Rattle Those Pots

“The age of your children is a key factor in how quickly you are served in a restaurant. We once had a waiter in Canada who said, ‘Could I get you your check?’ and we answered, ‘How about the menu first?’”
– Erma Bombeck

Greetings from Ottawa, or, as Thom calls it, “The Third-Coolest Capital in North America.” (Get it?) The landscape is dotted with people sunbathing in 55° weather. Yes, 55° Fahrenheit.

This is definitely a curious city. A few days ago on the sidewalk, a fellow down on his luck asked Thom for change – and then asked if he could buy Charlie.

And the other day while riding our bikes home from CB, we passed a middle-aged fellow on a residential street with a shopping cart, on top of which he’d balanced an enormous, 10-foot-long, rolled-up oriental rug. What made the sight colorful wasn’t that he was pushing the shopping cart with the rug around. The humor was that he was actually pushing the grocery cart with the giant rug while steadily pedaling a bike next to it. We already knew Ottawa was a very bike-friendly city, but we each had to look twice to make sure we were understanding.

The ever-present Canadian “Eh?” I’ve discovered, can not only be used as a question, but as a run-on statement, to signal agreement or sympathy:

“You read the story on the parliament scandal? It’s bad, eh?”
“Yeah sure is eh.”

I’ve visited with several Canadian folks here, in school and in our neighborhood, and from what I’ve gathered so far, people here think Americans are fanatically obsessed about germs and bacteria, and that we all like the same hideous Hollywood action movies that many of them seem to like.

The restaurants are always crowded here, so Ottawans like to eat out. But they eat very early in the evening. As one of many examples, we walked into a Thai restaurant at 8:45 pm on Friday night, to get dinner before a movie, and wondered why the normally crowded place was empty. Until, that is, we were told by a waiter closing the register that they were no longer serving; apparently, they trip the light fantastic on weekends by staying open late – until 9 pm. A nearby Chinese restaurant – which, coincidentally enough, also shuts down the house at 9 pm – took pity on us and let us in the door. There are also a bunch of restaurants and pubs open late, though, and some 24-hour diners close by, so we’re not wasting away. Eh.

We’ve gotten through all of the “Mother Sauces” at CB, and the other day we each needed to make a poached chicken with a sauce suprême. The quote of the week on my cooking progress comes from Chef Philippe during this class. He walked over to observe me saucing the chicken, just stood there looking perplexed for a few seconds, then wrested the small ladle from me and said, “You are ladling as if you have had a big stroke.” We needed to put the thick sauce evenly on top of the poached chicken, almost like an icing, and I was told that I was holding the ladle more like a stroke victim than a painter. I had it all twisted up and backward, I was told, and was moving toward me instead of moving lengthwise. (And now whenever I sauce things, I remember to be a “painter.”) Culinary school, while humiliating at times, is a blast. No doubt about it.

Earlier that same day, Chef Philippe offered quite a diatribe against the evils of Uncle Ben (as in rice) – or, as he calls him, “Mister Uncle Ben.” (I jot some of the chefs’ quotes from lectures down quickly when I can; otherwise, I’ll forget details and lose the humor. The thick French accent makes it twice as funny when he rants; I wish you could hear it.)

“These rice people,” he shouted, “they say, ‘We have an idea! We will make the rice so everyone can make it, whether it cooks for 10 minutes or 1 hour.’ It all tastes the same! Like… NOTHING!! ‘NOTHING’ is the taste!!” he hollered, banging a pot on the metal counter for emphasis.

He calmed down when we all jumped a bit, narrowed his eyes, and said “You want nothing to do with these people. If you have the Mister Uncle Ben’s at home…please, put it outside.” At this point he closed his eyes and sighed deeply: “It is a long battle that I fight, against the Mister Uncle Ben’s.” Philippe seemed somewhat mollified when we all pledged to “no longer support the Evil Rice.”

There are recycling bins for cardboard by the mailboxes at our apartment, and when I checked our mail yesterday, I saw that our neighbors had left an economy-sized empty box of Mister Uncle Ben’s in there. I got a cramp from laughing so suddenly.

Foodie Trivia

Funny Potato History
We are apparently not unique in our sheep mentality. Up until the late-18th century, French citizens “disdained the potato,” since it was “slave food, not worth eating” to them. In 1785, a French chemist and botanist named Antoine-Augustine Parmentier persuaded Louis XVI to let him plant 100 acres of potatoes outside of Paris, the ultimate goal being to “reduce the calamities of famine in the country.” Since the French refused to eat the lowly potato, Parmentier kept the acres heavily guarded by the King’s troops to arouse the curiosity of locals. It worked; locals believed that anything guarded for the king must be valuable. So one night, Parmentier let the guards off duty, in the hopes that local farmers would pillage the acres and plant the “valuable” potatoes on their own farms, which they did. From that starting point, cultivating and eating potatoes spread throughout the country, and today, several French potato dishes still are named after Parmentier.

“He was a bold man who first swallowed an oyster.”
– James I

Lobster Alert
If you’re at a restaurant, and they offer a lobster bisque or lobster sandwich, but you don’t see lobster offered anywhere else on the menu, chances are you’re eating lobster meat from a can (even if it’s written up as “fresh”). Nobody would go to the trouble and expense of buying fresh lobster and then only use it for soup or sandwiches, which are more “leftover-type” foods.

Beware the Fishy Fishmonger
Mussels shouldn’t be sold beyond one week of being harvested. Grocery stores and some fishmongers will sometimes remove the harvesting date from the label on the mesh bag, though, so they can sell the older stuff. If you’re buying mussels and see that the date’s missing, we were told, point it out vocally in front of people and chances are, you’ll get the freshest bag in the place – that time, and on future visits. Also, ask for “sushi grade” when you buy fish like salmon or tuna, even if you’re not making sushi. That way, the fish you get may be fresher since the merchant thinks you’re not cooking it and adding sauces/herbs that will mask the less-than-fresh flavor.

“This recipe is certainly silly. It says to separate the eggs, but it doesn’t say how far to separate them.” – Gracie Allen

“I’m at the age where food has taken the place of sex in my life. In fact, I’ve just had a mirror put over my kitchen table.” – Rodney Dangerfield

I hear happy clattering sounds in the kitchen, so I’m off to see what’s for dinner. Hope everybody’s doing well – somebody in DC go to Hard Times for me. Ciao, amici!

Jen