In an urban environment it's easy to detach from the where our food comes from.  Many of us have never had to milk a cow, catch a squealing piglet or yank a clucky hen from her nest to gather eggs.  Which is why farms like Mariposa Farm, who welcome the public Friday, Saturday and Sunday are so necessarily,  and so very much fun.

Being new to the neighborhood, each new encounter comes with a sense of discovery and newness - even in the most familiar of places.  Mariposa Farm, just 45 minutes outside Ottawa, and hour and 15 minutes from Montreal, is as familiar as the family farm.

Farming is an honest living, and an essential part of  our food chain, but it's not an easy life.  I spent much of my youth mucking out barns, chasing cows and picking rocks. Perhaps it is this intimate knowledge of our food supply and how much effort goes into the simplest of ingredients, that fostered my deep respect for all things edible.   Facts I was witness to from a very young age; milk does not come from a carton, eggs do not just appear in the supermarket and that slab of bacon was once a cute, pink pig.

The little person in our life is fortunate to have a community of raving food fanatics in the family, but outside educational programming and our efforts to reinforce, she has no concept of how our food goes from farm to table.   There really is no substitute for tactile learning.  The sights, sounds, textures, tastes and ummm... smells... of a farm make learning interesting, fun and real.

Chef B and Miss C. and a friendly horse who thinks we should have snacks!

Mariposa is a working farm.  Proprietors Ian Walker & Suzanne Lavoie supply quality duck, goose, pork and chicken, as well as greens from their hothouse to many local restaurants and as supply allows the visiting public.  They also feed you lunch, once a week in their farm restaurant Sundays from 11AM - 1PM.   Last weekend we loaded up our favorite three year old and headed out to Mariposa for a little family food education.

Ian watering in the greenhouse, two levels of produce.

Spring has arrived dispite inclement weather, that never stops Mother Nature.  Nowhere is spring more in evidence than in the country; the green haze over the bare fields, the sprouting of early crops in the garden and the tiny critters that bring new life, activity and joy to the cycle of life on the farm.

Mariposa Farm is positively crawling with new babies, tiny scrambling pigs in a far off pen with the sows band together and stampede in a small herd.  It's hard to count them, because they move so fast but Suzanne estimates they have between 35 and 40 piglets at the moment.  In the barn you'll see chicks, goslings and ducklings as well as the new pig named "Leo" soon to be introduced the  herd.

Leo, will takeover his role as stud pig as soon as he's big enough to face his adoring sows, but for the moment he's loose in the barn making friends with the roaming geese, ducks and occasional escaped chicken.

You will likely find Suzanne & Ian busy with chores and farm maintenance.  If you overstay your welcome you may find yourself at the end of a rake, paintbrush or hose.   The greenhouse is busting with produce and there is always something to be done, fixed, repaired, watered, fed, corralled or fattened up.

We arrived in time to gather the eggs, a big thrill for the kiddo in her pink rubber boots.  She watched entranced as Ian picked through the straw to find the eggs, one-by-one, in varying shades of brown and beige placing them gently into the waiting bucket.  Both Ian & Suzanne are warm and kind, good with children and generous with their knowledge and experience.  Just honest, hardworking folks, who make it easy to feel at home.

We wandered though gardens, snooped in the greenhouse, poked through the straw in search of eggs and when we were all filled up on fresh air and sunshine, we strolled over the the store/restaurant to peruse items on shelves, in fridges and freezers.  After all, this is a producing farm.

From hand raised, confited duck legs, foie gras, magret, home smoked bacon, fresh eggs, preserves and a small line of boutique product from other quality local producers, you're sure to find something that appeals.

In the restaurant we found Chef Mark Currier prepareing for the Sunday feast, rinsing greens, prepping meats, seasoning sauces.  Back for another season in the kitchen at Mariposa Farm, Chef  Currier's Sunday lunch menu changes weekly.

Sunday's Table d'hôte offers a choice of three entrees, three mains, two desserts and a cheese plate for $38/person and $20 for children under 12 (plus tax)  There's always a selection of Mariposa grown goose, duck & foie gras on offer, truly farm to fork cooking, with a view of the farm from every table.  I look forward to coming back for lunch, the reputation of the kitchen is stellar and Chef B swears by Mariposa duck.

It's worth noting that Mariposa Farm accepts cash and credit cards only, and if you always wanted your very own pet duck to take on long walks and swim in the bathtub (or fatten to have your own foie gras) ducklings are available for a short time.

Pick a weekend and get out of the city, take the kids, keep your distance from the protective mamma pigs and say hello to your friendly, neighborhood farmer.

After our visit, I asked our little farmer if she would like eggs for breakfast "YA!" was her surprise response (she's the fussiest eater in the world). "How would you like them, scrambled?" "No, in a bucket!" OK, so we're part way there.

Mariposa Farm
Ian Walker & Suzanne Lavoie
6468 ch. comté / County Road 17
Plantagenet (Ontario) K0B 1L0 - CANADA
Telephone - (613) 673-5881
www.mariposa-duck.on.ca

Learning the lost art of goose herding and keeping a respectful distance from animals, no matter how fascinating.

... all of which involve wine.  Hmmm.  Curious.

The long summer days will soon come to an end as nights get cooler and leaves change colour and neighbourhood children go back to school in new, squeaky shoes.  Don’t waste a minute of time worrying about that, instead join the new movement... EVERYBODY’S HAPPY!

All it takes is five easy steps and happiness is yours.

• Step 1:  Buy Wine
• Step 2:  Open Wine
• Step 3:  Pour Wine (*glass preferred)
• Step 4:  Drink Wine
• Step 5:  See Step 4

Euphoria should commence within ten to fifteen minutes, beginning with a slight sigh and a smile. 

These steps are best undertaken in the company of friends.  If you are not in a position to buy your own wine, many have found that others (ie: aforementioned friends) will buy it for you - in the short-term.  It is considered best practice to reciprocate in due course.

Naturally one should obey all local bylaws when consuming wine and this means being sneaky when drinking wine in public parks, on subways and under bridges.

Happiness.  It’s everywhere (there's wine).

Note from our legal department: Must be of legal drinking age.  Please drink responsibly. Do not drink if you are pregnant, or think you are pregnant, this goes double for men.  Don’t drink and drive.  Ever.  Drink and walk or take a cab or fall asleep on the couch with the TV on.  That is all... just be HAPPY.

Asking the really important questions...

It's a glamorous life, this food thingy.  It's all champagne and unexpected phone calls from editors at Bon Appetit magazine and offers from the Food Network and everything you cook is perfect every single time. 

Not.  The reality is quite different from the fantasy.  Not bad, just different.

Truth be told, creating new recipes or even putting a fresh spin on an old favorite requires, at times, a considerable amount of experimentation to get to a flawless result.

Like anything else in life, be it art or love or music or sport; to get really good at something requires practice, a measure of trial and error and learning from our mistakes.

Yesterday I began a cake.   This is a cake I spent the entire summer of 2008 perfecting, jigging and rejigging. 

Past staff members at the Dragonfly Inn can attest to the many stages of its development;  from dry and pale, to overly moist and too sweet, to too gooey (with added chocolate bits) until finally I found a balance that is a rich, moist cake, so dense that it crumbles under your fork  and a smooth, under-sweet frosting, that thrills the sweet tooth of a mature palate.

That was before a bit of culinary EDU and now I look at my recipe and think:

"Knowing what I know now, how can I take it up a notch?" 

Which means moving back to the 'great ideas in desserts' file and shifting the recipe once again.

Like all good things... this takes a bit of time.  I truly LOVE to bake, it is the science of the culinary arts.  Unlike cuisine, pastry is exact and one little error can create disaster in the kitchen.

Sugar is a much more demanding mistress than salt.

Salt will forgive, salt will dilute, salt has much more flexible boundaries.  Not sugar.  Her properties are exact and rigid. Know them and work within them and you can create a masterpiece. Ignore them, and --- catastrophe.

Let us not cast dispersions on salt, for with salt there is FIRE.   Salt & I have had our share of disasters.  Some you hear about and some you don't, or haven't, yet.

Case in point: the rib recipe that I've been perfecting since February, not just in favour but in technique, for 'wow' results.  I've batched the sauce six times, alternately steamed, boiled, and brined the ribs to prep for the grill.

They have been (at various stages); tough, tasteless, too salty and good but not great.  The notes run on to six pages, now I think I have it.  We will know for sure next week if they pass the Chef B test.

They don't call me "Princess Rib-Curry" for nothing!

Gypsy Ribs - Version III. Good but not great; meat was dry and the sauce lacked brightness. Back to the kitchen it goes.

Or the apricot chutney recipe, which (despite proportions being correct) was far too acidic. One may have been a bit heavy handed with the currents, rustling in a condiment that was too strong on the 'pucker power' and whose aesthetic resembled a beautiful amber base, with addition of mouse turds.

Not really what I was going for.  So --- adjust and re-test and until it is JUST RIGHT --- keep it in the kitchen.

Indian Pork & Apricot Chutney Sandwich - Version 1. Close by no cigar... back to the kitchen it goes.

Salt demands immediacy and response.  Sugar demands patience and timing.

Thus the reason I never rush a cake.  Sugar does not like to be rushed.  She likes to take her time.  She commands respect and discipline and in exchange she brings divine pleasure to your life.

It is worth acknowledging that we are half-way to where we want to be.  It keeps us moving forward to our final destination.

The final results will be ready this afternoon, appropriately adjudicated by a willing test subject, then lovingly transcribed for readers.  Prepare yourselves for Double Dark Chocolate Raspberry Cake, tomorrow. 

Pure pleasure in chocolate form, from the Gypsy Kitchen.  Unless of course --- I get spanked by sugar.

Double Dark Chocolate Raspberry Cake - just the cake. Sugar, you Divine Goddess you...

Mild mannered Natasha LeBlanc; Chef by day, Bacon Girl by night --- fighting crimes against bacon everywhere. 

Now that's my kind of superhero.    

A recent dalliance at Play - Food, Wine introduced me to  a man in whites; Chris Wylie, Sous Chef and our conversation took an all too familiar turn down the dangerous road of... bacon.  How great it is.  How we can't live with out it and pork in general.  

"Oh, we don't do a staff meal without bacon" declares Chris.  

Suddenly I am considering dumping this whole food/travel writing/photography thingy and going back to waiting tables just for new bacon enhanced experiences at Play.  Are they hiring?   

Chris laughs and insists that I meet Natasha LeBlanc, on the Play cuisine team - who recently had a strip of bacon tattooed around her wrist. (Now, that is a girl with a commitment to pork.)  

Indeed, Natasha emerged from the kitchen and plans for an in-depth Food Gypsy conversation were set - just as soon as her 'bacon perfume' arrived. 

Natasha LeBlanc, as sweet as maple bacon.

That day has come.  I hereby dub her, 'Bacon Girl' defending defenceless pieces of bacon from going off in the fridge.   

And I thought I loved bacon.  Ha!  Mine is a mere passing interest in comparison.  This is her first tattoo.  

"I wanted to get something that really meant something to me" says Natasha.  Thus the bacon bracelet now on her skin.     

"I see where you're going with this" says I "relationships come and go, Chinese characters always need to be explained but bacon --- is forever."  

What better place to meet this modern day (meat) hero than at a place there fairly reveres pork in all it's glory - Murray Street - Kitchen, Wine, Charcuterie.  Its logo is pig shaped.  Bless their little bacon wrapped hearts.  

Between bites of the best (read highest calorie, sharp and creamy) Mac ‘n’ Cheese I've ever had outside the confines of my own kitchen (hand-cut sour cream spätzle, Le Coprin mushrooms, mixed artisan cheese sauce) and tasty looking morsels of the Charcuterie Plate (deep-fried smoked head cheese, cretons, shaved ox-tongue, regional cheese selection, boiled egg, mustard, pickled things & Rideau Rye) devoured between eyes-rolling-back moments; we chat.  

Gypsy:  What's your favorite Bacon?
Bacon Girl: Double Smoked.
Gypsy: Pan fry or oven fry?
Bacon Girl: If I'm only cooking a couple of slices, pan fry, but... who does that?  Oven fry.
Gypsy: First industry job?
Bacon Girl: White Spot, Edmonton.
Gypsy: Where did you train?
Bacob Girl: CCI (Culinary Institute of Canada, PEI.) plus a degree in Criminology from the University of Ontario.
Gypsy: Criminology? So... fighting crime is not new?
Bacon Girl: (laughs) No, I guess not.
Gypsy: What constitutes a "crime against bacon"?
Bacon Girl: Oh, definitely improperly cooked bacon.  Soggy bacon.  Burnt bacon. Half raw bacon. It must be stopped.  Respect the pig, let it be crisp.
Gypsy: (though giggles) Here, here!  Tell me how you cook your bacon...
Bacon Girl: Cook to halfway, sprinkle with brown sugar, return to oven, finish with Jack Daniels.
Gyspy: Ahhhhha, a Jack girl. I think I smell an Epic Mealtime tribute.
Bacon Girl:  OH MY GOD. I LOVE those guys.

Gypsy: What's your favorite episode?
Bacon Girl: Turduckinpig! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xc5wIpUenQ)
Gypsy: Hahahahahaha... a classic.  Be fun to throw down with the Epic boys don't you think?  Sure we could take them.
Bacon Girl: (laughing hysterically, wagging her head, pursing her lips) Bring it.  I don't see no bacon tattoo on those boys.

Hear that Epic Mealtime?  Bring it.  Bacon tattoo = epic... pork... dedication. (can we still have shirts?)  

I'd like to adopt her please.  If I had a daughter, I'd want her to be just like Natasha; fun, quirky, passionate, able to cook pans of bacon in a single bound, strong desire to be an organic farmer and sing lullabies to pigs & tomatoes.  Such a noble profession.  Honest.  Simple.  

Makes one wonder --- if I was cloned.  I lost a toothbrush about 27 years ago, cloning was just taking off.   Maybe some mad scientist...  

... she does look a little like me and I too love double smoked bacon.  

Nahhhhhhhhh.  Coincidence.  

Pass the bacon.  Be sure it's properly cooked.  Don't want to get Bacon Girl angry - you wouldn't like her when she's angry.  Though she'd still smell sweetly of Candied Bacon. 

Sigh.

http://www.murraystreet.ca/
110 Murray Street, Ottawa, Ontario 613-562-7244  

The Source of her Bacon-y Super Powers...

Don't eat this. 

In the midst of moving... and for some odd reason I appear to be both cleaning and painting my new apartment.  Still not sure why... one of the great mysteries of life.   Little time to write and even less to cook.  

Who wants cereal? 

But, cleaning is a part of cooking, and removing grease and grime is part of life so when I find a product that makes the workload lighter, I'm sharing it with my people.  

You know that tough kitchen grime, the kind that is a combination of grease, dog hair, dead bugs and dust bunnies that collects on the top of the kitchen cupboards?  

Ever try to scrub that stuff with your regular kitchen cleaner?  You'll be there a while, it just smears it around a little --- not so with Spray Nine.  Spray the product on, leave it a couple of minutes and just whipe it way with hot water.  

Voila. Done.  

Nasty extraction fan?  No worries, positively melts the goo off.  Tire marks from bikes?  Piece of cake.  Grease from bike chain on the walls?  Oh sure.  (Yup... I get all the FUN jobs.) 

Biodegradable, no idea how that's possible but --- dam!  I love this stuff. 

Yeah Spray Nine, Mutli Purpose Cleaner.

I am not being paid to endorse this product.  (Though I'm open to that...) 

What a SUPER CLEAN Gypsy Kitchen it will be when I'm done. 

I know what you're thinking... "when was the last time I cleaned the top of the cabinets?" Ummm... yea.

Fab Food Gypsy Editor, Astrid DesLandes (aka:  The French Girl) is currently gallivanting though the French countryside with fellow countrymen. 

 Residing in Calgary, Canada  where it's still winter(ish) Astrid is enjoying beautiful temperatures from Pairs to Marseille.

Oddly, posts are few and seemingly random until one steps back to see the bigger picture for a bit of Friday fun...

"More wine. Saturday afternoon. For l'Aperitif before the dinner coming up."

 

"The wine that came with dinner."

 

"Les Sables d'Olonne ~ Vendée. Lunch at Le Café du Port. Again???  Seafood and wine!"

                       

                     ~ The French Girl, in fine form

Hmmm... I am sensing a theme here.  Vive la France! 

Have fun mon amie.  Gros bisous~~~~

  

The weekend arrives and Mr. Patience - who has an extraordinarily low tolerance for waiting in line, full parking lots and incompetent people - suggests a trip to Ikea.

One must assume he has a need to self-punish, perhaps he burned something in the kitchen or he was particularly hard on the commentators on the Golf Channel and now he feels guilt.

Without a strategy this is a day that could disintegrate into temper tantrums, chain smoking and torrents of French cursing or worse yet... silence.  Which is why, in the magic land of build-it-yourself furnisher --- there's Ikea hot dogs.

Like the finish line after a marathon race, those 50 cent Ikea hot dogs loom like a blue ribbon.

Clever people the Swedish.

So, would the forth one be "red herring"?

Of course there are other Scandinavian delicacies to be had; herring, princess cakes, pannkakor and cinnamon rolls. What?  Wait... cinnamon buns aren't Swedish. (terrific though, oh Ikea cinnamon rolls, how I adore you.)

Unlike other items at Ikea, Ikea Food comes pre-assembled, no allen key required, simply dress and go.

I ask you, where else can you get a 50 cent hot dog?

All beef wieners, steamed to perfection, on soft, enriched, white buns, served in a delicate paper wrapper with your choice of ketchup, mustard and relish and only 195 calories.  (Don't worry your pretty little head about how many of those calories come from fat, you just walked through that HUGE store.  Fine, if you really must know Ikea has very thoughtfully posted the nutritional value of all of its food - click here.)

If a meltdown was imminent my instructions were to go immediately for hot dogs and run back yelling --- "START THE CAR!  START THE CAR!"

Fortunately, were were able to cleverly navigate isles full of couples squabbling and cranky children as well as several surly staff members and managed (instead) to find the three, lone, happy Ikea employees working on this particular Saturday.  Even bravely attempted food styling with three women behind me, seven trays of hot dogs between them and only one condiment machine working.  There was much rolling of eyes.

Now the proud owner of "Ikea's Real Swedish Food Book" ($3.99, should have bought TWO, start Christmas shopping early), I see meatballs in my future.  Of course, I must insist on wearing a Viking helmet while cooking from it, the kind with the horns.  I also have tea lights, everyone should have a bag of 500 tea lights.

Only 90 minutes from the first moment that we stepped foot inside, we stepped outside - after one, final line-up, to enjoy a little sunshine  and a hot dog at our impromptu "Scandinavian Tailgate Party" in the Ikea parking lot.

"This is how the Vikings watched football!" declares Mr. Patience, exuberant with his purchases - and his hot dog(s).

Happy "Scandinavian Tailgate Party" Day.

No... seriously. Parking lot + picnic = instant romance. We are simple creatures...

Would Monsieur like fresh, ground pepper with his pasta & cheese sauce?

"To all those cash challenged young peeps - enjoy the KD and Hamburger Helper.  One day your significant other will tell you that you can't have that anymore and you will be sad." ~ Peter Priestley Wright

Recently my friend Peter lamented that his darling spouse Diane, was restricting his diet (somewhat) by limiting his choices.  Knowing Peter as I do, this will (no doubt) be an excuse to buy more expensive wine.  We all have our way of coping with those things our significant others request of us... out of love.

But I couldn't help wondering what is it that bring us back to that box?  Thus this little journey of the soul --- indulgence and redemption.

Some might call this using my Food Porn abilities for evil.  Some may turn away in horror and some may cringe, but one thing is for certain, we all have those guilty food pleasures that are not adult, not good for us, and yet they feed us in a way nothing else can.

It is a connection to nostalgia, when we ate right from the pot (because we had little else) and we made what we had we turned into feasts of debauchery.  We added things.  It was probably a late night cooking frenzy, fueled by alcohol (or other substances) wherein your ultimate recipe for your particular 'box-o-food' evolved to 'epic' proportions.

In your mind at least.

And in that moment... with neon cheese sauce on your lips, you were happy.  (And then you passed out...)

In North America, the contents of this box was likely one of the first things you cooked on your own. Back when you were first permitted to boil water, it was a right of passage. If you're American it's "Kraft Macaroni & Cheese" and if you're Canadian it's "Kraft Dinner" or "KD".

In shooting this little ode to things-we-keep-at-the-back-of-the-cupboard/in-our-tool-box-so-the-spouse-wont-find-it, I was momentarily bored so I read the box. (We writers call this 'research'.)  Kraft, in its wisdom, now has two options for sauce on the box - 'Sensible Solution Cheese Sauce' (1 Tbsp margarine, 1/3 C skim milk) and 'Classic Cheese Sauce' (3 Tbsp butter, 1/4 C milk).

Call me crazy, but if I were being 'sensible' I might not be consuming foods that bear colours not found in nature.
What can I say, I went 'classic' on the 'sauce'.

No matter how far we go in life, there are always those guilty pleasures that we only allow those closest to us to see.  The tuna casserole made with a can of mushroom soup, the cup-o-noodles, the hot dogs with yellow mustard, the processed-cheese grilled cheese sandwiches on white bread, the (giant bag of) ripple chips, the chicken noodle soup from a box that is yellow... in an unearthly way.

Let us not forget the dips/spreads and other assorted goo straight from the jar... with a spoon... or a finger.  Peanut butter.  Cheese Whiz.  Chili con queso sauce.  Pickle chip dip.  Nutella.

So for those whose budget confines their choices, I say...

"Eat well, live large, enjoy life and learn to cook 'outside the box'."

And for those, now comfortable in life, whose indulgences are now overseen by those who love us, I say...

"What happens at the cabin, STAYS at the cabin."

Live. Love. Eat... well.

No, that is NOT ketchup. That is ORGANIC ketchup and Sriracha hot chili sauce. Just call me "Betty Cracker".

What happens when two manic Foodies collide at a downtown Ottawa hot spot with a couple of glasses of vino, some sufficiently delectable charcuterie and a couple of chunks of cheese?

"It's like the meeting of Smith & Wesson" declares our bartender.

"I'm leading with that" says Gypsy.

That pretty much sums up a social/food/networking/ 'Hi, I'm new here' get together with the lovely Paola St-Georges, Marketing Manager and Market Tour Guide at C'est Bon Cooking School.

There were declarations of joy, silence when food approached, general merriment, stories that started and stopped abruptly, laughter, much questioning of service staff, some giggling,  a couple of mouth smacking noises, and several photos taken.

Mostly of food.  Some of wine.  A couple of us.

I've heard rave reviews about Paola's Byward Market Tours and the lovely little school that she and her partner, Chef Andree Riffou, operate in the cooking salon of CA Paradis, Ottawa's premier kitchen (food freak) store

Meeting new people in a new city - that's what Twitter is for.  Cue impromptu chat and snack session.

"Oh Boy! Do you drink wine?" asks @thefoodgypsy.

"I do.  Shall we eat too? Can't wait, oh boy." replies @Cestboncooking.

"You drink wine and you eat?  We have so much in common.  Oh boy." says @thefoodgypsy.

Indeed, we do.

Now I understand why Paola is the perfect host to tour you through Ottawa's historic Byward market - she was pretty much born there. (Just a few short years ago, no matter what she says I refuse to believe she has teenage children.  Lies.  All lies.)  And she grew up, just blocks away.

On her walking tours Paola weaves you in and out of stores and stalls with colourful stories and a familiarity that only comes through time and intimate knowledge.  The people.  The product.  Who's who and what's hot.

Likewise, who better to make a seamless introduction to a broader spectrum of the Ottawa food scene... and her 'restaurant of the week'  Play - Food & Wine.  Conveniently, on my list of "Stuff to Do in Ottawa" along with its sister location; Beckta -Dining & Wine.

Located on York Street in the Byward Market, Play is all about small plates, a deep wine list and a stunning array of local, fresh, food.

The atmosphere is bright, clean and smooth, it has an uncluttered simplicity much like the food that they serve.  You can eat a little or you can eat a lot by cruising the menu, sharing plates, noshing, snacking, nibbling, sipping.  

Wine Director Grayson McDiarmid,  just happened to be behind the bar pulling bottles and recommending grapes.

I went with a white, something bright and fresh - the Chenin Blanc, L'Ecole 41 (Washington) was fragrant and enchanting.  My first glass in weeks, as I've been battling a flu.  It was like a breath of fresh air, as at long last, I could breathe again.  Paola started with the White, Tollgate, Stratus (Niagara) then switched to a red, which was lost in conversation (a grape for another day).

Play - Food & Wine; a perfect place for a meeting of the minds.

We shared notes.  Proof that we really are a community of raving food (and wine) lunatics, longing to taste, journey, live and share every last morsel, drop and experience.   Together we are carving out a little niche of wonderful.

There's plenty of wonderful.

Ms. St-Georges and I declared a mutual love for duck fat over a plate of mixed charcuterie - pork rillette (with duck fat) and a pineapple mostarda, lamb pancetta with red wine cherries, oxtail and duck liver terrine with Dijon and cornichons and a Pingue prosciutto with fig jam.

From the sublime to the rillette.  A balanced plate.  Sharp.  Sweet.  Salty.

I love to play with my food.

The conversation deepens. The laughter gets louder. (I blame the wine.) It's a scientific fact that women think better when they eat cheese (and drink wine) so... we ate cheese.

A selection of wicked Canadian cheeses. Straight off the menu: Avonlea Clothbound Cheddar/ P.E.I. / raw cow - dense, salty, creamy. Grey Owl / Notre-Dame-Du-Lac, QC / goat - creamy, chaulky, ash rind tangy. Roche Noire / St. Raymond, QC / cow - creamy, fruity, tangy.

Joyful to a one. We, gathered for this meeting, are not afraid of strong cheese or veins of blue or raw milk. We live for that stuff.

The insider info:

"The Avonlea cheddar is aged in potato sacks for that earthy nose."

Bartenders know everything.

On my Gypsy palette: a cheddar unlike any I'd ever experienced, richer, denser, like a parmesan. I claim it for its protein properties.  I would like to melt the Avonlea on things, and make sauces of it.  I may erect a shrine to it.  (It must be the red hair.)

Plans for in-depth Food Gypsy features (Paola's Byward Market Tour, a day with Paola and Chef Andree at C'est Bon Cooking) followed as that cheese hit those brain cells, and then --- a little bowl of popcorn, drizzled in truffle oil, appeared before us.

Popcorn, drizzled in truffle oil, a Play signature item.

I'd like to say to whomever the evil genius was who invented the truffle oil popcorn --- I can't decide if I love you or hate you.

Because now every time I go the movies and the cute teenager behind the counter asks if I'd like butter (which used to be just fine BTW) or topping, I'll sigh and say "do you have truffle oil?" and she will just roll her eyes and say "no" and I will be sad.

"Which is why you should always have truffle SALT in your purse" says Paola, producing some "you just never know!" Then she rolls the lid over.  It reads --- 'Fungus Amoungus'.

Yup, like the meeting of Smith and Wesson, right here in Bytown.  Shooting from the hip.

To be continued...

C'est Bon Cooking
T: 613-291-9155
http://www.cestboncooking.ca/

Play - Eat & Wine
1 York Street Ottawa, Ontario
T 613.667.9207
http://www.playfood.ca/Home/tabid/4161/Default.aspx

Play's Hot Truffle Oil Popcorn has permanently ruined going to the movies, butter just isn't good enough anymore.

Looking for some Cajun inspiration this weekend, struck up a conversation with guy across the table who just happens to be a very talented Chef.

“Go classic, go simple... Crab Cakes, Jambalaya and Beignets” says Ben.

"What’s a Beignet?"

His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open “You don’t know Beignets?”

"Apparently not" says Gypsy.

What followed (after the rolled eyes and the ‘tut-tuting’) was not just a lesson in French Cuisine but a sentimental journey down the garden path of childhood and family cooking in the kitchen with his Grandmother, Georgette.

Food Gypsy Technical Advisor Chef Benoit Gelinotte learned to cook where most of us learned to cook, in the kitchens of his mother and his grandmother.  Thing is... his maternal grandmother, Georgette, was the talented Chef Georgette.

The other thing is... he’s French.

Brought up in a culture of food, loving the process and seeing the day-to-day results in the kitchen with a strong willed woman at the helm; when it came to a decision as to which career path to take, he followed in her footsteps, and has now been in the kitchen for more than 25 years.

During his culinary education and into adulthood, Ben was expected in his Grandmother’s kitchen on all holidays, religious events, festivals and family gatherings.  Cooking (among other things) Beignets for hours on end.  Mountains of them.

No wonder he was her favourite.

“A ‘proper’ Beignet is a yeasted dough similar to a brioche,  fortified with egg and butter, then rolled, cut, twisted and fried, light and golden brown and dusted with sugar”  he explains.

“So... it’s like a doughnut.”

“MAIS NON” says Ben “it’s like a FRENCH doughnut."

Oooo la.  The French do have a way with food.

It’s that culture of cuisine that fuels Cajun cuisine, because after all, before they were ‘Cajun’ they were ‘Acadian’; French loyalist sent packing by the British from what are now the Canadian Maritime provinces, who then took root in the swamps of Louisiana and throughout the south.

In an all too brief trip to New Orleans some years ago, I developed a deep fondness for its people and their food.

Rich in cultural lore, flavour and spice, plus that signature fingerprint of the French which echoes in every bite.

Butter.  Cream.  Pork fat.  Decadence.

The Beignet in particular is a tradition during carnival season, its distinct shape is twisted to represent the carnival mask.  But it is the light crispness, combined with its rich buttery dough that rises and puffs as it’s cooked in hot fat... that makes the Beignet addictive.

Ben’s secret Beignet ingredient?  Orange Blossom Water.  A light, fragrant essence that make this a very traditional recipe. You can find Orange Blossom Water at most large grocery stores or specially food shops.

Chef Georgette would insist.  So does Chef Benoit.

Hope you enjoy our little Cajun tribute to Mardi Gras, click here for a classic, Spicy, Saucy Jambalaya a la Gypsy  for some Louisiana heat... no matter where in the world you may be.

(Going to have to owe you one on the crab cakes, only so many hours in a day.)

Literally translating to ‘Fat Tuesday’, Mardi Gras is the feast before Lent, 40 days of fasting and self-denial.  After feasting on Beignets, now I know why it’s called ‘Fat Tuesday’, it should be followed by ‘Go to the gym Wednesday’.

My jeans appear to have shrunk.  I consider them faulty.

Beignets de Carnival Recipe

Ease of Preparation: Easy
Time: 90 minutes
Serves: 6

330 Grams sifted flour (2 2/3 Cups)
3 Eggs
60 Grams sugar (1/3 Cup)
30 Milliliters warm milk (2 Tablespoons)
85 Grams soft butter (1/3 Cup + 2 Teaspoons)
9 Grams fresh yeast (1/2 Teaspoon)
30 Milliliters orange blossom water (2 Tablespoons)
25 Grams lemon zest (2 Tablespoons)
8 Milliliters vanilla extract (½ Teaspoon)
Pinch of salt
Oil for frying (best results: corn or sunflower)

Method :

1. In large bowl mix flour, sugar, salt, orange blossom water, vanilla & lemon zest.
2. In a small pot, heat milk to a light simmer.
3. In small bowl add yeast & warm milk, mixing thoroughly to dissolve yeast.
4. Lightly beat eggs in a small bowl.
5. Make a well in the center of the flour, add both egg and yeast moisture to dry ingredients.  Mix the dough well by hand, then knead to achieve a stiff dough that springs back when touched. Let stand at room temperature.
6. In a small bowl, ensure butter is soft, with no lumps.
7. Place dough on cool, clean surface and form into flat disk, add soft butter to centre, then fold around butter. Alternately kneading and folding to incorporate all fat, work dough until smooth (but sticky), airy and light.
8. On lightly floured surface, roll dough to about 1/4 inch thick, and cut into (rough) diamond shaped strips, cut two slits (diagonally) in centre of each, twist one end through farthest slit and let stand (on lightly floured surface) until ready to fry.
9. Fry over medium heat (oil temp: oil to 325*F/165*C) until golden.  Remove from pan, drain on paper towel, and cool.  Sprinkle icing sugar.

Beignets can be enjoyed hot or cold and can be served with a fruit compote, or dipped in warm Nutella at 3AM, or with coffee for ummm... breakfast.  Just random thoughts based in 'research'.

Serves 6 people or 2 people, over the course of three days. (FAT Tuesday.)

He made Beignets. First time in 20 years he's made Beignets.  I'm a lucky girl.

Gypsy Math: I know, I know it’s weighed, metric.  The dude is FRENCH.  Hey, I was just happy it was in English.

Conversions should be reasonably accurate, the most important measurements are flour, yeast, butter, and egg, which were checked twice, both on a conversion scale and in my kitchen.  Except the eggs, there are no metric eggs, fun to mess a newbie with though.

"What?!  These eggs are Imperial, the recipe is in Metric.  Dam.  Go to the store and get a dozen metric eggs..."

Chef Georgette would be so proud, she'd particularly like the hat.