Cooking With Ideas

Gourmet Rhapsodizing?

The book to which this title refers (Gourmet Rhapsody), by Muriel Barbery is translated and appears in a beautiful little book from Europa Editions. I read it a while ago, and then forgot entirely what it was about and had to re-read it to review it here. Perhaps because I just finished an unrelated book, Death's Door: Modern Dying and the Ways We Grieve by Sandra Gilbert, Gourmet Rhapsody was a weird read. Perhaps it is just odd in its overt gendering of the realm of food (chefs versus grandmothers, the representation of the virility of the food critic lost in his icy rigidity and ill treatment of his wife and children). The novel, like Gilbert's tome, focuses on death -- in the novel's case the death of the central character who is a food critic is the focal point, as he is within 48 hours of his demise when the book opens and meets it (aka dies)  in the very last few sentences after a novel in which his search for a lost flavor is intertwined with reflections of those around him (including his dog and cat) offering their meandering views on his impending demise. Death, god, food, gender, family, friendship, love, work all entangled -- and embedded within some luxuriously wonderful (even translated) language about food. While I am not a big sushi/sashimi fan, nor someone who cares for (raw) oysters, I suspect those that like these two would find the depictions of consuming them amazing. I certainly found the depiction of eating a warm, just picked tomato evocative. The discussions of women who know, somehow deep within, how to transform matter into food, the depictions of eating bread, of summer heat and salty ocean, include some lovely paragraphs verging on prose poetry or even, though I know not what it is, lyric.

"Meat is virile, powerful; fish is strange and cruel" (p. 51) -- on the cusp between trite and glorious as a sentence.

This discussion of terroir: "The only word that mattered to me at the time was terroir -- but today I know that a terroir only  exists by virtue of one's childhood mythology, and that if we have invented these worlds of tradition rooted deep in the land and identity of a region, it is because we want to solidify and objectify the magical, bygone years that preceded the horror of becoming an adult. Only a fanatical will to make a vanished world endure despite the passing of time can explain this belief in the existence of a terroir -- an entire world that has disappeared, a mixture of flavors, smells, scattered fragrances that has left its sediment in ancestral rites and local dishes, crucibles of illusory memories that seek to make gold from sand, eternity from time. There is no great cuisine, without evolution, without erosion and forgetting. Invention must constantly be invoked upon the countertop, and past and future, here and elsewhere, raw and cooked, savory and sweet shall all be mixed, for it is this inventiveness that has made cuisine into an art that thrives untrammeled by the obsession of those who do not wish to die" (p. 71)

These few sentences redolent of much: "Words: repositories for singular realities which they then transform into moments in an anthology, magicians that change the face of reality by adorning it with the right to become memorable, to be placed in a library of memories. Life exists only by virtue of the osmosis of words and facts, where the former encase the latter in ceremonial dress" (p. 99)

And, finally, God. (Perhaps some literary literalization of the Word made Flesh, or vice versa). Here's what Barbery (in the relevant English translation offers: "God -- that is, raw, unequivocal pleasure, the pleasure which stems from our innermost core, cares for nothing other than their own delight, and returns to it in like fashion; God-- that is, that mysterious region in our most secret self with which we are completely in tune in the apotheosis of authentic desire and unadulterated pleasure Like the umbilicus nestled in our deepest phantasms, which only our deepest self can inspire . . . " (p. 155)

And then: "The question is not one of eating, nor is it one of living; the question is knowing why." (p. 156).

Really?

For an interview with Barbery, click here.

For reviews of this novel elsewhere, try here or here.

Cooking Magazines -- It's a New Day

Ages ago, I was sent a copy of the new version of Cooking Light, a magazine that I have liked on and off over the years. In fact, one of my favorite recipes for raita, a tomato onion salad, and some curries come from, of all odd places, an old Cooking Light (I think 2003) feature on the Super Bowl. So, when I got the query on email about whether I would like to see and review the new "fresh look" I said yes. And, then, because this is a hobby, and I was engaged elsewhere, I let it sit there. I carried it around on plane trips. Eventually I opened the envelope. I still carried it around. And then one day a while ago (since this will pop up much later) that I call today, when it is raining and grey and I am feeling a bit lonely, Cooking Light it is. The issue I have is September 2009 (which tells you how long I have not gotten to this).

So: the issue looks and feels a bit different -- in part because it is a bit thicker and the side can now be read if you store them in a bookshelf. (Not true of the old version.) On the side this time: plan ahead parties, peak season grilling, superfast seafood, and carb-lover's guide. Inside? Well, as is usual with foodie magazines of most sorts (not all, of course), there are loads of advertisements (which is, I suppose, how they make most of their money); and there is a swell looking recipe for "windowpane potato chips" that make me dream of my mandoline. 

A few non foodie items in this issue: one that I really liked: how to buy walking shoes. In this era (ok, it has been going on a long time but seems even worse now) of there being absolutely no informed help at retail outlets, you're sort of on your own when you shop. As a result, such useful advice which is not aimed at a particular brand is great. I learned from this. On the other hand, the make up stuff? Not so much.

What do I think of the new look? Well, with the death of my favorite Gourmet Magazine, a loss I will mourn for years (though it will drive me back to those piles and piles of old issues I have), this will be one of the treats at the grocery store that comes sans calories but still boosts my spirit when I need it. And, of course, their focus on cooking healthy (which is not always the same as cooking light perhaps) is a good thing. Hello new fangled Cooking Light. (And good bye, Gourmet.)

Did You Ever Live in Chicago?

When I think of food in Chicago, there are many options -- Charlie Trotter's once not so long ago, but in the decade I actually lived there, now several decades ago, there was Greektown. And, there was Berghoff's. A down town landmark, somewhere in the "loop", then Berghoff's seemed very special, making its own beer and serving unfamiliar food involving sauerkraut in a fairly serious seeming setting. Now, I see it at O'Hare as a Cafe when I change planes. And I think of those so-many-years-ago days in that restaurant which is, I know now, the one that claims to have been Chicago's first.

So, a while ago, when I opened an envelope and found a cookbook called The Berghoff Cafe, I imagined those meals decades ago. Not quite that, as perhaps memorialized in an earlier cookbook called The Berghoff Family Cookbook, this book incorporates tidbits of Chicago history with recipes often featured at the Cafe.  (Co) authored by Carlyn Berghoff, several generations after the original, the book includes new-fangled things like paninis and pizza and salads, but also a recipe for something I only remember having had much more recently: spatzle. Apparently a feature of Berghoff's which I did not come to know lo-those-many-decades ago, now the idea that I might be able to make it from scratch is swell. And, what I learned from this book is that one can use a colander or a specially made gizmo to make spatzle. Hmmm. Between this -- and the origins of Cracker Jack -- this was a fun combination of a trip down memory lane and newly informative.Yes, the water in Chicago was once so risky that to wash down one's whiskey, beer was the best choice -- and no, this is not the boiler maker, this is a shot and a wash. Yes, the World's Fair in Chicago in 1893 was once the locus operandi of an immigrant's beer, the inventer of Cracker Jack, and . . . is linked historically with the landscape of the University of Chicago not to mention the World's Parliament of Religion. . . . All that -- and Berhoff's Cafe to boot.

For the spatzle recipe, click here.

Religion and Food -- GMOS

For a piece this morning on religion and food, see the article at Religion Dispatches entitled "GMO or No: Problematic Intersections of Religion, Biotechnology and Food," by Brittany Shoot. In the piece, Shoot reviews an edited collection, "Acceptable Genes: Religious Traditions and Genetically Modified Food" edited by Conrad Brunk and Harold Coward.

Two Foodie Mysteries: LAURA CHILDS and LIVIA WASHBURN

What is a foodie mystery? There are so many, with amateur detectives who cook, run bistros or coffee shops or catering companies. So many cozies (in the main, as noir and food do not seem to go together quite as well) that feature food and sometimes come along with recipes. They are the part of this site listed on the margin as"Mysteries with Food" and thematically as "Murder on the Menu". For today, two, both of whom are about (oddly enough) Texas -- Kindred (I think??!?!) is in Texas for the Cackleberry Club and Killer Crab Cakes is set in Fulton, Texas along the water. So, here are two short reviews:

Eggs Benedict Arnold is the second in a (newer) series by Laura Child featuring the Cackleberry Club, a small group of women all of whom are independent (widowed or with a husband long into Alzheimers or. . . ) and who run a combination restaurant, book store, knitting space -- perhaps many of our fantasies -- and whose central character solves mysteries. As the back cover puts it: "Suzanne, Toni, and Petra lost their husbands but found their independence. .  "  The first in this series (Childs has two other series  -- Scrapbooking Mysteries and Tea Shop Mysteries) was Eggs in Purgatory reviewed here. (I have, of course, reviewed others of Childs' books and she graciously did an interview on Cooking with Ideas too!) Anyway, I read this one as  an "uncorrected proof" of a book due out in December. While the title is totally baffling in terms of its relation to the plot (yes, I know who Benedict Arnold is. Yes, I know what Eggs Benedict are. No I do not get this title in its relation to the plot. Let me know if you do?), and this one is not as entrancing as its predecessor, many of the characters are strongly written (I especially like Sheriff Doogie, though I suppose one is not intended to) and the main mystery is not easily solved by the reader. A death of a funeral director, followed by other deaths, with the main character pursuing the crime -- only to have the ending [SPOIL ALERT]  clear up the crimes because she was not terrifically smart, and is almost killed. Childs does give you hints along the way and I have to admit I got it before the ending.  Hmmm. An enjoyable read, but in the end (!!?!)  the ending was a little less than I expect from Childs. What I did like were a few of the references to foodie culture outside of the book, the appearance of Baxter who will likely be a regular series character too (a dog!) and the addition of a new donkey to Suzanne's world,  the puzzle of why anyone buys anything at bake sales if the bakers are not terribley skilled and the cake contest sponsored at the Cackleberry Club (complete with its themes). I have to admit that I find the characterization of the one welathy author in town a bit over the top, though perhaps it is a wink at how successful authors get read by their own home towns?  As for the title, by the way, no, Eggs Benedict are not named after Benedict Arnold -- nor were they the punishment he faced for his treachery as far as I can tell. Having said that, there is, indeed, such a thing as Eggs Benedict Arnold -- in which the english muffin becomes a biscuit and the hollandaise becomes country gravy and the poached egg becomes well, more fully cooked. Check out wikipedia for the many variations on eggs benedict. Or check the back of Childs' book, where she has her own version of Eggs Benedict Arnold as well as some dangerous looking chocolate flapjacks.)  For other reviews, try this not very informative one here or write your own in the comments below!

Another "Murder on the Menu," by an author I did not know before (at least in middle age I have no memory of her. Don't tell me if I reviewed one of her books here before!)  is Killer Crab Cakes by Livia J. Washburn. Washburn, according to her website, is a Texan who writes singly and with her husband, in a variety of genres including mysteries, westerns and romances. (As a rather horrifying side note, she does tell the story of a fire burning down her home as well on her site.  But she also lets you know they have rebuilt and what her new place looks like.) What about the book? Well, despite a flicker of getting the mystery well before the end of the book, this was a pretty good read. Perhaps this is just because I have not encountered Washburn before -- and so the formula is still working for me? In any case, once again, there is an amateur (complete with a love interest, though thank goodness this one is not a cop; instead, there are references to her son the cop who does not feature in this particular novel as the main sleuth is away from home).Washburn's series are called "Fresh Baked Murders" and a running subplot (unimportant to the mystery) is a baking contest two of the characters enter. One of the things I liked about this is that the central sleuth does make some very wrong assumptions and realizes it as she goes along -- in a refreshingly honest way. So, Washburn is successful in having her sleuth seem human. Having said that, there are some themes here worth thinking about (even if this is really just a fun book): should law enforcement assume that if someone has been guilty before he or she is guilty now? what is it like for police in very small areas to arrest people they have known their whole life? is class part of our experience of law enforcement and crime? and is the transformation of towns into tourist meccas always a good thing?  And, not least, are some people (aka the series sleuths of all these books) just stalked by crime?

So, yes, these were both fun reads, keeping me company and smiling even when the rain and grey were dominating. Have fun with them! If I get 10 comments below, maybe I will send a free cookbook to whoever makes the tenth comment. . . . and I do mean 10 different people!

Mail Order Cowpokes . . . Or is that Cookbooks?

I get so many surprises in the way of cookbooks I am going to throw caution to the wind and just say a few words about several here tonight. And I am likely going to keep doing that until I get through a heap some of which I have eben ignoring for a while. Each deserves more, and this is a bit cheap of me, but here we go, starting with two that have a sort of cowboy (or is it cowgirl?) aka ranching theme. This is soooo not the world I came from, and as I have come to know the west a tiny tiny bit, well, these are not quite it for me. But maybe that's just because I am definitely an easterner by heritage.  What do you think?

The Pioneer Woman Cookbook: Recipes from an Accidental Country Girl: Now this is an absolutely great title and the book is by Ree Drummond. (For Drummond's website, click here.) You can see on the cover that this is not really about a "pioneer" if by that you imagine a century before the 21st (or maybe the 20th) as the woman on the cover is holding what looks like a Le Creuset pot (a green one if that matters). What she means by the title (or the publisher does) is that she is not urban -- so the flap says Drummond was n her way from Los Angeles to Chicago and stopped in her hometown of Oklahoma where she fell in love (with someone variously described as the Marlboro Man and a cowboy) and. . . voila the pioneer woman cooks. Or, actually, this is a cookbook, filled with "rural" tales and a bit of this and that. I am not quite sure what to make of this book, but am going to say: (a) it has pictures that are pretty darn detailed about how to do the recipes so it would be a book that would work for a neophyte cook perhaps; there are an unusual number of pictures of cows (alive) in this book; and a discussion of chaps versus chinks that (though marred by the heterosexism of how wives will respond to husbands coming home muddied up) did clarify for me how the two are different from one another. I do wish that Drummond did not persist in calling her husband "Marlboro Man" (has she not heard that the Marlboro Man is gay? or that Marlboro's cause cancer"? or that cutesy writing is, well, cutesy? The latter goes, too, with her little asides. Yuck.) Having said this, if you do not know how to make meatloaf or want detailed pictures of how to make mashed potatoes and peach crumble, go for it. You will, however, need a high tolerance for the story of her love for Marlboro Man. Me, not so much. (And this even despite the mustangs and the paean to seasoned salt complete with a picture of, well, seasoned salt you can find in aisle X of the grocery store.) Oh and yes, this is a book that emerged from her blog (see above. For other blogosphere commentary, click here where you can find an interview with Drummond. And I guess this will just not be the route to figure out the ranching life for me. . . . 

Cooking the Cowboy Way: Recipes Inspired by Campfires, Chuck Wagons, and Ranch Kitchens is by Grady Spears "with June Naylor." (FOr Grady's restaurant in Fort Worth, Texas, click here.) And its cover, unlike the former one, appears more rustic than food network, with a guy (face obscured) serving well, you guessed, it, grilled meat. And, on the back, a nice view of a cowboy boot in a stirrup, some biscuits, and some definitely antique-y looking kitchen fixings. Perhaps more important (at least to me) there are recipes here I woudl try; examples include asparagus and portobello enchiladas with chipotle cream and lamb tenderloin with olive jam -- yes, both from the same section of the book, one discussing Rancho de la Osa in Sasabe, Arizona. For this book focuses on a set of ranches that seem to have restaurants and/or cabins as their second and third businesses (even on occasion a dude ranch like Rancho de la Osa). Each is also a working ranch (as is the one depicted by the pioneer woman). And one is outside Calgary, so there is even a segment on Alberta (with paeans to Alberta beef and to the beauties of Kananaskis country). From another ranch, there are plantain tacos with black beans, and form yet another a blue cheese and bacon burger with chipotle mayo. Yes, I do love blue cheese on a burger. Texas, Florida (who knew there were that many cattle raised in Florida?), Alberta, Missouri, Arizona. Pretty well written, apt pictures, and tempting recipes. So, this book about what the authors call "the cowboy way" is fun. It is definitely one of those examples of mail that arrives -- and while I likely would not have bought it had I seen it in a store, I would have been wrong. 

This book is associated with a new PBS series of shows called "The Cowboy Way" hosted by (you guessed it) Grady Spears. Here's the pilot. And right here, just because you kept reading, is the recipe for that burger. And check this out for a bit more, including a reminder that he's well thought of as a nice guy who works for ADHD awareness.

Overall, yes, I see a gendered theme to all this. It may be coincidence since these two were sitting in a pike of to-be-blogged books and seemed to go together for this review. But, hmmm. Maybe it just is the case: the only way in to cooking for men is celebrity chef, barbecue grill or cowboy? And do blog based books have to be poorly written? ( The first is blog based; the second, substantially better written and put together, is not.)

And, as an utter side note: the title of this entry is not an indication that these are mail order books -- they just came in the mail and. . . . well. . . . a dearth of titles?

ZOLA: A restaurant in State College

Zola: A New World Bistro is a restaurant in State College, PA, the home of the Nittany Lions. Yes, I too think it is odd to have an actual town named "State College." And yes, the Nittany Lions are. . . Penn State, including the football team STILL led by Joe Paterno. (I think he's in his 80s now. Will he never retire?)  I did not see much of the town or the campus as I was at a conference, but this restaurant was good.

What did I have? First, I had a sweet potato and pulled pork tamale. This appetizer was recommended to me by the waitress over the special appetizer (which involved pork belly, which I love, so the waitress truly had to be persuasive to get me to try this). She was right. Served in a banana leaf, the tamale was simultaneously quite spicey and sweet. The incorporated pulled pork was tender and the colors themselves -- green banana leaf plus orange sweet potato -- was incredibly fall like. And I kept going autumn and got as an entree some pumpkin ravioli. These were not soaked in a sauce as some pasta is, but served almost dry, lined up on a beautiful teal colored dish that was long and pointy at the ends. And, to make the fall festival spectacularly tasty, the dish had sage; even better -- it was crispy fresh sage. The pasta itself was pretty light and -- the pumpkin-y interior was right at the cusp of savory and sweet. Not perfect, but close. Alas, though, I had no dessert. Give me no credit, it was because I did not know the folks I was with well enough to go for dessert even when they begged off. So, I missed the trio of truffles I would have had. Zola definitely delivered new world tastes like the sweet potato and pumpkin. And the ambiance was warm (literally) and friendly. The service was attentive -- but not intrusive -- and the waitress humored some of our odder requests. They have, too, an extensive wine list, beer list and cocktail list.

All in all, the $40 it seemed like a bargain -- well, at least well worth it!

address:    324 West College Avenue

                  State College PA 

Phone:        814-237-8474

Broad Street Market

Harrisburg's Broad Street Market is a wonderful set of buildings where you can buy both prepared food and a whole assortment of produce (both local and not), butchered meats and poultry, and even an occasional bit of seafood. Among the prepared foods that I have tried: some very very good ribs and some Indian food (the latter from a place called Curry in a Hurry that is the same folks as Harrisburg's Passage to India). Lunch is great -- I had some very good spinach curry with vegetables and bread. The hot sauce was really spice-y and nice.

What else can be found there? Well, I have purchased cranberry beans and frozen some, taken home a bag of sweet potatoes and baked them (and eaten them with butter and lime juice), and various bits of other produce. And, when I had company, we purchased a lovely (rather large) roasting chicken which was notable for its yellowish fat rather than being a bleached white looking chicken. I roasted it with a lemon and some thyme (from elsewhere in the market) in its innards. And, I roasted, as well, its neck -- the first time I ate chicken neck and I was wrong -- it was not not not yucky. It was rich and dark and wow. Along with the chicken I served roasted root vegetables from the market - cubed parsnips, carrots, sweet potato, red potatoes, and . . . . I also bought some farm butter (not, I think, pasteurized) which is very hard and quite buttery tasting. Hmmm. And, some pumpkin pie. . . Oh wait. I also bought some quite sharp provolone. One of the things I saw there was lebanon bologna of various sorts, which made me think of a childhood concoction involving relish, mustard, lebanon bologna and potato chips on white bread. I love that combination. Anyway, that's nostalgia, this is now.Yes, I like this market.

All in all the place is a wonderful combination of people, food, and history. As you can see, I have been there at lunch time. That's not all -- I have also been there in the early morning on Saturday and mid day Sunday -- and every single time it is a community gathering place. The Broad Street Market is, claims its web site, the oldest continuously operating market house in the U.S., having opened in 1860. Once having housed 725 vendors, there are currently about 40 (with a few signs of new ones arriving). And there is a very visible presence of Amish and/or Mennonites.  The market is managed by the historic Harrisburg association. 

And for a full day, wander across to the Midtown Scholar, a dandy bookstore across from the Market, which also serves coffee (and an occasional pound cake and once I had a cheddar scone). And the books are -- well, wonderful. There is, for us foodies, a really good food related section of books, with essays and much much more. Check it out.

Marketing, Positioning and All That Jazz

Rubies in the Orchard arrived on my doorstep ages ago and I have finally read it. It was a quick read -- and a pretty interesting one. Yes, in some ways it qualifies as "about food" and/or about things we drink. The book is about POM juice (and related phenomena) and Fiji water. But it is also about, for example, the Franklin Mint -- which I grew up thinking about as the maker of weird Christmas gifts (coins) which are now in my basement largely because one of my relatives worker for them. What do they have in common? Turns out: Lynda Resnick (and her husband) are the marketing phenomena that pushed them into really really big profits. Yes, they are the ones who brought us pomegranate juice, including funding much of the research arguing for its anti-oxidant power (and thus their many imitators -- which includes many which have little if any pomegranate juice). In fact, they brought us the pomtini -- as a marketing ploy.

The book is, in fact, about Resnick's career as a marketer of what she calls values -- and honesty -- and about products. This includes the green campaign of Fiji Water ("untouched by human hands") which she says actually has a negative carbon footprint. And it includes, as well, the most memorable story in the book -- in which the Franklin Mint purchases Jacqueline Kennedy's fake pearls -- for over $200,000 -- and then sells replicas (also fake) for $200 a pop, thereby making much much more than they paid for the "original fake pearls." Yes, they are selling something like fake authenticity. Wow. And the transformation of Teleflora she depicts is about selling gifts along with the flowers -- all those teddy bears and coffee mugs and. . . in which flowers now come.

Having said that, the book actually says pretty much what many marketers say -- though she positions herself over against them. In fact, she argues against the trend to out-of-the-box marketing in favor of in the box -- which for Resnick is looking very seriously at what you are selling, and selling what it is really all about -- selling, that is, its value. And she has some pretty interesting things to say about the role of the internet -- both in making for difficulty for businesses and in their potential for building community (aka brand loyalty and connection). A pretty quick read, selling in part her the wonders of her own products, you also get a sense of what sort of ego it takes to do what she has done in life. . . .

Whether you are selling juice, flowers, water, or whatever (hey, colleges? education?) the issue for her is finding something that is central to it (aka mission) and selling that, not changing your mission to meet market demand but changing the market demand to show the true  value of what you are selling. Hmmm.

Would I have read it if it had not arrived on my doorstep? Probably not. Am I glad I read it? Well, actually, yes. Though I could marshal criticisms, it was fun -- and reminded me of my love of Magritte in my youth. Here, on the book cover, instead of a floating apple, there is a floating pomegranate. And yes, though I did not grow up with them  (I am indebted to someone in my adult life for introducing me to their wonders) I do love pomegranates. And I have, in fact, used POM juice to make my very own pomegranate molasses because I was too lazy to start with the fresh fruit itself. Plus, she is such a name dropper that it felt like the guilty pleasure of reading the gossip rags in the checkout line at the grocery store. And who knew that she was the woman (then named Lynda Sinay) whose photocopier helped ensure my generation's immediate recognition of the phrase "The Pentagon Papers."  

For Resnick's blog, click here. For more on Resnick's book, see here or here.

A Totally Great Whim

Some time ago, my main inspiration read a piece in the Globe and Mail about an event then upcoming at the Ancaster Old Mill Inn in, you guessed it, Ancaster (in Ontario). Never heard of it at the time.  Now I have and I am terrifically glad. (And no, there is not an inn involved.) On a whim, on our way from the Toronto Airport to Niagara on the Lake for a bit of the Shaw Festival, we dropped by the Inn for the launch of a cookbook written by their chef, Jeff Crump, and their Pastry Chef, Bettina Schormann. The best whim in years -- the food was great, the music swell and the cookbook (signed by both) has lovely possibilities. (And end paper send ups from the likes of Michael Pollan and Deborah Madison seem sincere rather than the usual industry folderol. [if forced to choose who I would be in an elevator with between these two, it is definitely Madison. Less polemic and equally if not more influential].) The event was a blast -- mainly people who lived right there in Ancaster, friends and family and loyal diners at the Ancaster Old Mill Inn, all eager to tell us how long they had known Jeff and Bettina not to mention the wonders of the food. And the two co-authors were endearing in the ways they revealed themselves to be moved by the event. Nice to see foodie kindness and fun not pretention.

Let's see, what did we have? First, of course, I had a watermelon martini, which involved pouring vodka through a watermelon. Pretty darn tasty ad a tad dangerous. And there was Inniskillin white wine. But, more importantly, there were several places to get food: (a) a vegetable display with "edible dirt" (and yes it looked like dirt) with absolutely beautiful vegetables (small beets, turnips, vari-colored carrots); (b) a from the sea sort of table ranging from oysters to a ceviche and salt baked artic char; (c) a meat table which had lovely ham (though my piece was a tad fatty), braised brisket, duck, sausage and more. (Oh, the smell of that meat cooking.) At each table there were some delightful sauces too -- including a very nice horse radish one that simply sang. All this does not even get us to the desserts -- which included profiteroles and homemade ice cream (surrounded by clouds of -- well, not smoke, the fog of dry ice melting). I think there was a cherry and a peach (with bourbon if I recall correctly). MMM. Not to mention one of the best brownie-like things I have had in years.

The coffee was ok. The food was wonderful. And, the event itself was a blast, as I said. The ambience too was appealing. The Inn is built (okay, this seems obvious as I start to write it, but trust me, it was lovely) over the running water that used to work the mill (and perhaps still does?). The appearance - and sound -- were just right, as was the somewhat rustic sense to the place. (And this despite the more suburban feeling crowded sense that has grown up around the mill.) Very nice.

The cookbook launched that night is entitled Earth to Table: Seasonal Recipes from an Organic Farm. Given this, of course, the event involved some hurrahing for the farmers involved too, the folks of ManoRun Farm. Though Crump and Schormann tried, they could not be persuaded to say anything though they were definitely present (and appear in the book in fine form). The book itself is beautiful and has a recipe for duck confit that does not involve duck fat. I have been threatening to make duck confit for nigh on a decade. Hmmm. Might this be the moment? Crump is a founder (I think) of Slow Food Canada. 

Here's the Earth to Table site. And for some reviews of the cookbook, check here or here or. . . here. (The first one is one of my new favorites in the contest for most fun food blog name, a context that wil never end since every time I get on line there are ore food sites with more entertaining names.) Wanna Youtube 'em? Try here. And hey, Ruth Reichl likes the cookbook -- in fact, she was instrumental in ensuring it got published. So, hey, check it out. 

I can't review the restaurant - but if the food at this event was even half as good -- well, it will be a great place to have dinner when we return. Meanwhile, here's what urbanspoon thinks: