Alison Fryer, manager of The Cookbook Store (left) and Even Better Chicken Marbella (right)

I have it in front of me: The original Silver Palate Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins first published by Workman in 1979.

Oh, the memories it brings back. Mostly of being part of the baby-boom generation and of trying to have it all: a career, motherhood, feminism, home-making, looking good in tight bell-bottoms — the list goes on. It was the era of superwoman and a challenging one I realize looking back.

But perhaps paramount in my social set was being the queen of the dinner party who knew how to entertain and, even more important, how to cook a mean meal. Martha Stewart was breaking on to the scene and, even though we joked about her status as a role model for home-making perfection, it was hard to be immune.

So we cooked and we entertained — and then did it some more.

I recall almost falling under the table at the home of friends after dining on rich, gooey cheese fondue robustly laced with kirsch and wine. There was rabbit lusciously braised in red wine spiked with juniper berries prepared by a couple I knew. And yummy, crisp Veal Milanese savoured at another such soiree.

With a degree in languages (Russian and French) under my belt and no job prospect in sight as an interpreter at the U.N. (naturally, I say that in jest), I found myself in Toronto in the mid-1970s with a husband (now ex) and daughter Esther (now 41) in tow.

Happily and accidentally, I lucked into work for Toronto Life magazine as a freelance restaurant reviewer. Then, in 1983 — again, mostly by luck — I was hired as the first food editor at the Toronto Sun.

In 1989, I was wooed away to the Toronto Star where I spent 18 action-packed years as the food editor and then weekly columnist.

Enter the famous Chicken Marbella of my early culinary efforts. And re-enter The Silver Palate Cookbook, the first of several books by the same authors, in which that famous recipe appeared and rapidly became a hit with all and sundry.

I have that trusty cookbook to thank for my cooking experience, in particular trademark dishes of the era that I turned out a rapid rate: Bouillabaisse, Chicken Liver Pate with Green Peppercorns, Beef Carbonnade and Carrot Cake. I have that book to thank for the confidence required to cook for others. I have that book to thank for Chicken Marbella, which I have prepared at intervals — tweaking the recipe as I went — for more than 30 years.

And what a coincidence. I had just tried a new and, I must say, its best rendition when The Cookbook Store in downtown Toronto announced its 30th anniversary celebrations happening this month.

It appeared in a magazine put out by the tireless folk at Cook’s Illustrated with the irresistible title: The Best of America’s Test Kitchen.

Chicken Marbella is basically a twist on the Middle Eastern dish Tagine and is chicken prepared with olives, capers and prunes. It is strong-flavoured but the flavours all complement each other: salty, sour and sweet. This explains its popularity and its staying power.

This version combines those key ingredients into a paste that is smeared on the chicken which is then marinated and is much easier than the original.

This recipe is my toast to The Cookbook Store’s 30th anniversary. Thank you Alison, Jennifer and all the others who’ve made your wonderful store the perfect place to celebrate food and cooking in Toronto for all these years.

Even Better Chicken Marbella

I used some chicken breasts along with boneless thighs, with great results. I substituted about a teaspoon of anchovy paste for anchovies. I haven’t included the 2 bay leaves in the recipe — I feel they’re redundant. The paste can be made ahead and refrigerated.

Paste:

¹⁄₃ cup pitted green olives, minced

¹⁄₃ cup pitted prunes

3 tbsp olive oil

4 garlic cloves, peeled

2 tbsp capers, rinsed

3 anchovy fillets, rinsed

¹⁄₂ tsp dried oregano

¹⁄₂ tsp ground pepper

¹⁄₄ tsp kosher salt

Pinch of red pepper flakes

Chicken:

2 ¹⁄₂ to 3 lb (about 1 ¹⁄₂ kilos) chicken parts (thighs, breasts)

2 tsp olive oil

³⁄₄ cup chicken stock

¹⁄₃ cup dry white wine

¹⁄₃ cup pitted green olives, rinsed and halved

1 tbsp capers, rinsed

¹⁄₃ cup pitted prunes, coarsely chopped

1 tbsp butter

1 tsp red wine vinegar

2 tbsp chopped fresh parsley

Preheat oven to 400F.

For paste, pulse all ingredients together in food processor until finely chopped. Scrape down bowl; pulse until almost smooth. Transfer to bowl.

For chicken, pat dry with paper towels. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Heat oil in large heavy skillet over medium-high heat until smoking. Add chicken, skin side down, and cook without moving until browned, 5 to 8 minutes. Transfer to large plate. Drain all but 1 teaspoon of fat from skillet; reduce heat to medium-low.

Add ¹⁄₃ cup paste to skillet and cook, stirring constantly, until slightly thickened, 1 to 2 minutes. Stir in stock, wine, olives and capers, scraping up any browned bits. Return chicken, skin side up, to skillet; transfer to oven. Roast, uncovered, 15 minutes.

Remove skillet from oven. Use back of spoon to spread remaining paste over chicken. Sprinkle prunes around chicken.  Return to oven; roast until paste begins to brown and chicken is cooked through, 7 to 12 minutes.

Transfer chicken to warmed serving platter. Whisk butter and vinegar into sauce in skillet. Add salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle with parsley.

Makes about 4 to 6 servings.

NEW YORK — Pinch me!

I’m on the 18th floor of the famous Waldorf Astoria in midtown Manhattan standing beside the hotel’s executive chef David Garcelon while he makes a Waldorf Salad. (You can listen to my conversation with David here.)

Adjacent to the small space we’re in is a spectacular, bling-bedecked ballroom where, he explains, a rectractable roof once meant people could dine and dance under the stars above Park Avenue.

I know Garcelon from his days as executive chef of the Fairmont Royal York hotel in my home-town, Toronto.

A year-and-a-half ago, he moved to New York to be head culinary honcho at the Waldorf — arguably North America’s most well-known hotel. He notes that the two big, vintage establishments on adjoining continents have a lot in common: “They’re about the same size and age.”

Tall, dark and handsome, Garcelon is a calm, articulate fellow used to the pressures of being in charge of a huge operation like this. He’s proud of the way things run and, before our arrival on the 18th floor, took me on a tour of the Waldorf’s huge kitchens, most of which take up an entire floor of the hotel which itself covers an entire city block between Park and Lexington avenues and 49th and 50th streets.

Talking as he works, Garcelon explains how the Waldorf Salad came to be.

“It originally consisted of three ingredients” he begins, “apples, celery and mayonnaise.”

Its origin dates back to the early 1890s and to a man called Oscar Tschirky who was the hotel’s maitre d’. “He was was the Waldorf’s most famous employee,” Garcelon continues. “He was a celebrity, a man about town who wrote cookbooks and books on etiquette.”

He is diplomatic about the real source of the salad: “Oscar was credited with its invention but it was likely first created by chefs — the team back then.”

Over the years, the dish evolved. Celebrated French chef Auguste Escoffier — “the greatest chef in the world,” says Garcelon - added walnuts and put the recipe in his book “Le Guide Culinaire,” in the early 1900s.

Garcelon’s predecessor, executive chef John Doherty, was not a fan and told me a few years ago: “I’ve never liked  it. It’s apples, celery, mayo, walnuts. I think it’s rather unappealing. It’s not for me.” However, making the most of the situation, he changed the dressing, adding yogurt and creme fraiche to jazz it up.

Grapes entered the picture at some point. “I think it needs walnuts and grapes,” says Garcelon. “Apples, celery and mayo need a bit of help.”

The current version, tweaked by him, is “modernized.” It contains two types of apples cut in dainty julienne strips (red-skinned Gala and green Granny Smith for contrast in taste and colour); celery root instead of celery, finely diced; two kinds of grapes (Red Flame and green Thompson) and toasted spiced walnuts for garnish.

The dressing is a fancy take on the original mayo: a champagne vinaigrette emulsified with the addition of egg yolk and goosed with the distinctive, pungent aroma of truffle oil. “The Waldorf is a luxury hotel. We like to use the best ingredients.”

The Waldorf Astoria serves a whopping 20,000 of their eponymous salads a year. The dish has been immortalized in art that runs the gamut of sublime to ridiculous.

Cole Porter lived in one of the hotel’s exclusive towers and included it in the last verse of his song: “You’re the Top.” John Cleese (aka Basil Fawlty of British comedy series “Fawlty Towers” fame) hilariously tied himself in knots trying (unsuccessfully) to produce a Waldorf Salad for an irate American at his somewhat seedy hotel.

I, however, did manage to produce an excellent Waldorf Salad at home — almost as good as the delectable one prepared for me by Chef Garcelon on the hotel’s 18th floor.

Here it is:

Waldorf Salad

I tweaked and, I think, improved a version I found on the Food Network website. I took some cues from Chef Garcelon by slicing the apples in julienne strips (by hand).  I added dried cranberries — a Canadian touch — and used Honeycrisp apples which have delicious crunch and sweet/tart flavour. The dressing is sweet, simple, light and delicious; use low-fat yogurt and mayo if desired. You could use lettuce instead of arugula.

This salad is a winner and is great as a side dish with a hot main entree or as a light lunch served with soup, cheese, a sandwich or whatever takes your fancy.

¹⁄₂ cup walnut or pecan halves

2 large unpeeled apples, cut in julienne strips

2 celery stalks, sliced on the diagonal

8 to 10 seedless grapes, halved (optional)

¹⁄₄ cup dried cranberries (optional)

Juice of ¹⁄₂ lemon

¹⁄₂ cup plain yogurt

2 tbsp mayonnaise

2 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley or coriander\

1 tsp honey

Grated zest of ¹⁄₂ lemon

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Baby arugula

Preheat oven to 350F.

Spread walnuts on baking sheet and toast in oven 8 to 10 minutes. Cool; break into small pieces.

In large bowl, combine apples, celery, grapes and cranberries. Sprinkle with lemon juice.

For dressing, whisk together yogurt, mayonnaise, parsley, honey, lemon zest and pepper. (If making ahead, refrigerate until ready to use.)

When ready to serve, toss apple mixture with dressing to coat. Arrange arugula on platter or in serving bowl. Spoon salad on top. Sprinkle with walnuts.

Makes about 4 servings.

Tanya Steel is editor-in-chief of epicurious.com

You know that often mis-quoted saying: “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.” (Misquote: The proof is in the pudding.)

Well, in the case of the new “Epicurious Cookbook,” the proof is also in the making of said pudding — or Miniature Gougeres, Red Wine-Braised Duck Legs, Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad, Bourbon Chicken Liver Pate and Cranberry White Chocolate Biscotti.

The above were all dishes I made during a recent one-week cooking binge, a binge inspired by one success after the other using recipes from what is fast becoming my go-to cookbook. No mean feat since I have a library of more than 1,000 volumes dedicated to things culinary collected during my more than 30 years as a food writer and broadcaster.

So I knew I’d likely meet a kindred soul when I arrived at the downtown Toronto offices of Random House, publisher of “The Epicurious Cookbook,” to interview its author Tanya Steel. (You can listen to our conversation here.)

Blonde, tall, slim and charming, Steel was at the end of a gruelling day of media appearances. Still, she was up for chatting with me about what is obviously a shared passion: food.

She’s been in the biz for about 20 years with stints as editor at several magazines: Food & Wine, Mademoiselle and Bon Appetit. She was born in the U.K. and came to New York with her family at the age of seven. She still lives in that city with her husband and identical 14-year-old twin sons.

For the past seven years, she’s been editor-in-chief of the grande dame of online food sites: epicurious.com. It has a huge database culled from magazines Gourmet and Bon Appetit along with recipes from chefs and home cooks around the world. Now 17 years old, it was the first site I consulted for recipes and is still my favourite.

The main reason: Its terrific system of reader-rated recipes using the symbolic four forks.

Steel explains how a recipe earns the maximum four-fork rating: “They’re a visual indication of recipes that have stood the test of time. They’re highly-rated, have been made successfully millions of times and are easy to make.”

With a huge stash of four-fork recipes as a resource, choosing the best of the best for a cookbook was no mean feat. Says Steel with a smile: “That’s when the horse-trading began.”

She and a team of editors started with 2,000 recipes; the cookbook has 250-plus. “We began by deciding on themes and categories. It was onerous and exhausting.”

They agreed to divide the book into four seasons, then organized recipes into sections like breakfast, starters, main course and dessert. “We considered reviews from users around the world as well as dishes we make all the time.”

Important to the team were the comments and tips that accompany each recipe. Steel defines a great recipe — one good enough to be included — as having these qualities: “Simplicity, good ingredients and not having overly-done, frou-frou stuff that’s just there to make it seem esoteric.”

They tried to go global with their choices and, she adds, to choose “new takes on classics, dishes you can make using ingredients from the supermarket or farmers’ market that are healthy, seasonal and local.”

Epicurious tracks the most popular 10 foods among users every month. Steel cites chicken, salmon and quinoa as regulars. More surprising is banana bread. There’s a recipe for that made with chocolate and walnuts in her book. (Note to self: Make this soon.)

Cooking for her family, Steel opts for meatless meals three or four times a week for health reasons and loves the cuisines of India, Japan, Thailand and Vietnam.

Asked for favourites from the book, she names Warm Tofu with Spicy Garlic Sauce, curries in general and the Vietnamese Vegetable Summer Rolls.

She notes that studies show a resurgence in home cooking. Food TV and travel partly explain this but she feels there are economic reasons. “People realize it’s cheaper to cook at home than to order in or go to a restaurant.”

Steel is happy to be part of a populist approach to cooking. “The more you cook and the greater confidence you get, the easier life is.”

Amen say I when she adds: “Cooking is the most basic skill we all need to survive and that’s why it’s so important that kids learn how to cook. People need to learn by doing — it’s the only way.”

Check the beginning of this post for recipes I’ve tried from “The Epicurious Cookbook.” Here’s one of them that is now a staple in my repertoire. Enjoy!

Miniature Gougeres (Gruyere Cheese Puffs)

These are fantastic cocktail snacks served as is. You can also fill them with soft goat cheese lightened up with a little cream and laced with herbs — or any filling of your choice. I didn’t bother with the dill seeds — feel free to omit them or to substitute another garnish.

1 tbsp dill seeds

1 ¹⁄₂ cups coarsely grated Gruyère cheese

Cream Puff Pastry:

1 cup water

1 stick (¹⁄₂ cup) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

¹⁄₂ tsp salt

1 cup all-purpose flour

4 to 5 large eggs

For Cream Puff Pastry, in heavy saucepan, bring water to a boil with butter and salt over high heat; reduce heat to medium. Add flour all at once and beat with a wooden spoon until mixture pulls away from sides of saucepan.

Transfer mixture to bowl. With electric mixer on high speed, beat in 4 eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Batter should be stiff enough to just hold soft peaks and fall softly from a spoon. If batter is too stiff, in a small bowl, beat remaining egg lightly and add to batter, a little at a time, beating on high speed, until batter is of desired consistency.

Preheat oven to 375F. Lightly grease two baking sheets or line with parchment paper.

In a small heavy skillet, dry-roast dill seeds over medium heat, shaking until fragrant and slightly darker, being careful not to burn them, 3 or 4 minutes. Transfer to a small bowl and cool. With a mortar and pestle or in an electric coffee/spice grinder, grind until coarse.

Stir Gruyère and 1 teaspoon ground seeds into Cream Puff Pastry mixture and arrange level tablespoons about 1 inch apart on baking sheets. Sprinkle tops with remaining ground seeds and bake in upper and lower thirds of oven, switching positions of sheets halfway through baking, 30 minutes, or until puffed, golden and crisp.

Gougères keep, chilled in sealable plastic bags, 2 days or frozen 1 week. Reheat, uncovered, in a preheated 350F oven about 10 minutes. Serve warm.

Makes about 40 gougères.

Julia Child cooks scrambled eggs for me in her Cambridge MA kitchen in 1999. Her kitchen is now in the Smithsonian.

This story appeared in the Toronto Star in October, 1999, after my visit to Cambridge, MA, where Julia Child, who had become my friend and mentor, lived. She invited me for breakfast. There was an incident with some croissants. Read on:

CAMBRIDGE, Mass. — I came bearing buns: rye sourdough buns I managed to procure in a mad dash moments earlier, after the croissants carefully ordered for this momentous occasion failed to arrive at my hotel at the appointed time. (For that bizarre story, see below.)
Still recovering from that culinary escapade, I was both jittery and elated at the prospect of breakfast chez Julia Child as we drove along her quiet, leafy street a few blocks from bustling Harvard Square one beautiful, sunny morning last week.
In fact, by the time Star photographer Richard Lautens and I reached the door of Child’s sprawling, three-storey, New England-style, wood-frame house, I was decidedly on edge.
But as soon as my favourite foodie, main mentor and, by now, firm friend appeared at the door (on it was a small black-and-white plaque bearing the name of Child’s beloved husband Paul who died in 1994) and welcomed me with a big bear hug, I knew all would be well.
“It’s so good to see you again,” said Child sweetly and, as is her way, looking directly at me. “You look wonderful,” she added in that unmistakable sing-song voice. “Come on in.“
Moments later, our coats were hanging on hooks in the hall, we were invited into the large kitchen and those buns, graciously received with a “Thank you — that’s so nice,” were already out of their paper bag and in the oven.
“Paul and I moved here in 1956,” said Child in answer to my question about her lovely, lived-in, spacious home. “It was built in the 1880s and was once owned by a famous philosopher called Josiah Royce. We bought it for the kitchen.“
Scanning the colourful, cozy room before me, I could see why.
Covering one wall was an array of hanging pots and pans, most of them gleaming copper. “I got those in France,” Child explained. “I don’t use them much; they’re lined with tin and have to be re-done. These days, they’re lined with stainless steel, which is better, but they cost a fortune.“
A big black fridge was decked with a few magnets and a couple of family photos. One large oven in which our buns were warming is, said Child “a Thermidor. I think it’s convection — which I never use.“
Beside the windows, covered in vintage venetian blinds, hung two long racks of knives in an assortment of shapes and sizes — at least 30 of them in all. On an adjoining wall, about 20 metal measuring scoops were suspended, each marked crudely in white-out with the letter “J.“
On the counter nearby stood a royal blue KitchenAid electric mixer. “It’s a heavy-duty one — the best,” chimed in Child.
As we chatted, Child, 87, now slightly stooped (“I used to be 6 foot 2 but I’ve shrunk a bit”) and dressed casually in beige slacks, a burgundy man’s cardigan and patterned shirt, was slowly moving about the room getting together ingredients for scrambled eggs.
The large, rectangular table, draped in a yellow cloth then covered in a layer of heavy-duty, white-striped plastic, was neatly laid out for three.
Rustic white plates, each hand-painted with a red rooster, were set on round straw mats. Each place setting had a large blue-and-white cup and saucer. “We bought most of our dishes when we were abroad,” said Child. “These cups are Danish but we bought them in Norway.“
In the middle of the table sat an oversized, cauldron-shaped, antique silver sugar bowl; beside it a small white pitcher of cream. At each place was a big tumbler filled with orange juice. A Braun coffee maker gurgled in the background as the room filled with the luscious aroma of brewing coffee.
By now, Child had broken six eggs into a bowl and was standing over the stove heating a generous slice of butter in her “non-stick Wearever skillet.“
The large commercial gas range was, she told me, “a Garland. I’ve had it since 1945.“
As she poured the beaten eggs, seasoned with only salt and pepper, into the pan and began stirring them with a white plastic spatula, I realized this was my chance to watch first-hand as Child made scrambled eggs the way I’d once tried — with amazing success — from a recipe in her indispensable book, The Way To Cook (Knopf).
“The trick is to keep the heat low, only to have about an inch of eggs in the pan, to stir slowly so you make a soft custard and to reserve a little bit of raw scrambled egg to add at the end,” Child explained, as she proceeded to do just that.
When the eggs were deemed ready, she moved the pan away from the burner, poured the reserved tablespoon or two of raw egg into it and gave the mixture a couple of stirs.
Then, as if on cue, wielding that spatula, our host exclaimed, “And then a little extra butter for company!“
My offer to pour coffee was graciously accepted. And as we proceeded to savour those wondrously creamy eggs along with the warmed rye buns smeared with butter (a stick of it, untouched when we arrived, was fast disappearing before my eyes) and delectable Robertson’s marmalade from its jar, the conversation flowed.
Here are some choice tidbits from that magnificent morning meal:
• On her health: “I don’t feel myself slowing down. I just got back last night from a two-and-a-half-week media tour across the country. My only problem is my legs; I do exercises for it.“
• On romance: “There’s not much happening at this age but if you know any nubile men my age, bring them on!“
• On cookbooks: “I just keep a few in the kitchen: most of mine and the new Joy Of Cooking plus some reference books. I have more books upstairs but I gave most of my collection — thousands of books — to the Schlesinger library at Radcliffe College.“
• On her mission: “I would like people to take cooking as a serious hobby: learning the basics of how to use and sharpen a knife, cut quickly and easily, how to saute. It’s all very simple — just a matter of practice.“
• On recipes: “There are as many ways to make a dish like coq au vin as there are cooks. I’d like to free people from slavish dependency on recipes to the freedom of knowing the basics.“
• On nutrition: “A few years ago, people were so afraid of their food. Things seem to have calmed down a bit. People were using their emotions, not their heads. I believe in moderation — a bit of everything — and no snacking.“
• On fame: “If you’re off TV for a year, you’re dead — so don’t get a swelled head. Celebrity’s part of the business. If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.“
• On entertaining: “I love to entertain. It’s always casual. If I meet new people, I like to have them over here and show them this is a nest of simple folk.”

The Missing Croissants and How I Hijacked a Bag of Buns

Here’s how the croissants intended for breakfast with Julia Child turned into buns.
The day before our memorable meal, I had scoured Cambridge on foot with the help of a map and advice from my savvy friend Jim Dodge — a talented pastry chef and cookbook author who is currently director of food services at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
After agreeing that croissants from a Boston bakery called Iggy’s would fit the bill, Dodge offered to order them for me since he dealt with that establishment regularly.
Here was the plan.
The croissants would be delivered to the front desk of my hotel between 8 and 8:10 a.m. the next day, ensuring enough time for me to arrive, goodies in hand, chez Child for breakfast at 9 a.m.
The next day, 8:10 a.m. arrived and I was at the hotel’s front desk. The croissants were not.
By 8:20, I was biting my nails. A phone call to Dodge informed me the driver was stuck in traffic but only five minutes away.
By 8:30, I decided I could not wait any longer.
Star photographer Richard Lautens was dispatched to get the car. I decided to wait on the sidewalk and scan the horizon for an Iggy’s delivery van.
Minutes later, a vehicle bearing that name drove down the side street beside our hotel. I ran like the wind, flung open the van’s door and began to babble, “I’m Marion Kane. Where are my croissants — the ones for Julia Child?“
The perplexed, dark-haired, olive-skinned young man at the wheel either spoke no English or was in a state of shock at the sight of a frantic woman who was, by now, rummaging through the brown bags containing baked goods piled on the seat beside him.
He managed to mumble a few words that sounded like, “Miss, I don’t know.…” but ’twas in vain. I had discovered a bag with stickers on it bearing my hotel’s name.
Inside, it appeared, was an assortment of buns and rolls but no croissants.
“These will have to do,” I reasoned. In hindsight, I was incapable of reason at this point as, glancing at my watch, I realized it was 8:45 a.m. Sheer panic had set in.
Clutching the large bag of buns to my chest, I slammed the van door shut and ran back to the front of the hotel where a nervous and confused Lautens was looking for me. “We’ll have to take these,” I gasped, opening the car door. “Let’s go.“
Sorting through several dozen buns as we drove, we agreed the rye sourdough ones — though nothing like croissants – looked best. Eight of them were dutifully offered to a gracious Child and consumed at our wondrous repast.
When I returned to the hotel a couple of hours later, a young woman called me over to the front desk. “This note arrived for you with a package.“
On it was written, “8:30 a.m. Your croissants are late due to problems with proofing.“
I didn’t have the heart or stomach to eat or even look at those pesky, proof-challenged pastries. “Please give them to the nearest hostel,” was my defeated reply.
As for that poor Iggy’s driver, he’s probably still scratching his head over what was behind that short, curly-haired wild woman and the hijacked bag of buns.

Here’s the recipe for those famous eggs as enjoyed by me at Child’s kitchen table from The Way To Cook (Knopf) by Julia Child.

Julia’s Scrambled Eggs

Perfect scrambled eggs are tender and creamy. The secret is to do them slowly over low heat so the eggs coagulate into soft curds. You don’t want the eggs too deep in the pan or they will take too long to cook and if there is too shallow a layer they will cook too quickly. A one-inch layer is easy to handle and a 10-inch non-stick skillet works well for 6 to 8 eggs.

8 eggs
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tbsp or more butter
1 tbsp or more heavy cream (optional)
3 or 4 tbsp chopped fresh herbs: parsley, or parsley and chives, chervil, tarragon or dill (optional)

Break eggs into medium bowl, adding salt and pepper to taste; beat just to blend yolks and whites.
Set skillet over moderately low heat; add enough butter to lightly coat bottom and sides.
Pour in all but 2 tablespoons of beaten eggs.
Slowly scrape bottom of skillet from edges toward centre with spatula, continuing slowly as eggs gradually coagulate. It will take them a minute or so to start thickening; don’t rush them.
In 2 to 3 minutes, eggs will have thickened into a lumpy custard; cook a few seconds more if they are too soft for your taste. Fold in reserved 2 tablespoons of beaten egg.
Adjust seasoning; fold in butter, cream and herbs, if using.
Serve at once on warm (not hot) plates.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Brilliant Brussels Sprouts at Toloache

I recently spent four glorious days in midtown Manhattan.

For two of those, I was pretty much closeted in the Roger Smith Hotel attending back-to-back seminars at a cookbook conference.

And apart from a few heart-wrenching hours spent watching the stunning but tragically haunting photos and videos of the holocaust at the Museum of Jewish Heritage, there was no other agenda.

That meant plenty of time to do what I enjoy most when visiting New York: Walking the bustling streets wearing comfortable shoes while checking out all and sundry, in particular the food.

Since our hotel was on Lexington Ave. near Grand Central Station, Ross and I stuck to that vicinity.

One evening, we stopped for huge, steaming bowls of luscious ramen at Sapporo (perfectly acceptable though not as authentic as my favourite spot Ippudo), our mandatory fix of sublime steak frites at Le Relais de Venise, mountains of meat amid the hubbub at Virgil’s Real Barbecue (good but not great) and a surprising couple of dishes at the popular eatery Toloache, home to Mexican celebrity chef Julian Medina.

Grasshopper Tacos at Toloache

Those two dishes were Grasshopper Tacos that tasted — well, like tacos filled with fried grasshopper — and a much more toothsome, room-temperature appetizer comprising quartered, fried Brussels sprouts tossed with vinaigrette, toasted pumpkin seeds and crumbled queso fresco that was sweet, simple and delish!

I have long been a big Brussels sprouts fan and have, of late, been championing this undeservedly underdog veg with some like-minded souls on Twitter (hashtag #brusselsprouts).

Back home in Toronto, I fiddled with — and, I think, improved — a recipe I found for Toloache’s sensational dish on the terrific Epicurious website. Here it is:

Toloache’s Brussels Sprouts with Pumpkin Seeds, Queso Fresco and Sherry Vinaigrette

The restaurant uses baby Brussels sprouts — they are sweet and delicious — but regular ones will do. Queso fresco can be found in Mexican food shops — it’s a soft white cheese ideal for crumbling into warm salads like this one.

Sherry Vinaigrette:
2 tbsp sherry vinegar
¹⁄₄ cup canola oil
1 tbsp finely chopped shallots
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
Kosher salt to taste

Salad:
3 to 4 tbsp vegetable oil
4 cups quartered Brussels sprouts
¹⁄₄ cup crumbled queso fresco
¹⁄₃ cup toasted pumpkin seeds
Kosher salt to taste

In small bowl, whisk together all ingredients for Sherry Vinaigrette.

For Salad, heat oil in large skillet over medium heat. Add Brussels sprouts and cook, turning, until lightly browned, crisp on the outside and still firm on the inside. Transfer to paper towel.

Place sprouts in serving bowl while still warm. Stir in Sherry Vinaigrette., then queso fresco and pumpkin seeds. Add salt if necessary.

Makes 4 to 6 appetizer or side-dish servings.

I combined a couple of recipes I’ve tried to come up with what I feel is the definitive version.

This makes enough for at least 1 lb/500g of pasta, probably with some left over.

Bolognese Sauce

Use all ground beef if you wish. Imported Italian canned tomatoes work best, if possible San Romano.

3 tbsp olive oil
1 lb/500g ground beef
½ lb/250g ground pork
1 tsp kosher salt, or to taste
1 medium onion, chopped,
2 medium carrots, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup dry white wine
½ cup milk
Two 28-oz/795 mL cans tomatoes
1 tbsp dried basil
1 tsp dried oregano
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in large heavy saucepan over medium-high heat. Add beef, pork and salt; cook, mashing with potato masher and stirring with wooden spoon at intervals, until browned, about 5 minutes. Transfer to bowl.

Reduce heat to medium-low. Add remaining olive oil to saucepan, then onion and carrots. Cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic; cook about 2 minutes more.

Return beef/pork mixture to saucepan. Add wine; cook over medium heat until almost evaporated, about 5 minutes. Add milk; cook until almost evaporated, about 5 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high. Add tomatoes, basil and oregano. Bring to boil, stirring; reduce heat to very low and simmer, partially covered, 3 to 4 hours or until sauce is rich and thick. Add salt and pepper.

Serve over spaghetti or other pasta. Pass grated Parmesan and/or Romano cheese on the side.

Makes 6 to 8 servings.