So, lets talk Breakfast: in my life so far, apart from an ever-was-ever-will-be love for an eggy cook up on the weekends, I’ve gone through a patchy bunch of breakfast lifestyles over the 30-something years I’ve been partaking of the ritual. From a routine, almost never changing path my mother kept us tenaciously on while growing up, of cereal/oats porridge one day, eggs on toast the next; to, rather mindlessly, eating nothing until noon; to keeping a box of pronutro at work, munched in distracted mouthfuls on the go, with office milk from a coffee cup; to my current routine of weekday, home made, raw muesli and yogurt over morning emails at home. I think you’ll all agree, with the last one, that I have finally come to my senses. What was I thinking, not eating breakfast, even for the shortest of times? The one thing all these phases have in common is that, during their reign they were each unwavering in their dedication to routine, to their steadfast persistence in my life.

Except. Every now and then one must mix it up a bit, non? I don’t use ‘mix it up a bit’ lightly, either. I’m talking Smoothies, people. Delicious, frosty, breakfast smoothies. Summer Heat is no match for Raspberry Banana Smoothie, reigning champ of the competition to cool your cucumber first thing in the morning.

Mmmm.

There are no specific rules here. Choose your favorite fruit(s), throw in a couple blocks of ice, add some yogurt, some fruit juice, a sweetener (and I don’t mean Equal) if you want, even some nuts and fiber. My favourite method is to use frozen berries of some sort in stead of ice cubes (raspberry in this case) and a banana that’s a little past it’s eating best. Add fat free, plain yogurt, a glug or two of Ceres fruit juice (or the juice of an orange/lime/grapefruit), a good handful of ground almonds and ground flax and a generous wallop of Molasses (which is not only super yummy, but loaded with all sorts of mineral healthiness.) Blitz for a few seconds with a hand blender or equivalent and Voila!

A small note: this breakfast is super speedy, so have the coffee ready first.

Strawberries?
Check!

Rubarb?
Check!

Custard?
Check!

It’s a staple we all know, love and gobble up whenever offered: a strawberry rhubarb pie with vanilla custard. There’s something as traditional and country living as tennis and Pimms about the whole thing and you know, with this combination, you simply can’t go wrong. As you’ve figured out by now, I love love love celebrating the seasonal changes as they come and go. I relish in buying fresh strawberries when they’re in season, and just as I very seldomly buy pineapples in December here in the Northern Hemisphere, you’d find me hard pressed to ignore a basket of deep red, lush and heavily scented punnet of fresh strawberries in spring. Even though said strawberries had to be rushed in from California because our season is a little behind here in Toronto. They may not be ripe in the fields here yet but my head is usually ripe to bursting ready for strawberries any time at all after April. If your mid morning drinking grandmother firmly believes that it’s twelve o’clock somewhere in the world (so bring me a G&T) then I’m of the belief that it’s Strawberry season somewhere too, so long as it’s warm enough in the garden to sit and eat them outside.

Here’s a little tart with a twist. A twisty tart, if you will. The pastry is light and biscuity, the filling creamy almond and the fresh strawberries so much more, well, Spring than the usual cooked version one typically does. Top it all with a great rhubarb compote and some fresh vanilla custard and your afternoon tea just became a springtime adventure.

A note about the custard: at the beginning of the year a friend kindly brought be a couple vanilla pods back from a trip to Zanzibar and I’ve been jealously hoarding them, waiting for the perfect thing to use them in; one where they are the focus and not hidden by too many other flavours. I’ve made custard plenty times before but never used a real vanilla bean. I guess it just felt like such an extravagance, but let me tell you: it’s true what you’ve heard. It takes the whole dish to a different level, and you can, you really, really can taste the difference. Give it a try!

The Summer in Toronto is one of the lustiest, I think, in the world.  Those steamy, heat-hazy, lazy-crazy, long-limbed days that wrap their humid, whispering tendrils around your bare throat and exposed shoulders do something inexplicable to this city and the people in it.  The girls, the boys, the dogs, the ducks: no one escapes the sensuality of it, we are all susceptible to Summer’s hot, sticky embrace.  But before we completely lose our heads to this love affair there is, as in any meaningful, dirty little tryst, the courtship; the tease, the tempt, the flirt and the fluster.  A few gorgeous, sunny days sauntering by our Wintery table at the end of April have us shaking out our hair in false hope of an early Summer, only to be firmly reminded that we are the flirtee, not the flirter, by a cold shoulder for half of May as we look longingly at our Summer wardrobes and the pretty, colourful mannequins in store windows.

And then, slowly, almost painfully, just when you think she’ll never notice you, that she has eyes only for the muscular, deep tan muscles of Texas, she.  Stops.  And turns that beautiful, golden head and looks you straight in the eye.  The Glory that radiates from Summer’s eyes envelopes us all, does it not?  But now that she’s seen you, now that you finally have her attention, how can you, such a humble little creature, keep that gorgeous gaze locked firmly with your own.  How to impress such a fickle lover, you ask?  Why, with a barbecue, of course.  If you cook up the coals just right, who knows, she may just stay for dessert.

Just don’t expect it.

I made these eggplants for a dinner party the first time, baked for about 40 minutes at 350˚F and had a bunch left over when we decided to open up the Weber .  Wrapped in foil, they were just so good and the left overs were somehow even better the next day when I removed the skins, spread the pulp and topping on toast and grilled with some gruyere in the oven for a couple of minutes.

* this recipe makes enough for about 5 or 6 baby eggplants.  Adjust accordingly.

Eggplant with Sundried Tomato and Shitake topping

Baby eggplants, halved
salt

⅓ cup sundried tomatoes in olive oil, drained
½ red onion, roughly chopped
sprig fresh thyme
small sprig rosemary
1 clove garlic
50g (big handful) shitake mushrooms
¼ tsp dried Italian herb mix

salt and pepper to taste
olive oil (about 60ml/¼ cup)

- cut the eggplants in half and salt generously.  Leave for an hour or so at room temperature.  Rinse and pat dry.

- place all ingredients (except eggplant) in a processor and blitz until finely chopped (or chop it all by hand). Season and add enough olive oil to for a thick, chunky paste close to but drier than a pesto.  Allow it to sit for 45 mins to develop.

- place eggplant halve skin side down on enough foil to fully wrap them ein.  Top with tomato mushroom mix and barbeque for about 30 minutes on the rack.

- serve with a generous amount of sunshine and chilled beverages.

Often the simplest things in life can act as a band aid to a bruised and weary soul.  A sudden scent of Lilac on a balmy summer evening after a crazy day; a long stroll through a pretty, gardened neighborhood after a cleansing spring shower; a fresh pot of tea at any time.  But can anything truly be said to be better than freshly baked bread?  Sliced thickly, with a generous smearing of fresh, cultured butter and homemade gooseberry jam this Maria Bread, an Italian loaf similar, but not, to Ciabatta, had to have been one of the most soothing culinary moments I’ve had in a very long time

Oh, yum.

I’m becoming Queen of the zippy Meal.  20 minutes to make dinner?  Not a problem!  A great tip to keeping things simple but tasty is to have some fresh herbs handy, to throw in right before serving.  There’s not a lot springier/summery than fresh herbs is there?  A resounding No!  Again, with all things simple and fast, the best quality ingredients you can lay your hands on the better.  If you’re having your pasta sans all-covering tomato-based sauciness, make it the best pasta you can get, fresh if possible.   A great dish eaten al fresco with a glass of Pinot Grigio next to the tulip bed.

Penne with Broccoli, Peas and Tuna

oh, and capers too.

olive oil for frying
1 large brown onion, thickly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ head broccoli, florets chopped
½ cup peas
1 Tbsp capers
1 tin whole/chunk tuna in water
fresh parsley and rosemary, chopped
olive oil, fleur de sel and Parmigiana for serving

penne

- heat the oil in a heavy based saucepan.  Sweat onions and garlic until starting to caramelise.

- Add the broccoli and peas and cook for a minute until colour of broccoli brightens.

- now add tuna and capers, cooking until heated through

- remove from heat. Stir in herbs and serve with a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkle of salt chunks and a shaving of cheese.

It always amazes me how quickly us humans adapt to new conditions in our lives (willingly or not) and form new habits to accommodate new problems. It also amazes me just how much of what we do on a day to day basis is, in fact, habit. I woke up a few days ago and realised that I had gotten into the habit, due to our fluffy new circumstances, of waiting until after 8pm to decide what to have for dinner. Not a convenient time to begin experimenting with exciting new ideas, and definitely not a good time to decide to take a duck breast out of the freezer. Looking back, the last while’s dinners have consisted of out-the-can and sauce-in-a-jar kind of dinners, with a fresh salad thrown on the side to ease the guilt of not having enough veg on the plate. Well, I’m trying to put that habit behind me again and take the time to think about what I’m putting onto my plate and down the hatch. We are what we eat, and I don’t feel like being Beans-on-toast any more. Not only did I actually remember to take the duck breast out the freezer the other day, I even had a vague idea of what I wanted to do with it. Something sweet yet sour, something with a big Asian edge, although undefined as to provenance of said “Asian” and something with sweet potatoes. Something a little, well, square for a change.

*apologies for the shoddy photo quality.  Sometimes one is so busy trying to make one’s chopsticks stand still, one forgets to check one’s ISO.

Duck Breast in a sweet/sour sauce
with Broccoli, Water Chestnuts and black sesame
and fried sweet potato

for the marinade/sauce:
1 clove of garlic, minced
½ tsp fresh, grated ginger
1 tsp honey
1 Tbsp Hoisin sauce
1 Tbsp sesame oil
1 tsp Chinese five spice
¼ cup grated apple (use crisp, green apples like granny smith)
juice from ½ small lime

about 500g duck breast, fat removed, thickly sliced
1 Tbsp oil for frying

for the broccoli:
1 tsp veg oil
3 spring onions, thickly sliced
½ head of broccoli, chopped
1 can (8oz/230ml) water chestnuts, drained
3 tsp black sesame seeds

for the sweet potato:
1 medium sweet potato, peeled and chopped into 1 inch pieces
2 Tbsp sesame oil
peanut oil (or veg oil) for frying

-first, mix all the ingredients for the marinade in a bowl and add the duck breast. Let marinade for as long as you can (I only left mine for 40 mins and it was great)

- par-boil the sweet potato for about 5 minutes until almost cooked, but still very firm

- heat oil in a large, heavy bottomed pan on medium. Add the duck and it’s marinade and cook gently until done. You should end up with a juicy sauce. Set aside, cover with foil to keep warm.

- meanwhile, heat the sesame and veg oil for frying the sweet potato and fry, turning occasionally until tender and slightly browned.

- stir fry the spring onions, broccoli and water chestnuts in the duck breast pan. Add the sesame seeds after 5 minutes and cook for another minute or so.

- remove sweet potato and drain before serving.

Okay. I’m sorry for the awful pun. Although, I know that once you taste this scrumptious little mound of deliciousness you’ll forgive me in an instant. I’ve been holding on to this little gem for a while now, not because I didn’t want to share, but because it somehow, as things occasionally do in the manic digital mayhem that can be our lives, got lost in the ether, so to speak. Having finally surfaced from wherever it is that pear puddings go to holiday, I’m finally getting around to sharing it. This pudding seemed to be thwarted at so many points in it’s short life at it’s time in the lime light. Having been originally made to appear as a piece de resistance at the end of one of more decadent dinners the ever fabulous Mr P and I hosted, it was politely refused it’s place of glory when a second dessert appeared, as if by magic, in the hands of one of our guests. Not having been the first time a guest has brought a dessert to the table (and let me tell you, what a dessert it was! A pear pudding knows when to gracefully bow out to superior forces) I was well versed at organising a suitable Sunday Tea for the consumption of said pudding. However, a pear pudding’s prime not being as long as Madonna’s, a new set of Tea Guests were sadly disappointed with a somewhat dry, if tasty, bit of pud. Not to be out done, Pear Pudding was dutifully recreated to it’s original glory and enjoyed by all. I love a happy ending, don’t you?

Having the visual idea in my head of what I wanted my pear pudding to look like, but no recipe to follow or adapt, I did the next best thing and combined a couple of different recipe’s. I used the basics from a Women’s Weekly Pear Tart Tatin (from their New French Food cookbook) to caramelise the pears and a basic pudding recipe for the rest (thanks grandma). Best served with clotted cream.

Caramelised Pear Pudding

for the caramel pears
3 large Bosc pears, peeled, halved and cored
90g butter
½ cup firmly packed brown sugar
½ cup cream

for the pudding batter
½ cup butter, softened
⅓ cup firmly packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp cinnamon

- slice the pears length ways into 1cm (½”) wide slices, keeping their peary shape. Keep the middle, pear shaped slices whole and chop the remaining bits into cubes. You need about 10 of the pear shaped slices for the sides of the pudding basin.

- heat the butter, sugar and cream slowly in a large, heavy based saucepan, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Add the pear slices and chopped bits to the caramel and bring to the boil.

- simmer over a low heat, turning the pears every so often, for about 25 minutes, until the pears are tender. Remove from heat, drain pears from caramel, reserving sauce.

- preheat the oven to 350˚F and grease a 500ml pudding basin

- for the batter, beat the butter and sugar until creamy.

- beat in the eggs, one at a time.

- sift together the flour, baking powder and cinnamon. Add to the egg mixture and mix until just incorporated.

- stir in small, chopped pear pieces

- line your greased pudding bowl with the pear shaped slices, alternating head to toe. Us two slices to line the bottom of the basin. (chop up any remaining pieces and add to pudding batter.)

- coat the pears in half the reserved caramel.

- fill the basin with pudding mixture and top with the rest of the caramel sauce.

- bake in the middle of the oven for 25 to 35 minutes (checking often after 25 mins) until set in the middle.

You know the saying, “when life gives you lemons, make lemon aide”, well my philosophy in life runs in the same vein: When the banana’s of your life turn black, make banana bread.” Which is my way of saying, when life’s being a little rough with you, eat cake. Also, it ties in rather neatly with my Waste-not-want-not upbringing. For a change, however, it being The Season of Great Changes and all, I eschewed all things expected and made something a little crazier. When asked to provide, and I quote, A Simple, No Fuss (with a pointed raised eyebrow, Ms Vickers) Dessert for an evening of screaming and gasping over the new series of Battlestar Galactica, what better remedy to such an unnatural request than brownies; and with those last two, very black banana’s staring at me from the bottom of the dusty fruit bowl, what else could I do but provide Banana Chocolate Brownies? These turned out to be a bit drier than my normal brownie recipe, which I usually diligently obey Nigella’s instruction on, but that made them just perfect with a big, yummy scoop of banana ice-cream.

*note: I put a cup of walnuts on top of the mixture before baking to make a walnut-like crust, but go ahead and mix them into the batter before baking. Ditto with the white choc chips, or go super wild and use dark choc chips for extra punch.

Banana Chocolate Brownies

adapted from The Canadian Living Test Kitchen

80 ml butter (⅓ cup)
185g dark chocolate, chopped (I used a mix of 60 and 70%)
150ml sugar (⅔ cup)
2 eggs
Heaping, oozing ½ cup mashed, ripe banana (the blacker the better)
2 tsp Vanilla
150ml flour (⅔ cup)
1tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
¼ cup white chocolate chips
1 cup walnuts, broken up

- pre-heat oven to 350˚F

- line an 8″ square baking tin (or equivalent)

-in a heavy bottomed saucepan, melt chocolate and butter. Let cool a bit, then whisk in the sugar.

- in a separate bowl, whisk the eggs with the banana and vanilla. Add to the chocolate mix.

- whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt, sift into chocolate and mix well.

- scraped into baking tin, top with nuts.

- bake for about 30 mins until set in the middle. Remove from oven, top with white chocolate chips and allow to cool for about 10 minutes before cutting.

I have been gone a while. This year, so far, seems to have consisted of fits and starts. Blogging wise, in any case. This time, however, I have an excuse that I dare you to contest. In fact, anyone who’s done this before will stand by me in acknowledging that an adorably cute and infinitely cuddly new member to the family would distract even the most stalwart of food bloggers. May I introduce our bella Stella negra. And between madam cuddle-bottom and the glories of the exploding spring I’ve been rather busy, you see. Watch this space.

Being a busy and sometimes flustered new puppy owner, ahem, I’ve been limiting my cooking to the realm of Quick and Easy. While juggling work deadlines, puppy feeding and copious sweeping, mopping and tidying of floors and fur I’ve had little energy left for elaborate and fussy dinners and lunches. And while I’m looking forward to the day I’m back at the fuss and elaborations, for the moment I’m quite content to pull a dinner together from that which lurks at the back of the pantry. This tomato soup is a perfect compromise of needing to embrace a fresher palate for the wonderful, warm Spring weather we’ve been having and a no fuss, quick-as-you-like dinner, taking 15 minutes from can opener to toast dunk. This is a perfect amount for two, so double up if you want left overs for lunch or to feed more people.

Tomato Soup with Fennel Seed and Basil

1 Tbsp or so vegetable oil (I used grapeseed)
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ tsp dried thyme
1 tsp fennel seeds, whole
2 Tbsp tomato paste
½ 28oz can whole, peeled Italian tomatoes, with juice
1 cup vegetable stock
salt and pepper to taste
handful fresh basil, chopped
Parmesan or parmigiana shavings

- heat oil in a medium saucepan. Gently saute garlic until fragrant, then add herbs and tomato paste, saute for about a minute.

- add tomatoes, juice and stock. Bring to the boil and simmer for 5 or 6 minutes before seasoning to taste.

- Remove from heat and blend until smooth.

- Just before serving, stir in basil (keeping some for garnish)

- top with parmesan shavings and sere with olive oil coated toast