no hard feelings if you’re reading this from next week after ignoring your email from Thursday night until Monday morning.) Please be extra kind to anyone who is at work instead of getting a paid day off, and don’t forget to be on the lookout for discounted Easter treats once Sunday comes and goes.
On a day I’d planned to make soup for dinner— curried red lentil & squash— I came home grouchy because I felt like eating literally anything that wasn’t soup. But I didn’t have the energy to make anything more complex, and I’d already roasted an acorn squash for it so I was seemingly obligated. I used a can of coconut milk, some ginger and aromatics, and a squeeze of lime in addition to the main components and by the time it was simmering I was no longer mad about having to eat soup, because it smelled so amazing. To go with it I made a tomato-cheese toast with chaat masala, and a swirl of coconut yogurt and a sprinkle of cilantro on top of the soup made it even more flavourful and satisfying (my sister went back for a second bowl).
I don’t know if it’s the cold weather that got me into the curry zone lately, but I made another Indian feast this week: roasted aloo gobi and matar paneer, both recipes from Priya Krishna’s Indian-ish. Making aloo gobi this way is great because not only is the flavour fantastic, but while the cauliflower and potatoes are roasting you have time to prep the other ingredients and/or get started on another dish. The sauce for the matar paneer is blended, which, although it creates another dirty dish, means you don’t have to be too careful about how you chop your onion and chili and ginger before you cook them. Like the first time I made this, I used a can of fire-roasted tomatoes instead of waiting for fresh ones to cook down, which makes it come together faster.
The one warning I have for this dish is to be careful when adding the blended sauce back to the pan of oil and toasting spices: do so too quickly and it will blorp all over the kitchen, leaving you wiping sauce off a cupboard 4 feet away while also trying to make sure the turmeric in the aloo gobi doesn’t burn. Not that that particular event happened to me or anything. But how comforting on a cold stormy day to have a plate full of peas and cheese in spicy, fragrant tomato sauce with rice to mop it up, and perfectly textured potatoes and cauliflower for contrast.
I got tart pans for Christmas but had yet to use them, and suddenly I was overtaken by the urge to make something in one of them. Nothing in any of my cookbooks seemed to suit my mood, or else it sounded delicious but was not in season (I’ll be back for you later, brown butter rhubarb). Eventually I settled on a blood orange curd filling and a sablé crust. I halved the filling amounts in this recipe and added a splash of vanilla because I had only 3 blood oranges, and used an 8” pan instead of a 9” to compensate. Making tarts is fun because you usually get to par-bake them, which means pie weights/baking beans!
The curd came out a beautiful deep orangey sunset pink, but I left the tart in the oven a little too long and it came out overly bubbled instead of smooth across the top. Ideally I’d have made whipped cream to serve, but I didn’t have any cream (or coconut milk) and wasn’t about to go out to get some. Instead I mixed a little bit of honey and orange blossom water into some Greek yogurt, and to restore some of the tart’s beauty, garnished the slices with chopped pistachios and a few rose petals that Maddie pulled out of one of her tea blends. I think the half recipe of curd was a touch scant for the pan, but otherwise this was delightful: crisp and lightly sugared crust, tart-sweet citrus, and a little extra richness from the yogurt and nuts.
Also this week: in the freezer I found a small container of vodka sauce I’d made in the summer, and on a piece of tape I stuck to the container I’d helpfully written out directions for how much cheese, pasta water, and noodles to add. It became a very quick and easy dinner for a lazy Sunday just by boiling pasta and grating cheese while reheating the sauce. My sister was cooking bacon at the same time and offered us a piece, so we used that for garnish, and braised some kale in the pan to mix into the pasta.
Media:
I unfortunately get extreme schadenfreude from watching Bon Appetit continue to fumble the bag, so I was reading anything I could this week about Brad’s nightmare pastrami video. As a home canner who has angrily had to dispose of multiple jars of chutney after the seals failed, the idea of attempting to properly preserve seafood and meats at home is terrifying to me. So it is deeply unsettling to know that one of BA’s popular chefs is actively encouraging people to make things at home using fermentation methods that are questionable at best and dangerously unsafe at worst. (Semi-related: I rewatched Minority Report last weekend and despite all the horrifying things that happen in that movie, one of the most viscerally upsetting scenes is when he blindly takes a bite of the moldy sandwich, and then accidentally tries to wash it down with the rancid milk.)
As a palate cleanser, I encourage you to read this lovely piece by Corey Mintz about the joys of baking with his daughter, pandemic sourdough failures, and challah-induced feelings of accomplishment.
Thanks for reading— if you enjoyed this newsletter, please smash that like button below, or share it with someone new! I like providing this to you for free, but it does still involve time and effort, so donations I can use towards cookbooks or future treats are much appreciated. And just a reminder, I am still updating the playlist whenever I reference a new song in one of my titles. I would love for you to give it a listen (in order, of course).