winter will cut you quick
a return to the bar, falafel, and what to do with overbaked bread
I wish I could feel smug about how, when it was so sunny and temperatures hit above 10°C not too long ago, I kept reminding myself that this was the false spring so I wouldn’t get too excited. But I’m too busy being mad about being cold. I know it’s still technically winter, but snow in late February feels like that one guy at the party who’s still trying to blast LCD Soundsystem when it’s 2:30am and everyone else is winding down— come on man, read the room.
At least the chilly weather means we can continue to enjoy the last weeks of winter comfort foods, instead of feeling that they’ve overstayed their welcome. I recently went to The Magnet (one of the last places I visited before the shutdown in March 2020) to meet a friend for beers, and the brussels sprouts there were delicious. It was the first day of restaurants and bars being able to operate at full capacity again, and I expected to be monitoring the actions of other patrons and unable to feel comfortable, but I was surprised how quickly I was able to relax and have a nice time. It doesn’t feel quite “normal” yet, and I don’t know when that might happen, but I may be ready to pretend a little more often.
I’ve been working less the past couple weeks, and you’d think with the added spare time I might be more interested in cooking new things, but it hasn’t really worked out that way right now. Maybe I’m too caught up in the news cycle; I keep finding myself looking up from my computer and suddenly it’s 6pm and time once again to throw together a meal. I’ve pulled from a few previous ideas and past favourites this week, and I hope they help if you, too, are finding yourself currently unable to feel especially creative in the kitchen.
I saw someone else’s falafel on Instagram over the weekend, so then I of course needed some falafel, too. I made them for the first time last spring with this basic recipe, which served me well again using a shallow fry method for small patties. I’m not too intimidated by deep frying, I just hate how much oil it uses, and how it can make your house smell of oil for hours afterwards! The falafel mixture is easy to make in the food processor, and since the recipe makes more than we need just for dinner, I like to form the patties and freeze them on a baking sheet, uncooked, for future use. They just need a couple of extra minutes in the frying oil to cook from frozen.
It’s funny: for me, the spiced and smoky smell of the kebab meat when I’m near donair places always makes me crave falafel, even though the flavour and smell are completely unrelated— it’s just what I always order when I’m there, so I make that association subconsciously. Similarly, smelling the frying onions of a hot dog street vendor makes me crave a hot dog, even though I rarely put fried onions on mine. Anyway, we ate our delightfully crispy falafel donair-style, in pitas with toum, tahini sauce, pickled cabbage and onion, and fresh veggies. And if you aren’t the type of person to be bothered by, say, putting oat milk in oatmeal, you could add a smear of hummus as well.
If you’re like me, you’re forever putting little leftover bits of sauces in the fridge after making a meal, and thinking, “I’ll find another use for this.” So I’m always proud of myself when I actually manage to do it instead of stumbling upon the container five weeks later and throwing it out. In the freezer I found a couple of tuna steaks I got on sale from an Ocean Wise company, and decided to cook them with a bit of leftover hoisin glaze. Rare or medium rare is the way to go with this cut of tuna, so I used a cast iron over medium-high heat to sear the outside. I should have added the glaze sooner though, because the thinner of the two steaks was a bit more done than I’d wanted. And my attempt at a sesame seed crust didn’t really work out— they just floated around in the glaze instead of sticking to the fish— but it was nice for texture nonetheless.
To go with it, I made more of the miso butter roast potatoes I tried a couple of weeks ago, and added some garlicky beets to the mix (garlic powder may well be the only thing that makes me able to continue eating beets until spring comes). This meal had lots of umami and the sweetness of the glaze was a good contrast. I originally made the glaze for braising squash, which would have been a nice addition here, or broccolini would work too. Tofu would also be a great alternative to tuna with this sauce; I would opt for slices rather than cubes.
While making bread on the weekend, I neglected to press start on the timer after rotating the pan in the oven, and the result was that I forgot about it while doing the crossword… whoops. It came out a fair bit darker and crustier than usual but still soft inside, so although it was a little more work to cut into, it wasn’t bad at all. We used the last of the bacon to make BLTs with it (and a side of Caesar salad), and later in the week I made the mushrooms and greens with toast again. I love this dish for how quickly it comes together, and how much flavour the mushrooms can hold from only a few ingredients.
I added thyme, and used cave-aged gruyère on top and put it under the broiler as I usually do instead of melting the cheese with the lid on (this way, you can skip the bread-toasting step). Gruyère is a harder cheese and isn’t the best for melting but I love its pungent taste compared to something milder like mozzarella or provolone. I keep meaning to buy taleggio, one of the suggested cheeses in the recipe: still mild and creamy for melting, but definitely a little more tangy.
I recommended this crisp toffee bar recipe to someone recently and then of course, couldn’t stop thinking about it until I made it again. I tried these for my holiday baking in 2020 and loved them, despite the mixed reviews. It’s a little like a blondie and a little like a cookie, but you make it in a preheated cast iron pan in order to get a deliciously browned, butterscotch-like flavour on the bottom. I do prefer these on the lesser baked side; 30 minutes will have them nicely brown and crisp at the edges but still chewy in the middle. I think chocolate chips and flaky salt are the perfect additions, but some toasted or candied nuts would probably be really good, too.
As a lover of dive bars and people watching, this piece for Bon Appetit resonated with me (I didn’t notice the byline initially, but figured out a couple paragraphs in that it was written by Alicia Kennedy): what makes a dive bar a dive bar. As the author points out, a dive bar is more about how it feels when you’re there than anything else, which is why it’s next to impossible to create one if that’s what you’re setting out to do— it’s something that comes about about organically. It’s also something I look for when I travel; I love being in an unfamiliar place and seeing its people in a place that’s familiar to them. When my mom and I visited San Juan years ago, we returned multiple times to a nondescript sports bar because it felt nice to have a home base where we could kill time at the end of the night, having one more drink and watching various factions of people come and go.
Such places are harder to find as rent prices skyrocket— in Vancouver, yes, but in almost every other major city— so I hold fast to my past experiences and memories. Two dollar highballs at the Columbia during Music Waste, the sticky floors of the pre-Donnelly Lamplighter, making a new friend every time you went to the bathroom at the Cambie. Arriving at the British Ex-Servicemens for karaoke too early and needing to order food, which is either an M&M’s meat pie heated in a toaster oven by an elderly staff member or a bag of Old Dutch chips. At The Brighton as the Sedins’ final Canucks game aired, a regular ringing the bell which signifies you’ll buy a round for everyone in the bar, and then coming around to toast each of us individually. Cheers, mate.
Thanks for reading— if you enjoyed this newsletter, please 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. I don’t have anything cute or funny to share this week, but I would love for you to listen to one of my favourites by the legendary Mark Lanegan. May his soul rest in peace.