The toffee and the berries

You really won't believe this toffee: tart, rich and brown-sugary as a good toffee should be, with the added tang of wild low-bush berries from the boreal forest. Thousands swooned over low-bush cranberry toffee at the Yukon Riverside Arts Festival in August of 2011, and last weekend during our book signing at Aroma Borealis in Whitehorse one fellow bought a copy of The Boreal Gourmet on the strength of the toffee alone. When he told me this I said Eek! But it's not the in the book! And I had to promise to put the recipe up here this weekend. So here you go, my current favourite thing to make with low bush cranberries. (If you can't find low-bush, you in the unlucky south, try regular store-bought cranberries.)

Berries, butter, brown sugar and cream.

Low Bush Cranberry Toffee

1 ½ cups (375 ml) low bush cranberries

½ cup (125 ml) 35 percent cream

3 tbsp (45 ml) butter

1 cup (250 ml) brown sugar

Cook cranberries for five minutes over medium heat, just until the juice starts to appear. (If you've taken the berries right from the freezer, add a tablespoon of water just so they don't scorch. For store-bought cranberries, you may need to add more water.) Remove from heat, strain out the water, blend and press through a sieve. (Use the pulp for muffins, smoothies or mixed into your morning oatmeal.) Combine cranberries in a wide saucepan with cream, butter and sugar and heat to boiling over medium heat. Cook at medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture reaches a temperature of 125C on a candy thermometer, or the firm ball stage; this usually takes about 15 minutes. Pour into a buttered 8-inch square pan. Cut into small squares before the toffee has completely cooled. Remove from pan and wrap in waxed paper squares.

Getting to the firm ball stage: a photo gallery

  1) The mixture has just come to the boil over medium heat. Note the foam at the edge of the pot. This will soon disappear.

2) The mixture has been boiling for five minutes, and is a mass of large, rapidly moving bubbles.

3) At this stage, a bit of mixture dropped from a spoon into a glass of cold water breaks apart.

  4) Five minutes later, a drop of mixture holds together.

 5) The same drop removed from the water still holds together and forms a soft ball.

6) Five to seven minutes later, the mixture has darkened in colour until it looks like the famous Brunello di Montalcino, the exquisite Tuscan wine--a deep, browny-red. It has reached the firm ball stage.

 7) Now, a drop of mixture forms a shape rather like a tadpole.

 8) At this stage, when the ball is removed from the water you can roll it between the fingers and it forms a firm ball.

 You are ready to pour the toffee into the pan and let it cool. Remember to cut it while it's still fairly malleable. Then chill. The toffee is much easier to remove from the pan when it's cold.

 Low bush cranberries lend beautiful colour to the dried fruit mixture

You gather whatever dried fruits and nuts you can from the Riverside Grocery in Whitehorse, from The Northern Store in Inuvik, from the Arctic Ventures store in Iqaluit, from the care packages sent by southern rellies, or from the bulk order you make with your food co-op. And then you find a basic recipe you can believe in, throw in your raisins and apricots, your pineapples and mangoes, add some dried northern berries and then you mix it up. The rest is the madness of art. (Thank you, Henry James.)

 Small and crunchy organic pecans from a supplier in BC

The recipe here is based on Joy of Cooking’s Dark Fruit Cake II. I dried low-bush cranberries for this cake; I dried blueberries we picked last summer, I substituted half a cup of birch syrup for the same amount of brown sugar, and now I’ve joined the ranks of northern Christmas cake-e-teers, drumming up support for my own, made-up version. Here comes the recipe. If you want to read a Christmas cake story, scroll down to the very end. 

Boreal Christmas Cakes, fresh from the oven

Boreal Christmas Cake

(Adapted from Joy of Cooking’s Dark Fruit Cake II)

Though Joy posits this recipe makes 11 lbs. (5 kg. ) fruit cake, in my experience it’s more like about 9 ½ lbs (4.5 kg). Joy suggests two 8-inch (20 cm) tube pans and two 4 ½ x 8 inch (11 cm x 20 cm) loaf pans.

I used 2 shallow, rectangular 6-inch by 4-inch (15 cm x 10 cm) baking dishes, two 9-inch by 6-inch (23 cm x 15 cm) baking dishes and one 6-inch by 3-inch (15 cm x 7.5 cm) souffle dish. This variety lends present-giving options; for single-person households, larger households, and those in which Christmas cake is enjoyed by the few rather than the many.

The selection of pansPrepare the baking pans by buttering them first then cutting parchment paper to fit each dish with an overhang of about two inches. For round pans, cut a bottom circle and strips that reach over top of the sides by an inch.  

Step One: The Dried Fruit

Feel free to mix up the dried fruit combination, and also the spices. My friend Janet detests cloves; you may too. Substitute! Those of you lucky enough to live in the boreal forest, rejoice in the wild, tart,  flavour and deep crimson visual elements lent by the dried low bush cranberries. Those who have access to bog cranberries, especially organic dried bog cranberries, use them liberally.

¾ cup (180 mL) dried wild blueberries

1 ½ cups (375 mL) dried low bush cranberries

1 cup (250 mL) dried mango

2 cups (480 mL) currants

1 ¾ cups (380 ml) mission figs, chopped

2 cups (480 mL) dried apricots, chopped

2 cups (480 mL) Thompson raisins

¾ cup (180 mL crystallized ginger, chopped

1 cup (250 mL) red wine

½ cup (125 mL) brandy or cognac

The night before baking, prepare the dried fruit: Snip or chop the mango, figs, ginger and apricot. (Dip the scissors or knife in hot water periodically to reduce gumminess.)

Combine all the dried fruit, red wine and brandy or cognac in a medium-sized pot and stir well. Place the pot over a burner set at medium heat and cook--from the time the fruits begin to hiss, count five minutes. You want the mixture to heat through but not caramelize. Remove from heat, cover and let sit overnight at room temperature.

Fruit and batter combinedStep Two: The Batter

Wet Ingredients

This is the best Joy of Cooking advice ever, to be followed with total submission: have all ingredients at room temperature.

2 cups (1 lb, 454 gr) butter

1 ½ cups (375 mL) packed brown sugar

½ cup (125 mL) birch syrup

10 eggs, beaten

2 tbsp. (30 mL) vanilla

Cream the butter until fluffy, add sugar and cream until light. Add the birch syrup, eggs and vanilla and beat until thoroughly incorporated.

Dry Ingredients

6 cups (1.5 L) all-purpose flour

2 tsp (10 mL) salt

½ tsp (2.5 mL) baking soda

2 tsp (10 mL) cinnamon

1 tsp (5 mL) nutmeg

½ tsp (2.5 mL) mace

½ tsp (2.5 mL) coriander

½ tsp (2.5 mL) ground cloves

¼ tsp (1.2 mL) cardamom

3 cups chopped pecans

Sift the flour, salt, soda and spices together. Add to the butter and egg mixture, stir, then add the dried fruit and pecans. Mix well, calling on extra muscle, if available. (Hey you, quit chopping that wood/building that studio/carding that musk ox hair into wool and come stir some batter!)

 Chpped pecans, into the mix

Glop the batter into the prepared pans and press into the corners, using the back of your hand as a tool. (The back of the hand is cooler than the palm, and less apt to stick to the batter.)

Pans, glopped full.

If necessary, wet the hands with a bit of water.

Set the oven to 275F (135 C). Arrange two racks in the middle regions of the oven, and disperse the baking pans amongst them.

Time the cooking according to the size of your pans. I found the smaller pans (about ¾ lb (300 gr) of batter) took 45 minutes, the souffle dish (about 1 ½ lb (700 gr) batter) took 90 minutes, and the 9-inch x six-inch (about 2 ¾ lbs (1.3 kg) of batter) took a full two hours.

When the cakes are done, cool in the pan for 20 minutes on a rack then remove from the pans and cool completely, anywhere from two to three hours. (Yes, it’s a long day.)

Douse! Douse! And souse! Souse!

Step Three: The Dousing

Now, you’re ready to douse the cakes with spirits, wrap and store.

Spirits

2 cups (480 mL) good red wine

¾ cup (180 mL) brandy or cognac

Combine wine and brandy or cognac in a measuring cup with a good pouring spout.

Equipment

Cheesecloth

Aluminum Foil

For each cake, cut a double or triple thickness of cheesecloth big enough to wrap the cake like a present. Soak the cheesecloth in the wine and brandy mixture, squeezing out the excess liquid.

Lay a piece of tin foil out on the counter. Place the cheesecloth on the tin foil and the cake on top of the cheesecloth. Prick the cake with a toothpick at regular intervals. Slowly pour a tablespoon of the wine and brandy over top, letting the liquid sink into the cake. Turn the cake over and repeat. Wrap the cake in the cheesecloth, then in the tin foil. Repeat until all the cakes are soused and wrapped. Store in a cool, dark place.

Once a week, repeat the sousing ritual. Carry on with this nonsense for a full year, or stop after six weeks (or in my case, because I was late getting started, three weeks) break out the Christmas Cake, cut into slices and enjoy.

PS: Those of you who like Marzipan and Royal Icing on your Christmas cake, give me a few days and I will provide you with the recipe and method.

Now I must go and eat salmon. Adieu. (For Christmas Cake story, continue scrolling down.)

The cake is having a wee dram, why not you?

Christmas Cake: The Moveable Feast

The first time I made Christmas cake was in December 1981 on the island of Alonissos in Greece. I was 25 and it was my second Christmas away from home. My boyfriend Nikos and I had just bought a new, orange-and-black speckled aluminum wood stove that had an oven. This revolutionized our cooking. Until then we had done everything on a two-burner counter-top propane-fueled stove. We were pretty excited about having an oven. Me in particular. Now I could make Christmas cake.

The Rooftops of Patitiri, with Two Brothers in the distance, and Scanzura out of sight behind. That's Skyros in the distance.

On the Day of the Night of the Christmas cake I read the Joy of Cooking, made a list and walked down to Patitiri to scour the pantopoleions (“sell-everything” stores) for currants, raisins, apricots, dried figs, almonds, cinnamon, ginger and cloves.

At 4 pm Nikos left for the isle of Scanzoura on a fishing trip with his cousin Yiannis Mavros, who was afraid of ghosts. (Many of the men in Nikos’ family were afraid of ghosts.) He would be gone all night. I got busy: chopped fruit, soaked the fruit in Metaxa, chopped nuts, beat eggs, combined wet ingredients with dry, drank Metaxa, and wrestled with my own ghosts—the ghosts of Christmases past, who were alive and well and havng Christmas without me at our family ski cabin in Ontario.

Oh, how I missed them!

I put the cakes into our new oven and wrote those ghosts some letters, starting with my ex-boyfriend, who still haunted the chambers of my heart. I wrote my mom and dad, I wrote my brothers, I wrote my little sister, reaching out to all of them from my uncertain new life, of which no one approved. I drank Metaxa. I turned the Christmas cakes so they would cook evenly in the uneven heat, which blazed up to 250C or sank down to a sleepy 120C. I drank more Metaxa. I turned the cakes. I wished my family was with me, or I was with them, or we were all together in a combination of our old and new lives.

At 6:30 in the morning Nikos came home, his net bag empty of fish. What happened? Why no fish? “Yiannis saw a light on the island of Sanzoura and became frightened. He was so scared he shook. I couldn’t make him stay.We came home without even throwing down a net. Eight hours and not one fish!” Never mind, I said. Here is a glass of Metaxa. And here are six Christmas cakes. "Bravo Michelaki,"said Nikos.

We gave a cake to Nikos' sister Evanthea and her kids. They asked, "Michele, could you not have put more nuts and raisins in this cake?" This was a joke, repeated often.

Now I’m in my Whitehorse kitchen, making a Christmas cake again. I do not have Metaxa. I have V.S.O.P Napoleon Five Star brandy. But every time I sluice brandy over the cakes I’m reaching back into that old Alonissos kitchen, back into the kitchen at the ski cabin in southern Ontario, back into the old stories, the old lives and the new lives we’re living now.

And so the doors open to the Museum of Nostalgia. Come in! Please, help yourself to cake.

  House of the kitchen where was baked the Boreal cake

 Good night! Have fun watching This Hour! (Whee! we're decorating the tree tonight!)

Super starter from Haida GwaiiWe are going to take full advantage of its power and make sourdough hot-cross buns. Here’s the difficulty: I made them last year and they were fabulous, but I cannot find the recipe. However a search through the echoing halls of the interweb has turned up a simple and straightforward version that does not use a kilo of flour or such arcane steps as sautéing the spices in butter. Here’s a pic of last year’s buns, and a link to the recipe we’re experimenting with.

 Last Year's Model

Other Easter cookery today features a monster turkey from northern Alberta that looks like it has been in a few barnyard brawls.

Bad Bad Leroy BrownWhoa. That’s some bird. We’re going to stuff it (all hands on deck to pull the bread) with my mother’s traditional bread, onion, butter and summer savoury mixture than which I have never tasted better. Highbush cranberry jelly and apple and red currant jelly from the trees and bushes around here will accompany the bird, and for dessert, apple upside down cake with crème fraiche and saffron-rosewater ice cream (either or both, your choice).

Michelle R's upside down apple cake

I’m really happy my sister is here, living in my basement, and my friend Yvette, visiting from afar. How’s your Easter going?



Hi all, I'll be in a bookstore near you this season with The Boreal Gourmet, reading, signing, entertaining. Come and see me! I would love to see you.

November 13, Whitehorse
12:00-2:00 pm, Mac’s Fireweed, 203 Main Street

November 20, Whitehorse
11:00-5:00 pm, Spruce Bog, Canada Games Centre

November 23, Edmonton
7:30 pm Audreys Bookstore, 710702 Jasper Ave.

November 25, Calgary
7:00 pm, Owl’s Nest Books, 815 49 Ave SW

November 27, Saskatoon
2:00 pm, McNally Robinson Bookstore, 3130 Eighth St. E

November 29, Winnipeg
7:30 pm, McNally Robinson Bookstore, 1120 Grant Avenue

December 2, Ottawa
6:00-8:00 pm, Collected Works Bookstore, 1242 Wellington St.

December 6, Toronto
6:00-8:00 pm Ben McNally Books 366 Bay Street

December 11, Collingwood
5:00 to 7:00 pm, Crow’s Nest Books and Gifts 239 Hurontario Street

Scorched tomatoes, soon to be tomato jam

On November 1, 2010 I taught a tapas class (aka hors d'oeuvres) for the City of Whitehorse, and this is what we made. Thanks to Lucy Waverman, Amanda Hesser, Paula Wolfert, smartie pants students and boreal cooking pals for inspiration.

Chevre-Parmesan Rounds with Tomato Jam

Tomato Jam

(Adapted from Paula Wolfert)

Exotic, mysterious and wonderful.

4 lbs. (scant 2 kilos) ripe red tomatoes

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil

3 Tbsp. (45 ml) wildflower honey

½ tsp. (2.5 ml) ground cinnamon

1 tsp. (5 ml) orange blossom water

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) toasted sesame seeds

Preheat oven to 450F. Wash the tomatoes. Place tomatoes stem-side down on a baking sheet and roast until charred and soft, about one hour. Cool.

Have two bowls ready, one for the tomato pulp, one for the peel and seeds. Peel a tomato (this will be easy) then grasp it by the stem end in your fingers, hold it over the pulp bowl and section it the way you would an orange, peeling the flesh off in pieces and letting them fall into the bowl.

You will be left with the core and the seeds clinging to it in your fingers—hold this over the second bowl and scrape the seeds out with your fingers, then pinch the hard stem-piece off the core with your finger and thumb, drop it into the seed and skin bowl, and  drop the remaining core into the first bowl with the pulp. Don’t worry if some seeds are mixed in with the pulp.

When you’ve repeated with all the tomatoes, press the peel and seeds mixture through a strainer into the pulp—there’s too much good, rich, charred tomato flavour here to waste. (Reserve whatever remains in the strainer for stock.) With a knife or the edge of a spatula, coarsely chop the pulp right in the bowl.

Heat the oil in a cast-iron frying pan over medium heat until it shimmers. Add the tomato pulp, and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently and mashing with a fork or spatula, until all the liquid has evaporated and the mixture is just beginning to brown, from 10 to 15 minutes.

Remove from heat, briefly, and mix in the honey and cinnamon. Return to heat for 1 minute, remove from heat and let cool. Add the orange blossom water. Serve in a large flat bowl, sprinkled with sesame seeds.

 OR

Spoon onto Chevre-Parmesan Rounds, sprinkle with sesame seeds, arrange on a platter, pass and wait for the oohs and aahs.

Chevre-Parmesan Rounds

(Adapted from Lucy Waverman)

½ cup (scant 4 oz, 115 gr) soft chevre

1/2 cup (4 oz, 125 gr) cold unsalted butter, cubed

½ cup (1 oz, 28 gr) grated parmesan

1 ¼ cups (320 ml) all-purpose flour

2 tsp. (10 ml) cracked fennel seeds

1 to 2 Tbsp. (15-30 ml) cold water

Preheat oven to 400F. Pulse all ingredients except water in a food processor until the mixture resembles coarse corn meal with a few larger lumps. Sprinkle one tablespoon water over top, pulse, and pinch mixture together—if it holds together, stop here, if not, add another tablespoon of water.

Form dough into a ball, cut in two for ease of handling and roll out each piece to about 1/8 inch thick between two layers of waxed paper. Cut into 1 or 2-inch rounds. Continue to roll and cut until all the dough is used up. Bake rounds at 400F for 10 to 12 minutes, until slightly browned. Cool on a rack. Spoon tomato jam on top and sprinkle with sesame seeds. 

Makes about 30 2-inch rounds or 60 1-inch rounds.

Prosciutto and Arugula Rolls

(Suggested by Laurel Parry)

This is a quick and easy appetizer, great for keeping the hordes at bay while you prepare the more complex items in your repertoire.

3 to 4 cups baby arugula

1 Tbsp. (15 ml) wild raspberry or balsamic vinegar

1 Tbsp. (15 ml) hazelnut or olive oil

12 slices prosciutto (about 125 gr)

Toss arugula with oil and vinegar. Cut each slice of prosciutto in half. Place about a tablespoon of arugula at the end of each half and roll up into a fairly tight roll. Arrange on a serving platter. (If you run out of arugula, or it’s out of season, stick whatever greens you like in there—baby romaine and cilantro, watercress and radish greens, sprouts-anything peppery or tangy. The boreal touch here is the wild raspberry vinegar.)

 Makes 24 rolls.

Bison Kofta Kebabs

½ cup (125 ml) breadcrumbs

1 lb (454 gr) ground bison, moose, caribou, elk or beef

1 tsp. (2.5 ml) ground cumin

½ tsp. (2.5 ml) ground allspice (or a combination of nutmeg and cloves)

1 tsp. (5 ml) dried mint or 1 Tbsp. chopped fresh mint

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) parsley, finely chopped

1 egg, beaten

1 Tbsp. (15 ml) olive oil

½ tsp. (2.5 ml) teaspoon salt

½ tsp. (2.5 ml) pepper

*boreal  ingredient: 2 Tbsp. (30 ml) highbush cranberry jelly

 12 to 18 wooden skewers, either 6-inch or 12-inch size

Put skewers to soak in water at least 2 hours before you intend to barbecue or grill the kebabs. Mix all ingredients together with a fork until blended, using a light hand. Form mixture into 12 oblong patties if you’re using longer skewers (2 such skewers are good for a meal-size serving) or 18 if you’re using the shorter ones. . Press each patty lengthwise around a skewer, extending it evenly along the skewer. (You want the meat to stay as firmly adhered to the skewer as possible.)

In the oven: Place the highest rack 6 inches below the broiler element, and preheat the broiler at high for 5 minutes. Place kebabs on a lightly oiled baking tray (no parchment paper, it burns at high heat). Broil for 2 minutes, remove from oven, turn kebabs cooked-side down, and broil another 2  minutes. If necessary, keep them in 1 or 2 minutes longer, but watch closely lest they burn.

On the barbecue: preheat the barbecue at high for five minutes. Brush grill with oil. Turn heat to medium-high. Place kebabs on grill. Grill on one side for 2 minutes, turn with a pair of tongs, grill another 3 minutes. Be prepared for the skewer ends to scorch and even burn through—hence the tongs for turning.

Place cooked kebabs on a warmed platter, wait a couple of minutes to allow kebabs to continue cooking off the heat, and serve with spiced yogurt on the side. 

Makes 12 large or 18 smaller kebabs.

Spiced Yogurt

1 cup (240 ml) plain yogurt, preferably organic

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) tahini

1 tsp. (5 ml) ground cardamom

1 tsp. (5 ml) ground coriander

1 tbsp. (15 ml) lime or lemon juice

1 tsp. (5 ml) hot sauce such as sambal oelek (the cooking class team added another ½ tsp.)

½ tsp. (2.5 ml) salt

Whisk ingredients together until thoroughly combined, chill until ready to serve.

Makes about 1 ¼ cups (320 ml).

Note: serve kofta and yogurt with grilled or warmed pita, cut into four or six triangles. 

 Lamb and Pita Triangles

(Adapted from Amanda Hesser)

1 lb. (454 gr) ground lamb

3 Tbsp. (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil

6 green onions, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

¼ cup (60 ml) chopped parsley

½ cup (125 ml) chopped cilantro

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) chopped mint

1 Tbsp. (15 ml) tomato paste or *boreal ingredient: rosehip puree

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) Dijon mustard

Grated zest of 1 lemon

Salt and pepper to taste

6 flat (pocketless) pitas or 4 large slices Naan bread

Preheat oven to 425F. Mix all ingredients except pita together. (Can be made ahead to this point and chilled. If so, bring mix to room temperature before next step.) Spread thinly over pita or naan bread to within ¼ inch of the edge. Place on baking sheets and bake in oven until lamb is cooked and pita is toasted on the edges, about 10 minutes. Unload onto a cutting board and slice into 8 wedges. Serve at once, with Roasted Beet Tzatziki on the side.

Roasted Beet Tzatziki

(Thanks to E. Cairns)

2 medium beets, peeled and quartered

1 tsp. (5 ml) olive oil

½ tsp. (2.5 ml) salt

1 clove garlic, minced 

1 Tbsp. (15 ml) chopped fresh dill (optional)

1 ½ cups (365 ml) thick yogurt

Toss the beets with oil and roast in a hot (400F) oven for about 30 minutes. Cool and grate into a medium-sized bowl. Finely chop any pieces of beet that don’t make it through the grater and add to the bowl. Stir in the garlic and salt, and dill if using. Scoop the yogurt from the container in such a way that the watery whey is left behind, and fold into the beet mixture. Chill for an hour or two before serving.  

 Makes about 2 cups. 

Potato-Apple Latkes with Smoked Salmon

and Wasabi Crème Fraîche

(From The Boreal Gourmet)

These gorgeous little numbers are a dynamite appetizer to serve at a party: they look great on a platter, and if you make the latkes small enough, can be eaten in one bite, thereby reducing your guests’ cocktail party anxiety. The secret is to bake, not fry!

1 lb (454 gr) Yukon Gold potatoes peeled and quartered

1 medium onion, peeled, quartered

½ small celery root (celeriac) peeled and cut into slices (optional)

1 medium Granny Smith apple (unpeeled), cored and quartered

1 large egg

1 green onion, finely chopped

¾ tsp (4 ml) salt

½ tsp (2.5 ml) black pepper

¼ cup (60 ml) all purpose flour

Preheat oven to 400F (205C). Line a colander with a tea towel or cheesecloth and place the colander in a bowl. Using a processor fitted with the grating blade, coarsely grate potatoes, onion, celery root and apple at the same time. Dump the mixture into the tea towel in the colander. (Alternatively, grate the vegetables and apple with a hand grater directly into the cloth-lined colander) Gather towel tightly around potato mixture and squeeze out as much liquid as you can into the bowl. Discard the liquid. Add the egg, green onion, salt and pepper, mix well, then add the flour and toss to blend.

Line baking sheets with parchment paper. Drop spoonfuls of the latke mixture onto baking sheets, aiming for a bite-sized piece, about half a tablespoon. Flatten each mound slightly with the spoon. Bake for about 8 minutes, remove from oven, turn over, and bake another 8 minutes. (If you like, brush the top side with melted butter, flip, and brush the other side; this will lend a bit of that traditional, fried latke sensation that some can’t live without.)

Wasabi Crème Fraiche

 1 tsp (5 mL) wasabi powder

½ cup (125 mL) crème fraîche

6 oz (170 gr) thinly sliced smoked salmon

Capers or thinly sliced green onion

While latkes are cooking, mix the wasabi powder with a small amount of crème fraiche until blended, then add the rest of the crème fraiche and mix lightly. Taste and add more wasabi, if you like a hotter version.

Cool latkes briefly, then top each one with a small pile of smoked salmon, a dab of wasabi crème fraiche and a caper or a couple of slices of green onion.

Makes 65-75 pieces

Shrimp, Halloumi and Tomato Skewers

New Boreal Gourmet Recipe!

Marinade

2 Tbsp. *boreal ingredient--fireweed honey or other wildflower honey

Juice of one-half a lime

24 medium-sized shrimp, peeled and deveined

24 grape tomatoes

8 slices  Halloumi* cheese, about ¼-inch thick

2 Tbsp. olive oil

 *boreal ingredient--Lendrum-Ross Halloumi goat cheese is available at the Fireweed Market in Whitehorse during the summer and at Alpine Bakery until December

12 wooden skewers

Glaze

1 Tbsp fireweed honey

1 Tbsp lime juice

Marinate the shrimp for half an hour in honey and lime juice. While the shrimp are marinating, prepare the Halloumi: heat the oil in a cast-iron pan until it shimmers, add the cheese slices. Saute for 3 minutes on one side, flip and sauté 3 minutes more. Remove and drain on paper towel. When cool, cut each Halloumi slice into four squares.

Drain shrimp, discard the marinade and pat shrimp dry. Onto each skewer, thread a shrimp, a piece of Halloumi and a tomato, and repeat. Mix the lime juice with the honey and brush each skewer with the mixture.

In the oven: Place the highest rack 6 inches below the broiler element, and preheat the broiler at high for 5 minutes. Place skewers on baking tray (no parchment paper, it burns at high heat). Broil for 2 minutes, remove from oven, turn kebabs cooked-side down, coat with glaze once more and broil another 2 minutes.

On the barbecue: preheat the barbecue at high for five minutes. Brush grill with oil. Place kebabs on grill. Reduce heat to medium. Grill skewers on one side for 2 minutes, turn with a pair of tongs, grill another 2 minutes, or until shrimp are no longer translucent

Remove from heat, let stand for a couple of minutes and serve.

Makes 12 skewers.

 Bittersweet Chocolate Crostini

(Adapted from Amanda Hesser)

½ baguette

Olive oil

2 bars good quality bittersweet chocolate

Coarse salt or fleur de sel

Slice the baguette on the diagonal into 24 ¼ -inch slices.  Place on baking sheets and broil at high for 2 minutes. Remove from oven, turn toasts over, brush the untoasted side with olive oil and place a square of chocolate on the untoasted side. Reduce heat to 350F, return toasts to oven and cook until chocolate is melted but still holds its shape—2 to 3 minutes. Remove from oven and sprinkle with a few grains of  coarse salt. Amanda Hesser suggests that you do a tester to get the amount right—enough to enhance the taste of chocolate without making it salty.  

(Illustrations by Laurel Parry)

Breakfast-eaters, snackers, hangers-out:  it’s time to reclaim the muffin from the fast-food joints and even from the groovy independent cafes.  

Muffins should not be as big as your head, as my friend LP observes. When I was a child a muffin was a 6-bite morsel available in the glass case in the cafeteria or on the counter at the greasy spoon. Now it is an epic that requires a whole morning to consume, and you have to mount an expedition to find the nuts and berries inside. So here are two recipes for muffins of sensible size that feature wild northern berries, are easy to make, low on fat and sugar and bursting with healthy grains. They are similar but not the same.  

 Low Bush Cranberry Bran Muffins

On a blazing blue day last week I climbed the clay cliffs above Whitehorse and picked a pint of low bush cranberries before breakfast. I came back home with cold fingers and an appetite and whipped up these bran muffins, based on a recipe from that brilliant standby, Joy of Cooking, but tweaked here and there. I’m really pleased with them; they remind me of my grandmother’s bran muffins, for which the recipe is lost (my mother and my aunt have searched their files in vain) and which I’ve been trying to replicate for a long time. Let us sing their praises: light, moist, not too sweet, branny but not too branny and featuring the nice tart bite of low bush cranberries.

Dry Ingredients

1 cup (240 ml) all-purpose flour

1 cup (240 ml) whole wheat flour

1 cup (240 ml) bran

2 Tbsp. (30 ml) sugar

1 tsp. (5 ml) baking soda

¼ tsp. (1.2 ml) salt

Liquid Ingredients

1 cup (240 ml) buttermilk

1/3 cup (80 ml) birch syrup or molasses

1 egg, beaten

3 Tbsp. (45 ml) melted butter

Finally, the Berries: 

1 cup (240 ml) low bush cranberries (substitute blueberries, raspberries, dried currants or raisins)

Mix dry ingredients together. Beat wet ingredients and add to dry with a few quick strokes. Before the dry ingredients are fully moist, incorporate the berries and give the mix a couple more strokes. Drop from a spoon into buttered muffin cups. Bake at 350F for about 25 minutes. Let cool in the muffin tin for a few minutes, then loosen with a knife around the rim and serve. These keep well for three or four days, but on the fourth day are best warmed up. 

Makes 12 3-inch muffins. 

our little town of Whitehorse, mid-September

Sourdough Banana-Blueberry-Oatmeal-Bran Muffins

These muffins are a modification of the Sourdough Scones in The Boreal Gourmet. They were created one September weekend after the blueberry harvest, when my friend the Egg Man challenged me to come up with a sourdough muffin recipe, and our local supermarket was pleading with us to take away crates of browning bananas. Very yummy.

Mix:

1 cup (240ml) active sourdough starter

1 cup (240 ml) buttermilk

1 cup (240ml) all-purpose flour

Stir together and add:

3 Tbsp. (45 ml) sugar

1 tsp. (5 ml) salt

2 tsp. (10 ml) baking powder

1 tsp. (5 ml) baking soda

Beat together and add:

2 mashed ripe bananas (about 1 to ½ cups (240 to 370 ml))

1 egg, beaten

3 Tbsp. (45 ml) melted butter

 Fold in:

1 cup (240 ml) rolled or quick-cook oats

1 cup (240 ml) bran

½ cup (125 ml) all-purpose flour

Finally, add:

1 cup (240 ml) wild blueberries

Spoon into buttered muffin cups and bake for 25 minutes at 375F. Let cool in the muffin tin for a few minutes, then loosen with a knife around the rim and serve.

Makes 12 3-inch muffins.

Highbush cranberries on the 9th Avenue Trail in Dawson, the weekend of the Dawson City Music Festival, mid-July.

It's the Labour Day weekend, time of nostalgia and busyness as we reflect on summer and summers past and get ready for the winter with our twitchy berry-picking fingers. We're well into the Yukon fall, the blueberry harvest is almost done and the lowbush cranberries are not quite ready. Now's the time to wander in search of the highbush cranberry, best-loved northern berry for its converts, of which I am one. Pickers, don't be sad if you only get a few cups; highbush jelly sets best when cooked in small quantities.

Mary Beattie's Highbush Cranberry Jelly (from The Boreal Gourmet)

Six cups (1440ml) highbush cranberries; water to cover

Boil the berries until they look like they’re getting ready to burst, let them cool slightly, and then strain them through a jelly bag. (You can break them with a potato masher or pastry cutter before straining. And don’t be afraid to squeeze the jelly bag, unless you want the classic super-clear jelly that the old fashioned jelly makers like.) Then combine: 

 4 cups (960ml) juice

3 cups (740ml) white sugar

Bring to the boil and then simmer the jelly until it pops, or coats a spoon, or both: anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour on the electric or gas stove, and up to three hours on a slow wood stove. Pour into sterilized jars, seal and do the boiling water bath as usual.

A Cranberry Tale

It was late May and my husband’s birthday. We had just arrived back from Scotland, the larder was bare and I had zero energy for cake-making. So I went to the big yellow supermarket,  bought a frozen, store-brand plain cheesecake and bore it home to our kitchen in Whitehorse with feelings of hope and misgiving, for I didn’t have a topping. The strawberries were in from southern lands but I knew from experience they would be tasteless, jacked-up greenhouse specimens; it was only May, after all.

As foreseen, once yon cake was defrosted and on the plate, it looked forlorn and badly in need of dressing up for the party. What to do? How to fix, with not much time and no fresh berries? I rummaged amongst the half-jars of marmalades, chutneys and jams on the top shelf of the fridge and there at the back found a jar of our friend P’s first efforts at highbush cranberry jelly, given to us by his wife a couple of years ago and never used because it was too stiff to spread and we didn’t know what to do with it.    

P is not the person who usually makes the jelly in the family. As his wife said, “He didn’t really know when to stop, so he just cooked it and cooked it.”  Yes he did; he cooked that jelly until it was black tar, thick and sticky enough to pave roads, with a texture reminiscent of the tar bubbles my older brother and I used to break and chew as children. 

Those bubbles rose in the tar that filled the cracks in the empty wading pool in Oriole Park in Toronto, on hot June days before summer really started, before the handsome 18-year-old Park Supervisor came the day after Canada Day and filled the wading pool with water. When he was done he sat on the picnic bench and played his transistor radio, and thus was summer launched. All summer long the hits rolled out, Baby I Love You and I Want My Baby Back and Roses Are Red, My Love, songs we kids thrilled to as we inhaled the smell of chlorine and fluoride and flung ourselves into the cold water of the municipal wading pool, our tiny summer heaven. 

On hot summer days in the village north of Glasgow when my husband was a boy the tar on the macadam roads shimmered in the sun and accumulated in pools, and its shiny darkness was irresistible to small boys, who plunged their hands in and came home covered in glorious black globs, to the despair of their mothers. This was in the mid-fifties, when the older brothers lounged in lawn chairs and listened to American pop or Lonnie Donegan’s cover of Leadbelly’s Rock Island Line on the family radio, while the bees buzzed over the berry bushes in their mother’s garden, and no-one dreamed that the tarry miscreant sauntering up the lane would end up in the Yukon and celebrate his sixty-fourth birthday with store-bought cheesecake and too-stiff highbush cranberry jelly made by a transplanted Californian of similar vintage.   

Party time

I heated P’s jelly in the microwave for about 10 seconds until it loosened and relaxed and looked like this:

loosenedPerfect for pouring over a piece of plain cheesecake, sliced at the table after the man of the hour blew out the lone candle that stood for the accumulation of years. Then, because no birthday is complete without chocolate, I grated some 90% cacao chocolate over top, and this is how it turned out.

The combo won two thumbs up from the celebrant, though he did muse aloud about the possibility of using milk chocolate instead, whose kinder, sweeter flavour he tends to prefer….

The thing about highbush cranberry jelly when it’s cooked this much is that it becomes candy, the most delicious, intense, berry-like candy, with a hint of burnt-sugar smokiness. If you get to this stage in your jelly-making, don’t worry. You have a fabulous topping on your hands, for those moments when you need a last-minute dessert sauce for a plain cheesecake or vanilla ice cream or lemon pound cake. But if you’re not lucky enough to have some tarry high-bush cranberry jelly on hand, rummage around for one of those forgotten jars of red-currant or black-currant or damson jelly at the back of your fridge, stream some old Bobby Vinton tunes to achieve the right nostalgic atmosphere (the resident Scot says, try the Kinks) and prepare to whoop it up in fine style. 

Phyllo pastry piled up high

Failed Goat's Milk Mascarpone becomes Galaktoboureko, or Greek custard pie

I picked up 2 litres of fresh goat’s milk from Brian Lendrum at the Fireweed Market a couple of weeks ago—Brian and his partner Susan Ross raise goats at their farm on Lake Laberge--and tried to make mascarpone cheese, something I’ve wanted to do for ages. But the attempt failed, possibly due to overheating the milk, due in turn to a candy thermometer that got stuck on 150F and never moved, though the milk was clearly nearing a boil. But more on mascarpone later—I’ve ordered another 2 litres for this coming Thursday, and will try again.

In the meantime I had 4 cups of goat milk and 2 cups of 35 percent cream, heated and cooled down, looking for a home, and so I decided to try…galaktoboureko! that famous and well-loved Greek custard pie, alternately called “Semolina Cream Pie” or “Vanilla Cream Pie” or “Phyllo-Custard Pie” depending on the cookbook. The distinguishing ingredients are milk, eggs, semolina, phyllo pastry and simple syrup flavoured with lemon, cinnamon or orange, sometimes orange blossom water, and sometimes, rosewater. Quantities range from 2 to 6 eggs, 4 to 6 cups of milk and ½ to 1 cup of semolina, according to the recipe.

Because I had 6 cups of milk/cream, I used the high end of the quantities range for milk, semolina and eggs. (The lovely fresh eggs were from The Egg Lassie's Americauna chickens, raised n Echo Valley, just a few kilometres up the Alaska Highway from Whitehorse.)

I combined the method from one recipe and quantities from another, and though it was not an unmitigated success, here, for the record, is what I did, with corrections built in, now that I think I’ve figured out the mistakes (see below).

Galaktoboureko

Syrup

1 cup (240 ml) rose petal syrup, straight from the jar, no need to heat it up (I had some left over from the 2009 harvest)

or

1 cup (240 ml) water

1 cup (240 ml) sugar

½ cup (125 ml) lemon juice

½ stick of cinnamon or ¼ tsp (1 ml) rosewater

Combine first three ingredients in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat and stir until sugar dissolves. Add the cinnamon or rosewater and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. Set aside to cool.  

Custard

1 cup (240 ml) semolina flour

4 cups (1 L) 2 % goat’s milk*

2 cups (480 ml) 35 percent cream*

5 eggs

1 cup (240 ml) sugar

2 tsp (10 ml) vanilla extract

2 Tbsp melted butter

* (The milk and cream combo was left over from the mascarpone experiment; normally you’d just use 2% milk from a cow, sheep or goat.)

Heat the milk over medium heat until warm, about 5 minutes, then gradually add semolina, whisking constantly. Allow to come to the boil, still whisking, until the mixture thickens, about 4 minutes. Whisk in the melted butter. Remove from heat and let cool slightly while you do the next step.

Beat the eggs until lemon coloured and foamy, about 4 minutes. Still beating, gradually add the sugar and beat until thoroughly combined, about 2 minutes. Add the vanilla and beat another minute.

Now add the warm milk and semolina mixture to the eggs, beating constantly. Set aside.

Thickened milk and semolina mixture goes into egg mixture

Pastry

9 sheets commercial phyllo pastry

1/3 cup (80 ml) unsalted butter

Unwrap the phyllo pastry, unfold it and lay it out on the counter under a kitchen towel or tea cloth to prevent it from drying out while you work. Melt the butter.

Lay one sheet of phyllo on the counter and brush with melted butter. Layer another sheet on top, brush with butter and repeat until you have 3 buttered sheets. Place in a deep 10-inch pie or cake pan, pressing lightly into the base of the pan.

Butter another three sheets, then lay them in the pan across the first three, like a cross—this is so there is a good few inches of phyllo hanging over the sides of the entire tin. 

Pour the custard into the pan. Leave the phyllo hanging over the edge.

Lay another piece of phyllo on the counter, brush with butter, fold in half and brush with butter again. Place on the surface of the custard. Repeat with two more sheets of phyllo. Now tuck any corners of the top sheets over the custard, and fold the over-hanging bottom layers over the top layers.

Brush the whole top thoroughly with butter once more, and score the top couple of layers into diamond shapes with a very sharp knife. This is difficult to do, but persevere, because the pie will then be so much easier to cut after it’s baked.

Bake in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes, until the top is golden brown.

See the custard oozing on the left side? So exciting, until the collapse.

Place on a rack and pour the cooled syrup over top. Let sit until completely cooled, cut and serve.

This is how it will look after the family has descended:

Decimated

Taster comments:

The Expeditor: (always on the look-out for an alternative to chocolate) Unbelievably good. I love the slightly grainy texture of the custard. The flavour is exquisite, especially the hint of rose combined with vanilla.

The girlfriends, post moderately strenuous exercise:

The Sous-Chef: Oh, I'm having another piece! It doesn't hurt your teeth. (The Sous-Chef had just returned from travels in eastern lands.)

The Egg Lassie: (who is of Scottish and Dutch descent) In Holland when someone has a birthday you buy a big box of individual pastries. Custard is often involved, and Dutch pastries are never too sweet. That's what I like about this pie. I would make this pie.

The Designer: I'm sorry, I'm going to eat the last piece. 

Me: Sweet, mild and milky, and I love the occasional busting-out of rose flavour. The presentation has not yet achieved dinner party quality but for family and ravenous girlfriends it's just the ticket.

Renovations and Revisions

So, what were the mistakes? 1) I didn’t wrap the bottom layers over the top layers 2) I beat the egg and sugar mixture until it was too big and airy, resulting in 3)the custard rose and rose in the oven, causing jubilation in the kitchen, but then it fell and fell as it cooled, leaving a gap between custard and the floating top layers—floating because the bottom layers weren’t folded overtop and 4) I had at least 2 cups of custard left over.

Next time I’ll try just 4 cups (1L) milk, 4 eggs and ½ cup semolina, and will beat the eggs only as long as indicated, above.

Readers and cooks, favour me with your comments and observations, should you try this one out chez toi.

 After the girlfriends: destroyed