Wednesday, April 22, 2009

I Mashed Locust and Made Bread

My Grandfather was a baker. I've even been told that his bakery - situated down a hill, in an alley, behind my house - was the first in Waterloo. Either that, or his pizzaria, conveniently located in a plaza a block or two away from my house, overshadowed by the convenience stores that take its place today.

There are a lot of cooks in my family. My kung fu teacher once told me that, being an Italian, there're only two kind of things that we really do: lay bricks, or cook. She was only kidding. Still, I appreciated the sentiment.
My mother and her sisters' promised to never marry any men that cooked, growing up around them their entire lives. Ironically, my mother did, and so did her sister. The later having a successful restaurant today. When I talk to my uncle, and his brother (both restaurant owners), they advize me not to cook. It's a tough life, and it takes a lot of work (I've said it before). My uncle says go into computers, or become an architect. There's some truth behind that. Not in computers. Regardless, I appreciate the advice; but I appreciate them and their cooking even more. I think food, in the right context, not only does a good job of filling your stomach, but your spirit as well. Not everyone can visit people they love and harass them for a cappuccino and then feel all is right with the world. We are a select few. And we're very lucky.

Baking, I'm told, is like an art and a precise science. I think, in this world, we definitely need more almalgamations of the two.
So, being the grandson of a hard-working, immigrant baker, I decided to have my own go at it.



Breads are easy. Assuming you have the patience and the know how; because depending on the bread, it can take a while (days even).
For me, the process of bread making is a therapeutic one. It's pensive, it requires mindfulness, swift blows and concentration. Like Kung fu. Like making tea- without the swift blows, unless of course you're practicing your buddha palm technique while waiting for the water to boil.
I heard bakers liken bread making to sculpting. In fact, I've heard of some bakers who were sculpters turned bakers. I think there are some parallels there. Fresh yeast itself has the visage of a slab of wet clay, and at times, can feel like one. There's a mound of dough, and a slab of stone; a slab of dough, and a mound of stone. The true artwork dwells within, and only the artist can release it. And whether eaten or not, The psyche is more often than not appeased by the end.

I won't offer you a recipe for the bread I baked, because recipes are everywhere. I say this because I want you to look. I encourage you to look. However, what I will do is give you tips I feel are more valuable than a generic recipe for British Farl (that's a kind of bread).

There are three kinds of yeast available today: fresh compressed yeast, instant yeast, and dry active yeast.
Fresh compressed yeast is what bakeries often use. If you would like to do things the 'professional' way, go to a local bakery and ask if they'll sell you some. Grocery stores often sell it in the form of a small cake in the freezer section. I'm lucky enough to live infront a German bakery, so I can just walk down my creepy back alley and buy some from them whenever I need it. However, it's expensive in regard to other yeasts. Also, it has a strong flavour, which more often than not carries over to the final product of the bread. I once made a baguette for a coworker from France, who claimed it wasn't French enough, mainly due to the sour flavour, which, of course, was due to the pungence of the yeast.
Instant yeast is dry yeast you can immediately add to flour and bake with. I recommend this for anyone starting to bake.
Dry active yeast is probably what we all come across the most often. This is the kind of yeast you have to add water and sugar to and wait for until it froths before you can use it. It can take some time.
Now this is important: instant and dry active yeasts are stronger in retrospect to fresh yeast, but lack flavour because they're dried. If a recipe calls for fresh yeast, and you have one of the others, use 25% less.
Also, never mix salt with yeast. Leave them on opposite ends of any baking mixture; salt kills yeast.

All breads take flour. But, flour, although the meat of the bread itself, can be regarded as filler. You can always substitute a good portion of it for some other ingredient, like grain, or powdered milk (which adds for some amazing texture). It is always important when baking, unlike cooking, that you pay attention to ratios. But, you already knew that.

My oven is different from your oven. Ovens always vary. Know this, and if you have a light, turn it on and watch the bread from the outside in, but NEVER open the oven while bread bakes, unless you want uneven baking.



I'm sure these same techniques can be carried over to sculpting. Y'know, when you pretend you're Pygmalion and pretend your bread's like Galatea, and then she's brought to life, and you eat her. Very pagan. Very Greek. I don't know why the myth never turned out like that. All he did was end up marrying her. Poor sap.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Food for Thought

The other day I was taking out the trash when I watched a city bus drive by, noticing the advertisement on its side. It was for Gordon Ramsay's, Hell's Kitchen. Personally, I've never watched the show. I do like Ramsay though. He makes a mean scrambled egg with creme fresh. Anyway, For a moment, as I watched Ramsay pass by with his bull-dog stare, I acknowledged myself as a cook in uniform: nice coat, apron, funny hat, black pants, black shoes. And for a moment, it seemed kind of surreal. He and I were in the same line of work. There's a kind of glamour in being a cook; unfortunately, some of the saps I work with assume their lives are going to be like Ramsey's. But, for the humble few, they know, as well as I, that as glamourous as the world of food may be, it's a hell of a lot of work. Until the day you die. For a moment, I yearned for school again.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Viet Grill and His and Her Sinks

*CLOSED*

You'd think six months in Vietnam would be more than enough time to engorge yourself on some of the most fragrantly masked food in the world. Why one would want to come back from their travels and pay five times as much for a bowl of pho is beyond me. Who are we kidding, no it isn't. I'd probably do the same. You know how I feel about Boston Pizza.

So, upon my friend's arrival home, one of the first things she did was ask me out to eat. I had a couple places in mind. Vietnamese was not one of them. But, she missed the food. Already. So, how could I object? Now, the question was, where? Believe me, it didn't take long. Kitchener Waterloo has an array of Vietnamese food spots. A lot of which come and go, changing with the seasons, unfortunately. Usually, the better ones give way to the cheaper. Here, Vietnamese food, unless combined with other
geographic culinary locales, like Thailand (it's usually just Thailand and Vietnamese), doesn't normally do so well on its own, unless it's situated in a prime location. The Vietnamese food genre, at least in this town, has the presence of a fast food industry. There's almost always two particular dishes that sell for cheap and are bought by the general population. The ever popular beef pho, and the even more ever popular pad thai: the big mac of South East Asia, if you will. Generally made from a sauce combination of Ketchup, MSG, and peanut butter. It's hit or miss everywhere. There's only one place where I like pad thai (which, is in fact a Thai dish). Beef pho on the other hand, is generally good wherever you go. There must be some kind of secret beef pho society where everyone gets together and decides how it should taste. But if you're ever trying Vietnamese for the first time, beef pho epitomizes the idea of their cuisine. Filling ingredients, some of which may seem unappetizing, like thin raw slices of beef, in a fragrant, clean smelling broth, made from beef and flavoured with herbs like coriander, mint and purple basil, as well as the allusive Vietnamese balm. I did not make that last one up. It's actually lemon mint. If that sounds squeemish, there are so many pho variations that you're bound to find something you like. What's essential is the fragrant, flavourful broth, usually made by stewing beef with spices like clove and coriander. And I'm personally such a sucker that whenever I go to a Vietnamese place, promising I'll get something new, I almost always crack for a big bowl of pho. The largest anyone has. Which usually sells for under 9 dollars. And it's more than filling.


Viet Grill has been around for months now, and I always made a note of going to try it out. Today I finally had the chance.
The locale of the restaurant's situated in noneother than the Hong Kong plaza of downtown kitchener, my favourite food locale in the city. Unfortunately, with so many different Vietnamese locations throughout Kitchener and Waterloo, this restaurant may have picked a poor spot. It's unfortunate, because the place has promise. Then again, I also thought that for the last Vietnamese restaurant that was in the exact same location about a year ago. Here's hoping I'm wrong.

Viet Grill strays away from the stereotypical decor of fake plastic marble and green tones that usually frequent most Vietnamese joints, though it retains that nostalgic character in its choice of tables and chairs (of which I am grateful for). The place took a more contemporary turn for the masses. Pastel coffee coloured walls, an edgy flat screen tv on the wall (always a necessity in these joints) and an open concept bar/place to pay for your food. Don't forget- the generic abstract paintings, one of which my friend labelled, "balls to the wall," after I had turned the phrase multiple times at the table and we had both likened the painting to a picture of multiple phallus. Yes, I know. I should have taken a photo. Alas.

But friends, here's the pièce de résistance . . .

Usually, I'm not one to visit the washroom in a place. But today was a different story. And before I go on the absolute winning quality of this place's decor, let me first, set the mood.

Remember being a kid, and watching whatever tv show, where a person enters whatever delapitated, run down treehouse, portapotty, or make shift pee hole, full of hesitation, only to discover that on the other side is an elaborate and beautiful victorian lavoratory on the other end? Of course you do, I could name twenty shows with the shtick in it.
Well imagine, the average Vietnamese restaurant, trying to make its way in the Vietnamese restaurant world with all the other established Vietnamese restaurants, and you have to go to the bathroom, but you dread its poor decor, its (potentially) single soap dispenser, and it's yellow porcelain, cramped toilet, only to discover that you enter through the door marked "washroom" to find, no toilet, but yet another room with HIS and HER sinks, BOTH with their own soap dispensers (attached to the wall I might add)! That's right! Even the sinks have heir own rooms! And, beside each sink, a door leading to its respective gendered washroom. Unfortunately, there's only one paper towel dispenser. But imagine! Just imagine, all the chance encounters that may happen there, man meets woman, either embarassed, or in love. A 24 year old cop, a 20 something year old food service worker. Washed out camera angles, seedy cities. Very romantic. Very, Chung King Express. It was decided, with washroom's like that, I'd be back soon.


But who cares about washrooms- what did I eat! You're in for a treat, because the menu's cheap. So affordable, you could feed two people for just over 15 dollars with the portions they pass out at this joint. It was wonderful.
We were greeted by the restaurants more than curtious hostess, immediately sitting us down and telling us what we absolutely had to eat. Whether this was general enthuse for food or money, I wasn't too apt to find out, because I was sure it was the later.
Regardless, Viet Grill has a special that runs Mondays to Wednesday and that's a large (I mean large) bowl of beef pho for 4.99. It's so big, my friend added, that you could bathe a baby in it. They're not even that big in Vietnam itself. Sold. Next up for grabs was something that no other Vietnamese place I've been to has. And that was, which my friend had to repeat to me several times in order to remember the name, banh xeo: the sizzling cake. Or, egg crepe, influenced, no doubt, by the French who occupied Vietnam for so long. Essentially, the dish, also extremely large for its price of 7.99, came with a dish of mixed and fragrant greens that you wrap around whatever piece you decide to break off with your hand. The crepe itself was filled with random ingredients such as shrimp, bean sprouts, and pork, all of which could have been left in or out depending on preference, or so we were told. I'll try again next time, because good god, it was delicious. My only regret about the crepe itself was that it was literaly folded over the filling after being cooked, and not cooked to a degree so it would adhere to the ingredients and avoid spilling out when ripped off. Aside from that, its sweet, nutty flavour influenced by the onions fried into it and the sesame oil used to cook it, made it a remarkably flavourful dish, what with the meat fillings and multiple herbs to compliment it. It was love. And the pho? Tasted like pho should taste. full bodied, and fragrant, like a wine. Did that come off to fathead like? It was supposed to. Even with a cold I could recognize the flavours. And aside from the odd pieces of fat tenderly left in the soup broth, it was more than satisfying. The broth alone had a sweetness about it. The noodles, bite. No chewy, annoying tendons. Viet Grill definitely is a diamond in the rough.


So, after a long talk about my poor luck with women, my yearnings to be like the kids in Weird Science, and the wonderful choice of tea paraphernalia Viet Grill served tea in, I was out the door, but not before visiting the washroom one more time. This time, only to look at it. I'm serious; even if you don't go for the food, go for the bathroom. And a stellar 15 dollar meal, after tax.

Yes dear reader, there was nothing left to do but come home, write a satisfying food review and watch
Kelly LeBrock to my heart's content, before she let herself go.

His and her sinks. I still can't believe it.
Viet Grill

265 King Street East
Kitchener, ON N2G 4N4

519 571-9339‎