Single Subject
Quince evokes mystery and magic as heat turns the fruit from woody to luscious
Washington Post - October 20, 2021
Quince is ginkgo-leaf yellow when ripe, and the pome is sensual to the eye and in hand — all Rubenesque curves and dimples. It was a symbol of love, happiness and fertility for the ancient Greeks. But its sauterne scent is the real seduction: honey, ripe pineapple and antique roses.
“In the orchard, the ripe fruit is so fragrant it’s a challenge to evaluate individual varieties for aroma,” says Joseph Postman, retired curator and plant pathologist at the U.S. Agriculture Department’s National Clonal Germplasm Repository.
Cutting into the fruit the first time is a strange experience. The flesh is dense, dry, a little woody even. The core has an almond-like shape, and the membrane containing the tiny mahogany seeds — the endocarp — is thick and tough. Slice the fruit into wedges and then carefully cut out the core by making a deepish V with a paring knife or using a melon baller. For kitchen tool geeks, a peach pitting spoon works a charm.
“In the orchard, the ripe fruit is so fragrant it’s a challenge to evaluate individual varieties for aroma,” says Joseph Postman, retired curator and plant pathologist at the U.S. Agriculture Department’s National Clonal Germplasm Repository.
Cutting into the fruit the first time is a strange experience. The flesh is dense, dry, a little woody even. The core has an almond-like shape, and the membrane containing the tiny mahogany seeds — the endocarp — is thick and tough. Slice the fruit into wedges and then carefully cut out the core by making a deepish V with a paring knife or using a melon baller. For kitchen tool geeks, a peach pitting spoon works a charm.
Profile
How acclaimed Chicago chef Iliana Regan found her bliss in the woods
Washington Post - August 12, 2019
Chef Iliana Regan drives the last nine miles into the Milkweed Inn like a teenager, with reckless abandon. She jerks the steering wheel back and forth in a futile attempt to limit the impact of crater-size potholes on the single-track logging road. Branches slap the windows, and rocks slam the Jeep’s undercarriage. Her obsession: two large Lake Superior trout she left smoking over an open fire at the inn and the sporadic droplets on the windshield promising rain.
She skids to a halt near a large log cabin, cutting the engine and bounding from the vehicle in one swift move. The fish are dangling undisturbed from hooks over a slow-burning fire. She quietly fusses with them, and they turn up later as the centerpiece of a homestyle dinner, the pale coral flesh succulent with just a scattering of translucent salt shards.
She skids to a halt near a large log cabin, cutting the engine and bounding from the vehicle in one swift move. The fish are dangling undisturbed from hooks over a slow-burning fire. She quietly fusses with them, and they turn up later as the centerpiece of a homestyle dinner, the pale coral flesh succulent with just a scattering of translucent salt shards.
Trend
Why these chefs chose to set up restaurant on paths less travelled
The Globe and Mail - March 28, 2018
Impossible is a word often used to describe chef Magnus Nilsson's dream to operate a world-class restaurant in Jarpen, Sweden, a northern locality on the 63rd parallel – think Frobisher Bay or Davis Strait in Canada. But Faviken, the restaurant whose name rolls off the tongue like butter among food lovers, wasn't in the plans when he left Stockholm to travel north to his childhood home in the subarctic terrain. The rugged landscape and sparse population were a tonic. Weary of city living and disenchanted with a career spent parroting dishes and techniques he'd learned in France, he was initially hired to oversee the restaurant's wine cellar. In time, he took over the kitchen. But the restaurant as it is today didn't manifest itself overnight. He and the space evolved together. Faviken was Nilsson's homecoming. "I wouldn't have said yes to someone who proposed this kind of project," he says. "I wasn't supposed to stay."
Book Review
Joe Beef is Cooking for the End of the World
Taste Cooking - November 18, 2018
The second cookbook, like their first, The Art of Living According to Joe Beef, published in 2011, defies categorization. It’s a quirky, charming culinary journal of sorts with recipes. “Even we don’t know how to classify it,” McMillan admits. “Some people want to put it in the apocalypse section,” he jokes. There are photos of family, beloved friends, and employees, recipes from their restaurants, and thoughtfully written interludes on wildly diverse topics like “A Note on the Seventies’ Health Food Store,” and “Are You There God, It’s Me, David,” an elegy to the wines of Burgundy.
In his back-cover endorsement, Bourdain christened McMillan and Morin “the rogue princes of Canadian cuisine.” “I understand Tony’s point: A lot of Americans see Canada as a thing,” McMillan says. “Our scope is much smaller—we’re the rogue princes of this neighborhood.” Given their fierce pride in their Quebecois roots, it’s no surprise that the pair shrug off the nationalist sentiment. When they look outward, it’s toward a more immediate horizon. “We cook with the ingredients of the Atlantic Northeast,” says McMillan. “The Canadian cuisine of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the saltwater coast of Maine and Massachusetts.” Joe Beef’s chalkboard menu changes often, but it always includes oysters, a crisp, golden croquette of smoked meat or fish, and the classic lobster spaghetti for two.
In his back-cover endorsement, Bourdain christened McMillan and Morin “the rogue princes of Canadian cuisine.” “I understand Tony’s point: A lot of Americans see Canada as a thing,” McMillan says. “Our scope is much smaller—we’re the rogue princes of this neighborhood.” Given their fierce pride in their Quebecois roots, it’s no surprise that the pair shrug off the nationalist sentiment. When they look outward, it’s toward a more immediate horizon. “We cook with the ingredients of the Atlantic Northeast,” says McMillan. “The Canadian cuisine of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the saltwater coast of Maine and Massachusetts.” Joe Beef’s chalkboard menu changes often, but it always includes oysters, a crisp, golden croquette of smoked meat or fish, and the classic lobster spaghetti for two.
Opinion
Chef on Canada's Top 100 Restaurant list are challenging its structure and relevance in response to Black Lives Matter
The Globe and Mail - June 25, 2020
Restaurant Candide in Montreal threw down a gauntlet this week, challenging Canada’s 100 Best Restaurants list, and Canadian food media, to expand its focus beyond white chefs and restaurateurs. John Winter Russell, Candide’s chef and co-owner, ceded the restaurant’s 93rd spot on the list to Palme, a Caribbean restaurant in Montreal. David McMillan quickly followed suit, offering Joe Beef’s third-place to Bistro Nolah in Montreal’s West End.
Russell is the first person to publicly acknowledge the racial homogeneity of Canada’s 100 Best Restaurants (its gender disparity has long been a contentious point). Candide’s place on the list is a source of conflict for him. On social media, his mostly white friends are hailing him as an ally, and there’s no question the exposure from being on the list benefits the restaurant economically. “If the restaurant was full every day and I didn’t have to worry about selling it to people, I wouldn’t need the press,” he says.
Russell is the first person to publicly acknowledge the racial homogeneity of Canada’s 100 Best Restaurants (its gender disparity has long been a contentious point). Candide’s place on the list is a source of conflict for him. On social media, his mostly white friends are hailing him as an ally, and there’s no question the exposure from being on the list benefits the restaurant economically. “If the restaurant was full every day and I didn’t have to worry about selling it to people, I wouldn’t need the press,” he says.