There are many perks to being a food writer, you get to eat a lot, people send you stuff they want you to eat a lot of, and on the odd chance someone sends you to a new city and you get eat a lot more there. If you like to eat and can string together a sentence this can be a fabulous career.
I've eaten sockeye salmon in my home town of Vancouver, bison in Calgary, wild boar in Saskatoon, any number of edibles in Toronto, and lobster in Halifax, but I have never been lucky enough to fly to another country and eat my way through a culture. Until today, I am on my way to New Orleans to learn more about my house staple, rice.
Like any good Type A personality I'm at the airport three hours early, the only glitch is that I'm actually at the Gate three hours early; which in airport time is really something more akin to six hours early. I guess I'm more excited than I thought. Think I'll go and get a coffee.
Two hours and fifty minutes before boarding sitting at the Gate:
I bumped into Tim Matheson, the actor now director, at Starbucks. He was right behind me at the counter. My husband had auditioned for him on a Friday night in the summer and was shocked to see him at the audition. Most auditions on a Friday night, especially in the summer, would only include the actor, a reader, and the cameraman never the director. So we were both extremely impressed that Mr. Matheson was there and according to my husband he was gracious and an all-round great guy. So I introduced myself, told him the story, then felt like a complete idiot and bolted. My husband was right, Mr. Matheson was a complete gentleman and extremely gracious, me, total goof.
Once I was in a film with Denis Leary and I was an even bigger idiot around him, I'm sure both he and Mr. Matheson haven't lost any sleep having met me, but I still cringe when I think of what I said to both of them.
Two hours before boarding still sitting at the Gate:
I have just figured out why they really want you to be at the airport for International Flights three hours early. It's not because of the security that now includes shoe removal and a pat down. No the real reason is because they want you to spend money. So far I've sunk $21.72 into a coffee, a breakfast muffin and 2 magazines. Yikes, if this keeps up I'll end up spending all of my souvenir money before I even leave Toronto.
One Hour and forty minutes before boarding:
One of the foodies has called me on my cell; apparently I'm a bigger Type A loser than I thought, I've been sitting at the wrong gate. I meet up with them and they look a lot fresher than me, I guess sleeping in until 8:00 a.m. instead of waking at the crack of 5:00 a.m. was a better idea, hopefully I'll sleep on the plane.
Forty minutes before boarding sitting at the new Gate:
Our flight has been cancelled due to mechanical difficulties. I'm okay with that, I'd really rather be onboard a plane that doesn't have any mechanical difficulties. Now all we have to do is to stand in a huge line up while they try to get us a new flight to somewhere that may in fact stop in New Orleans. People are very patient, very subdued, very, very Canadian.
One hour later:
Well. All I can say is well. We have a new flight, flights. That's one to Chicago and then another one to New Orleans and with any luck we will be there for a fabulous Cajun Rice dinner. I'm personally praying to the food gods for a huge alcoholic beverage that comes with a straw.
One hour before our supposed flight to Chicago takes off and at a different gate:
Why don't people listen to the gate announcers? How many pages can a person miss? Not hear? Ignore? Honestly if Mr. A'Cawcaw doesn't show up soon I'm going to go and yell his name into the men's bathroom and see who comes out.
Forty minutes before boarding sitting at yet another gate:
There are only about twenty people sitting at the gate. We are either at the right one and everyone else is lost or we will have to move again. I should have worn my pedometer I could really be raking up the steps. I'm getting really worried about Mr. A'Cawcaw. I think he may have had a heart attack trying to find the new gate.
In the plane somewhere over the midwest:
What are the chances that the only person on the plane who probably has H1N1 would be sitting beside me? I think they must have missed the government commercial on sneezing and coughing into your sleeve. If my calculations are accurate everyone in rows 1 to 10 has been contaminated. Hopefully it's just a cold; I guess I'll find out in about 3-7 days.
New Orleans:
We landed and it must be 32°C here. It's October 13, 2009 and it's hot, hazy, and humid. I think I'm finally going to get the Toronto summer we missed this year.
Drove through major traffic and passed a cemetery New Orleans style, all above ground graves. Historically the city is built on swamp land six feet below sea level and the bodies would keep floating up out of the graves so they built above ground tombs and slid the bodies in.
Met the rest of the foodies and we all headed off to Cochon, a popular southern style restaurant here in New Orleans, and indulged in oysters, pork, brisket, more pork, and fish. I tried the deep fried okra and yes, and even slimy okra becomes an amazing food when deep fried. I'm sure I gained at least three pounds tonight.
New Orleans Day II
Started with a cooking class at the Savvy Gourmet, on Magazine Street, and had the pleasure of being taught Creole and Cajun-style cooking by a New Orleans's icon,
Miss Poppy Tooker.
I really follow the belief that if you want to learn about a culture you need to understand what they cook and why. Poppy was the perfect Southern Food Ambassador. Not only was she a cooking teacher extraordinaire but a fabulous food historian. She is passionate about Southern cooking and a huge fan of rice.
She made us authentic mouth watering Gumbo, Jambalaya and Calas all rice dishes and then followed up with a New Orleans signature dessert: Banana Foster.
Cajun cooking may in fact be the first fusion cooking. The Acadians, a group of French-speaking Canadians were expelled from Nova Scotia by the British back in the 1700's. They made their way to the swamp lands of Louisiana via the Carolinas bringing rice along with them. They created a cuisine that fused their rustic French cooking style along with the local foods from Louisiana. The Cajuns were poor and extended meals by adding rice to their protein and local vegetables creating hearty spicy dishes that have survived the years and are still fabulous.
Gumbo is a hearty soup made with a southern roux, the Holy Trinity of southern cooking - onions, green peppers, and celery, then spices, some tomato, okra, chicken, and stock all simmered and then served over cooked rice. One taste and I understand why they call it Southern comfort food.
Jambalaya is really a jumble of seasoning veggies (The Trinity again: onion, green pepper and celery) cooked with spicy sausage, seasonings, rice and stock. As soon as I decipher my cooking notes and whip this dish up in my kitchen I'll be posting the recipe here at the Healthy Plate.
Traditional Calas are little bundles of leftover rice, combined with eggs, flour, and sugar and then deep fried like a donut or the popular New Orleans beignet. Poppy created a savoury version that we all devoured.
Bananas Foster aren't Cajun but they certainly are Southern. The flaming banana and brown sugar rum concoction served over ice cream was better than I ever remembered it from back in 1970's when just about every dinner restaurant had a version of it on their menu.
We ate our fill and I am now an official fan of Cajun cuisine.
Next week's blog - Part 2 of Adventures of a Food Writer
I've eaten sockeye salmon in my home town of Vancouver, bison in Calgary, wild boar in Saskatoon, any number of edibles in Toronto, and lobster in Halifax, but I have never been lucky enough to fly to another country and eat my way through a culture. Until today, I am on my way to New Orleans to learn more about my house staple, rice.
Like any good Type A personality I'm at the airport three hours early, the only glitch is that I'm actually at the Gate three hours early; which in airport time is really something more akin to six hours early. I guess I'm more excited than I thought. Think I'll go and get a coffee.
Two hours and fifty minutes before boarding sitting at the Gate:
I bumped into Tim Matheson, the actor now director, at Starbucks. He was right behind me at the counter. My husband had auditioned for him on a Friday night in the summer and was shocked to see him at the audition. Most auditions on a Friday night, especially in the summer, would only include the actor, a reader, and the cameraman never the director. So we were both extremely impressed that Mr. Matheson was there and according to my husband he was gracious and an all-round great guy. So I introduced myself, told him the story, then felt like a complete idiot and bolted. My husband was right, Mr. Matheson was a complete gentleman and extremely gracious, me, total goof.
Once I was in a film with Denis Leary and I was an even bigger idiot around him, I'm sure both he and Mr. Matheson haven't lost any sleep having met me, but I still cringe when I think of what I said to both of them.
Two hours before boarding still sitting at the Gate:
I have just figured out why they really want you to be at the airport for International Flights three hours early. It's not because of the security that now includes shoe removal and a pat down. No the real reason is because they want you to spend money. So far I've sunk $21.72 into a coffee, a breakfast muffin and 2 magazines. Yikes, if this keeps up I'll end up spending all of my souvenir money before I even leave Toronto.
One Hour and forty minutes before boarding:
One of the foodies has called me on my cell; apparently I'm a bigger Type A loser than I thought, I've been sitting at the wrong gate. I meet up with them and they look a lot fresher than me, I guess sleeping in until 8:00 a.m. instead of waking at the crack of 5:00 a.m. was a better idea, hopefully I'll sleep on the plane.
Forty minutes before boarding sitting at the new Gate:
Our flight has been cancelled due to mechanical difficulties. I'm okay with that, I'd really rather be onboard a plane that doesn't have any mechanical difficulties. Now all we have to do is to stand in a huge line up while they try to get us a new flight to somewhere that may in fact stop in New Orleans. People are very patient, very subdued, very, very Canadian.
One hour later:
Well. All I can say is well. We have a new flight, flights. That's one to Chicago and then another one to New Orleans and with any luck we will be there for a fabulous Cajun Rice dinner. I'm personally praying to the food gods for a huge alcoholic beverage that comes with a straw.
One hour before our supposed flight to Chicago takes off and at a different gate:
Why don't people listen to the gate announcers? How many pages can a person miss? Not hear? Ignore? Honestly if Mr. A'Cawcaw doesn't show up soon I'm going to go and yell his name into the men's bathroom and see who comes out.
Forty minutes before boarding sitting at yet another gate:
There are only about twenty people sitting at the gate. We are either at the right one and everyone else is lost or we will have to move again. I should have worn my pedometer I could really be raking up the steps. I'm getting really worried about Mr. A'Cawcaw. I think he may have had a heart attack trying to find the new gate.
In the plane somewhere over the midwest:
What are the chances that the only person on the plane who probably has H1N1 would be sitting beside me? I think they must have missed the government commercial on sneezing and coughing into your sleeve. If my calculations are accurate everyone in rows 1 to 10 has been contaminated. Hopefully it's just a cold; I guess I'll find out in about 3-7 days.
New Orleans:
We landed and it must be 32°C here. It's October 13, 2009 and it's hot, hazy, and humid. I think I'm finally going to get the Toronto summer we missed this year.
Drove through major traffic and passed a cemetery New Orleans style, all above ground graves. Historically the city is built on swamp land six feet below sea level and the bodies would keep floating up out of the graves so they built above ground tombs and slid the bodies in.
Met the rest of the foodies and we all headed off to Cochon, a popular southern style restaurant here in New Orleans, and indulged in oysters, pork, brisket, more pork, and fish. I tried the deep fried okra and yes, and even slimy okra becomes an amazing food when deep fried. I'm sure I gained at least three pounds tonight.
New Orleans Day II
Started with a cooking class at the Savvy Gourmet, on Magazine Street, and had the pleasure of being taught Creole and Cajun-style cooking by a New Orleans's icon,
Miss Poppy Tooker.
I really follow the belief that if you want to learn about a culture you need to understand what they cook and why. Poppy was the perfect Southern Food Ambassador. Not only was she a cooking teacher extraordinaire but a fabulous food historian. She is passionate about Southern cooking and a huge fan of rice.
She made us authentic mouth watering Gumbo, Jambalaya and Calas all rice dishes and then followed up with a New Orleans signature dessert: Banana Foster.
Cajun cooking may in fact be the first fusion cooking. The Acadians, a group of French-speaking Canadians were expelled from Nova Scotia by the British back in the 1700's. They made their way to the swamp lands of Louisiana via the Carolinas bringing rice along with them. They created a cuisine that fused their rustic French cooking style along with the local foods from Louisiana. The Cajuns were poor and extended meals by adding rice to their protein and local vegetables creating hearty spicy dishes that have survived the years and are still fabulous.
Gumbo is a hearty soup made with a southern roux, the Holy Trinity of southern cooking - onions, green peppers, and celery, then spices, some tomato, okra, chicken, and stock all simmered and then served over cooked rice. One taste and I understand why they call it Southern comfort food.
Jambalaya is really a jumble of seasoning veggies (The Trinity again: onion, green pepper and celery) cooked with spicy sausage, seasonings, rice and stock. As soon as I decipher my cooking notes and whip this dish up in my kitchen I'll be posting the recipe here at the Healthy Plate.
Traditional Calas are little bundles of leftover rice, combined with eggs, flour, and sugar and then deep fried like a donut or the popular New Orleans beignet. Poppy created a savoury version that we all devoured.
Bananas Foster aren't Cajun but they certainly are Southern. The flaming banana and brown sugar rum concoction served over ice cream was better than I ever remembered it from back in 1970's when just about every dinner restaurant had a version of it on their menu.
We ate our fill and I am now an official fan of Cajun cuisine.
Next week's blog - Part 2 of Adventures of a Food Writer
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