Spaghetti al Nero di Seppia

Or, Squid Ink Spaghetti, which sounds more palatable? This is one of my favourite pastas just because it's so different. It is durum wheat pasta infused with squid ink. I don't find it particularly fishy if fishy at all. The real deal - pasta cooked with fresh squid ink - is actually quite tangy (I've read). The prepared dried version really is jet black before cooking and lightens up a few shades when done.

This pasta is available at most Italian shops in bigger centers and I always replenish my stash when I go to Vancouver. It gives a little more drama to an ordinary veggie toss. I pan fried a couple of yellow courgettes, an orange and red pepper, a few snow peas with a good dollop of scape pesto. I also added a handful of chopped greens: parsley, chives, arugula. Post photo we added some grated Parmesan and some fresh chopped tomatoes. Made me happy just looking at it. All veggies grown in BC, all greens from my garden, the pasta - well - one of my small indulgences.

Food is Culture

You might be wondering when I plan to get off this quasi political rant... well, in short, never. But I will return to recipes soon enough.

I wanted to share - at least in photographic form - bread with you. Food blogs are a strange new take on sharing food through the written word and here's one word in particular to consider in the context of food as culture: companion. The struggle to get out from under over-zealous food regulations means more than just stickin' it to the man. It means making connections within your community with people who participate in your life at your table.

Here's an image of loaves of bread cooked in a wood fired oven here on Hornby. It was still warm when I bought it... and there could be so much more of all this. Artisanal food production adds so much to our lives, don't ya think?!

Who to contact to protest food oppression!

Ok, that might be a little dramatic, but we are talking about local butter tarts, local brownies, local oysters, fish, poultry and possibly even greens!

AND, here's a story: a Duncan poultry farmer used to have a butcher service come to his farm to ethically, humanely and properly butcher the chickens. His chickens lived well and died well. His former stat of 2% utility birds rose abruptly to 25% when regional laws dictated his chickens had to go to a central abattoir to be butchered. How is that even legal under the animal protection laws?

So this is who you should contact in protest with your story of your Farmers Market or food production woes:

Kevin Falcon, Minister of Health Services, at: HLTH.Health@gov.bc.ca
Steve Thomson, Minister of Agriculture and Lands, at: AGF.Webmaster@gov.bc.ca
Kevin Krueger, Minister of Tourism, Culture and the Arts, at: tca.minister@gov.bc.ca

Cut 'n paste kids. May Gaia be your guide!

Buy Contraband: Eat Local - if you can....

In the summers here on Hornby Island, a lively and spirited Farmers' Market becomes the focal point of Wednesday and Saturday mornings. Local farmers sell edible bouquets of roses and lettuce, weavers sell one-of-a-kind willow baskets, jewellers, potters and clothiers set up shop with other wonderfully crafted items. Underpinning our woodland market is the cup of coffee and freshly made scones, fresh from the oven focaccia and fig jam, as well as the freshly made and piping hot churros - an extruded doughnut dusted in crystals of sugar. But these delectables have fallen victim to the scourge plaguing Farmers' Markets all over the world: the health inspectors who represent over-vigilant health ministries.

We have very little in the way of an outdoor food culture in Canada. Why? We're over regulated. We're antiseptic addicts of the bacteria-free, sterilized silly, supermarket governed, big box purveyors of what we've come to accept as food. If it's not shiny clean it must be disgustingly dirty. If it's not regulation conforming, it will probably kill us. The fact of the matter is that food poisoning is the territory of big restaurants and large food manufacturers, not the small scale cook making a few brownies to sell at a Farmers Market. We are over governed and it is keeping us culturally sterile.

A young woman holding an oyster lease on Hornby Island cannot sell her oysters on Hornby without first sending them off island to be inspected. Chickens must be butchered off island then brought back here to sell. We can't buy fresh unpasteurized milk or cheese (legally) and all this flies in the face of the movement to Buy and Eat Local Food. Our regulations are out-dated and at odds with the new food consciousness rapidly developing in British Columbia and, in fact, around the world. We have to let government know that we don't need commercial kitchens to trust our food sources - we know the individuals making the food personally. We've been to their kitchens.

As for the tourists who visit the islands and have not had the chance to see our kitchens, adults can make choices for themselves and for their children. If it doesn't look good, don't eat it. Caveat emptor - but rest assured, we cook for our friends and families in our kitchens. Our food is fine. Let us eat our local food, prepared by local people who are making their own way in these tough times. Let government know you can think for yourself. Let them know you want to support local food purveyors don.mcrae.mla@leg.bc.ca

Warm Potato Salad

If the hot weather had persisted, tonight's barbecue would have included a cold new potato salad. But it turned rainy and chilly, so I adjusted the menu accordingly.

I took a quarter of a red onion, half a yellow pepper and lightly sauteed them in half 'n half olive oil and butter. That mix was set aside and in the same pan I toasted some pine nuts. All these ingredients were then put into the bottom of a wooden bowl, the cooled and previously cooked new potatoes were mixed in and topped off with finely sliced fresh green onion. A couple of twists of sea salt - Bob's yer uncle.

Strawberry Pistachio Tarts

I am not, nor have I ever been, anything close to a baker. Having admitted this, you'll notice the travesty of store-bought tart shells. The shame. The horror.

Yeah, whatever. These tarts took 15 minutes tops to make and that's good enough for me and my sweet toothed honey.

I cut up about 5c of fresh strawberries, stewed them for a couple of minutes until they were soft. I added a big dollop of honey, about a 1/3c of pistachios, let them soften just a smidgen, thickened the batch with arrowroot, put a heaping tablespoon into each of the tart shells and - just like that - we (after 20 minutes in the oven) had a fine St. Jean Baptiste Day dessert! Sante'!

Herb & Pine Nut Pilaf

I've come to realize a theme in my cooking, thanks to this blog. I seem to like to cut things up into tiny pieces and mix them together - not exactly a mind-blowing revelation, I know. But it is definitely a pattern. So, in keeping with the pattern, here is another dish with bits of things chopped up and combined.

Pilaf has an ancient and fascinating history that stretches across Asia and well into the Mediterranean. Having a rice cooker makes it super quick and feels like cheating when you consider the generations who have gone the mile to bring this dish to their families.

This pilaf is a simple one and it only takes about 20 minutes to cook from start to finish. I used one cup of basmatti rice, three brown mushrooms, 1/3c pine nuts, a handful of freshly pick scapes and a variety of fresh herbs: basil, oregano, rosemary, parsley and some lemon thyme.

My pilaf is not traditional by any stretch, but it fits most of the bill. The rice was cooked with a couple of cubes of frozen chicken stock added to the cooking water. I also added 4 small chopped scapes. In a frying pan, while the rice was cooking, I sauteed the chopped mushrooms with another 4 chopped scapes. When they were cooked through, I put them aside and toasted the pine nuts. The herbs were finely minced and kept fresh. Once the rice was done, I mixed in the nuts and mushroom mix and let it all stand warm in the rice cooker. Just before serving I added a little olive oil and the minced herbs. A little coarse salt to finish and you've got not quite a Jordanian grandmother's pilaf, but pretty close.