Earlier this year, I was in Dunedin, Florida for baseball spring training (as a spectator), when it was still okay to shop. I bought several types of sea salt from the Appalachian Mountains, including Parfume de Sel, sea salt flavoured with green peppercorns, cardamom, star anise, lavender, and rose petals.

When I reorganized my spice cupboard and put all the salt together in one place, there was quite a variety: sea salt from the Appalachians, the Mediterranean, and Brazil. Himalayan pink salt. Kosher salt from Sicily. Plain table salt.

The Appalachian sea salt comes from the ancient Iapetus Ocean, that was forced under the Appalachians during their geologic formation. (Incidentally, the route to Florida went through the Appalachians.) The region once had a flourishing salt industry, though “salt kings” made their fortunes on the forced labour of enslaved people. Nowadays, salt is a niche industry with a few artisanal producers. Briny water is evaporated in hothouses for several weeks, and then the salt is hand-raked and packaged.

I bought Himalayan pink salt at Costco. The label says it’s “from the heart of the Himalayan Mountains,” though the mine is actually in the Salt Range in Punjab, Pakistan, in the foothills of the Himalayas. The name may evoke images of windswept peaks and Sherpa guides, but those are in Nepal. Pakistan is in the process of trademarking pink salt with a plan to export less in rock form, refine and process more of it locally, and realize more of the profits at home.

Kosher salt is the preferred choice of many cooks and chefs, home and professional. It has large, coarse crystals that are slow-dissolving, ideal for drawing blood out of meat in the koshering process, hence the name. Kosher salt doesn’t have added iodine, which many claim imparts a metallic flavour.

Table salt does have added iodine, a practice that began nearly a century ago as a public health measure to prevent goiter, enlargement of the thyroid from iodine deficiency, and conversely, from iodine toxicity. Generally, people who live near a coast get enough daily iodine (150 micrograms). For everyone else, just under half a teaspoon per day of iodized salt, dried kelp, or dried dulse will do it.

I was curious to try dulse (a sea vegetable, aka seaweed), and bought some harvested in Grand Manan, New Brunswick. Dulse can be added while cooking or eaten straight out of the package, which is how I tried it. It’s like chewy tissue paper and tastes like the sea, salty with peaty overtones. It’s the closest I’ll get to the coast for some time, it seems.

Here’s to better days ahead in 2021!

This summer had to be one of the strangest on record. Travel was almost non-existent, restaurants were nowhere near capacity, and the one sector of the economy that did and continues to do well is groceries, as more people have rediscovered the joy of home cooking.

Supporting local independent stores is more important than ever. For one thing, it’s easy to zip in and out of a small store. The selection isn’t as wide as what’s on offer in a supermarket, and the prices may be higher, but I haven’t been buying clothes or books, or even going to the hairdresser, so it all works out.

I have an organic grocery store nearby that carries a lot of locally grown produce. This summer the strawberries were just stellar. They were still good in mid-October, but they were fantastic at the height of summer. I saw the farm truck one day, and the driver was carefully stacking boxes of strawberries on a dolly. They only traveled about an hour by highway. (I’ve reused the plastic baskets to organize the spice cupboard.)

Nothing says summer quite like watermelon, and it was delightful to find mini watermelons, a perfect size for a small household. Even the seeds were tiny.

The new “touch it, buy it” rule led me to buy a kilo bag of popping corn, though I couldn’t see myself using it up. Little did I know. Fresh popcorn sprinkled with sea salt has become a wee obsession. Using just two tablespoons of kernels per batch, I steadily worked my way through an entire kilo, and then bought more at a farmer’s market.

I had a pot of basil on the deck, and it did very well in the bright sun with a daily soaking. It produced fresh, fragrant basil for months, and yielded a bountiful harvest. To preserve it, I pulsed the leaves in the food processor with a bit of olive oil and then froze that in ice cube trays. When a recipe calls for fresh basil, I just toss in a cube. Fresh is still unbeatable for flavour and aroma, but frozen is a close second. It reminds me of the little pockets of joy that were to be found, even in a very weird summer.

All things considered, feeling a bit restless is a good problem to have. I look forward to going to a restaurant again, and I plan to splurge on somewhere really nice.

Until then, I’m enjoying being my own personal chef. Cooking is my favourite pastime (some might say obsession). Cooking imposes routine and structure on the day, and by now we know how fluid the days in lockdown can be. And eating well-prepared, nutritious food promotes a feeling of wellness.

I’m happy to report that online grocery shopping is back to same-day delivery. It doesn’t feel frantic like it did when it took two weeks. It’s a change from how I used to shop, going out and getting a few things every other day or so. But I’m used to having a full larder, and a lot of different ingredients on hand to cook with.

Some recent dishes…

Black beans and rice: This is comfort food that sings! A nice amount of spicy but not too hot. I cooked the black beans in the trusty InstantPot (aka iPot). The recipe called for pumpkin spice, but a Google search came up with a recipe and I had everything on hand: cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg.   

Pasta e fagioli: As in, “When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool, that’s amore…” This was just exquisite. The secret is to run the carrots, leeks, and garlic (aka sofrito) through the food processor until finely chopped, and reduce it for about 10 minutes to extract the flavours. I took a shortcut and cooked the cranberry beans in the iPot, then added them in. The other secret is to cook the pasta separately and add it at the end. My version was delicious and full-on vegan. I didn’t miss the ham hock or the Parmesan.

Ratatouille: No trip to France this summer, but no reason not to have a nice summery French dish. Simmered eggplant, zucchini, onions, diced tomatoes, fennel seeds, and a handful of incredibly fragrant basil from the pot on the deck. It’s like perfume. Ratatouille is one of those dishes that’s even better the next day.

A hot summer day is another reason to sing the praises of an induction stove. Induction doesn’t create a lot of ambient heat, so the kitchen stays cooler. It’s perfect when the Humidex is hovering in the high 30s.

Stay cool and safe. And eat well!

Disruptions in the supply chain may result in de facto meat rationing. So it’s good to keep in mind the other sources of protein: pulses, grains, nuts, and seeds.

Pulses are the edible dried seeds from plants in the legume family (with pods), such as beans, peas, lentils, and chickpeas. Brown lentils are a great stand-in for meat in shepherd’s pie and chili. I’ve tried vegan crumble, but I prefer lentils.

Grains: There are grains and “ancient grains,” so-called because they’ve come down to us unchanged since like, forever. I’ve cooked with barley and quinoa (actually a pseudo-cereal), and now I’ve added millet and farro to my repertoire.   

Nuts: I got a huge bag of pecans from Costco and I thought I’d never finish them. But it turns out that a bowlful of pecans and raisins is a lovely snack to nibble on while watching TV.  

Seeds: a mix of toasted sunflower seeds, pine nuts, and pepitas sprinkled over pasta adds a nice crunch and a bit of protein.

When making plant-based meals, think of big flavours. Red wine vinegar to add zing to borscht. Smoked paprika for a taste and aroma that’s like grilled sausages. Vegan Worcestershire sauce adds beefy flavour. Fennel seeds add a pop of licorice flavour that goes well with roasted veggies and herbs. Capers and black olives give pungency and saltiness to a basic tomato sauce.

Using veggie stock in place of water makes a richer base for soups and stews. I found a recipe for stock cubes where the veggies are pureed in a food processor, frozen in ice cube trays, then reconstituted in boiling water.

It takes a bit of thinking and planning to replace meat with plant-based proteins. I’ve been following a vegan diet for about a year, and I’ve found that big flavour goes a long way.

Postscript: The ants made a brief reappearance. I turned into a clean freak. The bag of compost waste goes in the freezer. No food sits out on the counter. Dishes go right in the dishwasher, the door latched. Pots are barely cool before they’re washed and put away. No knives or utensils in the sink overnight. On the bright side, it’s nice to wake up to a spotless kitchen.

Being in lockdown, I hadn’t left the house other than to take out the garbage. But I hit a breaking point when my kitchen was suddenly party central for black ants. It was unnerving how many there were, and how many more kept showing up uninvited.

The only thing for it was to get ant traps. So I donned a face mask and off I went to the store. I’m happy to report that the traps are doing the trick, though I did still find an ant in the tea kettle. (My kitchen is also a favoured spot for spiders, but they tend to keep their distance.)

My nerves were frayed, so I made a comforting soup with sweet potatoes, orange zest, grated ginger, and a pinch of cayenne. The recipe is from Simply Nigella by Nigella Lawson, and while it says to roast the sweet potatoes, I microwaved them because it’s faster. Eating the soup felt restorative and it chased away the chill of a spring evening.  

I’d been rationing sugar until the next delivery, when it occurred to me that I had lots of sugar in various forms: white sugar, brown sugar, molasses, maple syrup, and honey (a pre-vegan purchase). Once the brown sugar was used up, I made more by mixing a tablespoon of molasses into a cup of white sugar. (This can also be done in a food processor.) The next time, I went one better and just added the molasses in with the rest of the ingredients.

I ended up with a large family-size jar of peanut butter (only size available), which is way more than I usually buy. I worried it would dry up before I could use it, but happily that hasn’t been the case. First, there’s my breakfast staple of peanut butter on toast. Then I made a stir-fry with peanut sauce; and a stew with peanut butter, chickpeas, and kale; and for a treat, I made a batch of peanut butter cookies.

I found the cookie recipe online (Betty Crocker, no less) and the ingredients were in the pantry. What is not to love about fresh-baked cookies? These were irresistible. I’ll make another batch, but I’m pacing myself because when this lockdown is over, I want to be able to fit in my clothes.

Before, I could duck out to a local organic market and buy a loaf of artisanal bread. Now, to ensure that I have bread between grocery deliveries, I have to make it myself.

Here’s a truth that should be universally acknowledged: some recipes just don’t work. The bread recipe said to proof the yeast in a large amount of water and no sugar. I was skeptical but I went ahead. It didn’t work. I thought maybe the water was too hot so I tried again. It still didn’t work. Then I followed the directions on the yeast packet: sprinkle the yeast over a small amount of water and sugar. Success! But I’d used three packets of yeast, and I didn’t have any more.

I next made Irish soda bread which gets its lift not from yeast, but from the reaction between buttermilk and baking soda. (I used soy milk soured with lemon juice.)  

Both breads had a slightly flour-y taste. I checked the whole wheat flour and discovered that it was a month past the best-before date. It wasn’t rancid, but it definitely had a stale quality that came through in the bread. Hereafter, I’ll keep whole wheat flour in the fridge and use it up quickly.

Yeast has become a precious commodity. A friend has been picking up groceries for me, and last time she couldn’t find yeast, not even in the organic section. She happened to be in the bulk section when a fresh shipment came in, and she scooped some up for both of us.

With a fresh supply of yeast, I tried another batch of bread, this one oatmeal and white. First off, I ignored the recipe instructions to proof the yeast with the oatmeal, because if it didn’t work, I’d have to chuck the whole thing out. So I put yeast in a bowl with a small amount of water and sugar and it worked perfectly, quickly foaming and puffing up, very much alive. The bread had a chewy crust, a light and crumbly texture that held together for slicing, and a mildly sweet flavour.

Making bread is science working in tandem with magic: ingredients combined in a sequence of steps, the mechanics of kneading, the application of heat, an aroma that dispels the blues, and a happy feeling eating bread warm from the oven (or the toaster), slathered with (vegan) butter.

I look forward to my next trip to the market for artisanal bread. Meantime, I’m practicing magic at home.

Shopping at a grocery store is becoming a distant memory as we adapt to food shopping online. The waiting time now for pick-up is 12 days, as grocery stores go flat out to keep us fed and at home.

The online order form didn’t recognize “wheat berries” though I’ve seen them in the store. No matter. I have rice and quinoa.

Now that a stranger is food shopping on my behalf, I’ve had a few surprises. For instance, I ordered ginger marmalade, but I got orange and ginger marmalade. No big deal, right? Only I really, really don’t like orange marmalade. Some people love the tangy bitterness of the orange rind. I’m not one of them.

But with almost two weeks until my next delivery, I decided to try it on toast. I took a cautious bite, and I will stay that I didn’t hate it. The ginger softens the bitter orange. I wouldn’t buy it again, but I’ll eat it.

While writing this, I remembered a very funny song, “Toast,” recorded in 1978 by Streetband, with one Paul Young singing lead. (He went on to have a hit solo in 1985 with “Every Time You Go Away.”) Marmalade is listed as something to have on toast.

That’s toast
Just toast
Boo boo boo boo boo boo boooo…

But I digress…

The pita I ordered wasn’t available, but I did get yeast and I’m going to try my hand at making homemade pita. If nothing else, it’ll be very fresh.

A friend has been picking up groceries for me, and I’d asked for lemons. The only ones available came in a big bag, and one of the things I made with this bounty is lemonade: a simple syrup infused with lemon zest, then added to freshly squeezed lemon juice and filtered water. It’s tart and sweet, and makes a nice substitute for pop. And I got to reuse two plastic water bottles.

When life gives you lemons…  

I haven’t actually been to a grocery store in two weeks because I was self-isolating after getting home from a trip. (I’m fine.)

I ordered groceries online and I was surprised that the pick up (via taxi) wasn’t until the next day. Fast forward 10 days: I ordered groceries on Monday and the first available pick-up was Friday. Everyone is stocking up it seems, and let’s face it, some people are buying way more than they need (a.k.a. hoarding).

Because I can’t just dash out to the store when I need an ingredient for a recipe, I’m being more mindful about using what I have on hand.

For instance, I made a lovely stew that had a can of tomatoes, a can of chickpeas, some frozen kale, and since I didn’t have the fennel seeds the recipe called for, I used fresh fennel and diced it finely. That worked well.

I made a lentil soup that was just stellar: coriander, cumin, ginger, cinnamon, garlic, and lemon, and drizzled with olive oil infused with mint and paprika. It’s my new favourite comfort food.

Tinned baked beans are all fine and well, but homemade are just that much better. I cooked a batch in the Instant Pot with onion, garlic, tomato paste, Dijon mustard, brown sugar, molasses, veggie stock, and smoked paprika. Delicious!

The oat milk I usually buy was sold out, so I’ll have to see what I get with this week’s order. Meantime, I made some from scratch and I will say that it’s a work in progress. I’m determined to find the right recipe because oat milk is pricey to buy, but costs very little to make.

I was making cinnamon bread and the brown sugar had turned into a rock, as it does. Dr. Google said to put it in a covered dish with a damp paper towel and microwave it for 20 seconds or so. I had to scrape and crush it into granules, but it was usable. Dr. Google also suggested simply adding molasses to white sugar. I’ll try that next time.

Stay safe. Stay home. We’re getting through this.  

I’m thrilled to report that I’ve joined the legions of Pot-heads out there.

Just to be clear: my little blog isn’t monetized, so I don’t earn any money if I mention a product. My rhapsodizing about the Instant Pot has no strings attached.

Getting an Instant Pot came on the heels of my decision to follow a plant-based, vegan diet, which included more beans. The thought of eating a lot of canned beans didn’t have a lot of appeal, so I started using dried. I made a batch of hummus (a Jamie Oliver recipe); I soaked chickpeas in salted water overnight, then cooked them slowly in a pot on the stove. They had a lovely nutty flavour.

Cooking beans on the stove is easy enough, but a bit time-consuming. It sounded a lot more efficient to use a pressure cooker and I considered the classic style with a vented lid that goes on the stove. But then I thought surely in this day and age there must be an electric pressure cooker. And there is: the Instant Pot.

It took a couple of tries to get the hang of using it. The first time I cooked chickpeas, I got an error message, but they were still perfectly cooked.

Whether to soak dried beans before cooking is a matter of preference, and the Instant Pot is perfect for cooking them either way. However, soaking beans makes them easier to digest. And since I eat a lot of beans (the musical fruit, good for your heart) I’ll just say that my vote is for soaking. Overnight in salted water is preferable, or at least a few hours.  

The variety of dried beans is endless. I have a terrific grocery store nearby that has an entire aisle devoted to dried beans.

For New Year’s, I made Hoppin’ John, a stew with black-eyed peas from the southern U.S. I’ve made Instant Pot baked beans with molasses. And every week, I make a fresh batch of hummus.