Recipe Blogs

Archived from May 25, 2023:

My favourite recipes always take days to make.

They start, in spirit, with a text, or running into someone I haven’t seen in a while. I wake up, maybe the sun is shining, maybe the birds are singing; “Hey, dinner soon?”
Some back and forth ensues, it always takes a few tries to find a time that works. Sometimes these dinners wind up being scattered throughout the city, at different restaurants or bars. Suede and leather seats, dimly lit, cutlery chiming away, taking the Toronto gamble on friendly service. I enjoy these nights, but they never quite have the same warmth as having friends in my home. Once a date is decided, the really recipe beings.

• First send a series of texts asking about preferences and restrictions. Fish? Vegetarian? Italian? Thai? Chocolate or fruit dessert? Some folks love making requests, others less so, make sure to take this into account. Best practice is to make some suggestions to help pare down the choices, but remember, part of hosting is filling in the gaps.
• Next write up a grocery list. It’s also important to double check what’s in the pantry and freezer. Sometimes, this step serves not only as an inventory, but a source of inspiration, honing in on what the recipe will look like.
• Once your list is ready, it’s time to go to the store. While grocery shopping is not frequently an enjoyed activity, it is imperative you romanticize this trip; you’re cooking for a loved one, after all. Ideally, shop at many small places, with cramped aisles and handwritten signs. Even better, buy yourself small treats as you wander: a coffee, a croissant, sweet berries.
• When the groceries are bought and put away, be sure to tidy up. If the urge struck during your shopping, now is the time to trim your flowers and set them out. A lived in home is a good thing, but so is a clean kitchen and set table. Don’t forget a pitcher of water.
• Finally, cooking actually begins. This should start in accordance with what your menu needs and this is where your personal technique will be most important. Work at a comfortable pace, with snacks prepared for your guests arrival. Dinner itself should never be rushed. Cut the mise-en-place with care, bake dessert with attention, taste as you go and adjust with patience, with tenderness and with consideration.
• The recipe is complete when the door is locked, the dishes clean and the lights are off. The food may be the catalyst, but every aspect of the evening becomes the whole. It is a timely endeavour, and a worthwhile one.

I suppose all of these extra steps, these considerations and time could, as a whole, be characterized as the “secret ingredient of love”. I’ve always found the term a bit corny, but as someone who cares so deeply about food, it also rings true. I have never held to the old rule of not making a new recipe for guests, I simply trust my skills and my care to total as something I am happy to offer. I’m not one for actual recipes, either. Even when I consult one, I have a tendency to make changes as I go. This style isn’t for everyone, but it is for me. I think this is not only because of my own preferences, but to make sure that each experience is curated with my guests in mind, top to bottom. Remembering someone loves cilantro, can’t handle spice, prefers a vinaigrette over a thicker salad dressing. Small pivots, culminated over days in the hopes of my feelings manifesting on a plate. This isn’t to say that only elaborate things are worth making for those you love, but rather making something you know will nourish, body and soul. After all, it’s definitely called comfort food for a reason.

Food has been important to me for as long as I can remember; not just the act of eating, which I admittedly love, but more importantly, the act of feeding. I struggle to think of a truer and more material way to express love and care. We’re humans, and we have to eat. To me, cooking for the ones I love says, “I want you to survive, I want you to be nourished and healthy and I want you to be joyful while you do it.” Food is non-optional, so I cannot see why it shouldn’t be a source of joy whenever possible. Why that joy shouldn’t be shared? As with anything, this joy cannot be constant. As a matter of fact, it’s presence is probably amplified by the more lacklustre meals, by low energy days when the clouds float in and cooking feels a bit tedious. But even on bad days, what a delight to remember that good food is near. I speak often of small joys, and for me food is both minuscule and immense, a daily ritual that has led to a lifetime love. It is small snacks and elaborate meals, it is carefully considered and thrown together, it is specialty ingredients and pantry staples. It is a foundation upon which we all stand, and I, for one, hope it gets to be delicious.

As always, thank you for joining me, friends. Apologies (or maybe you’re welcome?) for a lighter and shorter week. My brain needed a bit of a pivot from the more structured essays lest it fell out of my ears. Fun fact, a couple weeks ago I asked a few friends the dish they most associated me to and the top 3 answers were katsu sandwiches, breakfast sandwiches and tacos. I sure do like a series of ingredients wrapped up in carbs.