Cinnamon Poached Pear Cakes

Sunday and I have a love affair going. It's no secret. I long for the day in the week when errands have been crossed off, work has been set aside for another day and I can just get lost in my kitchen. Sunday dinners are my favourite meal of the week because I have time to throw my love into it. My heart steers my actions, my actions follow along. And this Sunday was the same as those before it. One step blindly following the other with familiarity as it's guide.

I heard the alarm clock go off and as quickly and gently as possible reached over to quiet the morning noise. I knew my wife had a wedding shower to attend and we had limited face time with each other, so I soaked up the morning and hoped it would bleed into the afternoon. Wishful, maybe. I love the serenity of Sunday mornings and the only sound I want to hear are the birds chirping in the forest out back and my wife softly breathing beside me.
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Apple & Vanilla Tart Fine

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I woke up today to the muted colours in the forest behind our house and a pinch of light peaking from behind the clouds. It felt like rain, although I couldn't substantiate that from my position and with my eyes squinting and adjusting. It's my favourite moment of the day, partly awake and still kind of dreaming.

My wife was fast asleep, her eyes fluttering and her face so full of meaning. I stare at her across the bed from me and wonder if I'm dreaming. I could almost see the happiness hidden in that dream as a smile jumped on her face. I knew this would be a great, lazy day and the first moments would be spent watching her sleep. It's the small things that matter, especially when something is about to rip you from your bed.
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Sweet Disposition: Raspberry, Mint and Pistachio Crumb Tart

I remember when the sadness fell over me. I can almost pinpoint the moment when the emotional dagger pierced my skin. I had been the happy-go-lucky kid with a smile that was always painted on my face until that time. And then it ended. Suddenly, and without warning.

I grew up with my mom but as is the case with most split-parent households, I spent time with my dad. Although the majority of my time was spent in the brick house I grew up in, I would visit my dad on weekends and once in a while in between. One day that changed. I moved in with my dad full-time somewhere around age 13. It was different, but it would be fine. I thought.
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Pavlova Two Ways: Vanilla-Scented Strawberry and Raspberry Compote with Crushed Pistachios

It's amazing how long a regular work weeks feels following a week cut short from a holiday. The standard five day work week, normally so ingrained in all of us that our internal clock goes off at 5pm sharp on Fridays, feels instead like an eternity. By the time I pull in my driveway Friday night, I feel like raising the flag and surrendering.

Thank goodness for weekends.
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Strawberry & Mint Granita

These last two days have been wonderful. One thing cascading down after the other, like a life-sized game of dominoes. The weather, finally exhausted after months of cold wind and bursts of storms, has settled in, relaxed and shown herself in the form of warm days filled with bright sunshine.

The temperature has risen methodically and substantially in recent days and the windows in our homes and cars, long ago closed and practically stuck after prolonged periods in that position, have been opened up for all that fresh air to push over us.

Also, after a week that felt like an eternity, my wife is finally back home. I waited patiently and eagerly at the airport for her through delays, but nothing was going to deflate my mood. When she finally came through the sliding doors it was like seeing the sun over the morning landscape. It was a sight for sore eyes and it was refreshing as the vision washed over me.
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Raspberry Soufflé

The work day and week has ended and it's Friday night. I'm driving up my street to the house on the left and my spot on the right side of the driveway. It's familiar. It's home. As soon as my key smoothly slides into the door it's as if I'm unlocking the weekend and lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders. Be gone.


Some people despise routines. I, on the other hand, love that familiar tone. Sure, it's nice to break free and try new things and be spontaneous, but it's also nice knowing what's happening without having to ask. Like Friday nights in my kitchen and dinner with my wife. It's the small stuff that matters to me. A thousand days worth of small stuff that fills up my memory and fuels me. All those yesterdays.
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Spiced Carrot Cake with Orange Cream Cheese Frosting

April is caught in the revolving door between warm days and cold nights, looking for an identity to cling to and take home. The bitter early mornings of winter have been ushered aside as the sun takes its post earlier each day. The afternoon warmth beats down harder and longer after a long hiatus and climbs into the early evenings alongside us. And brings hope.

We love everything about this time of year. The long walks with our dog after work, which change in length and appearance depending on the weather. The photo shoots at dawn and the way the sun dances on the horizon, just out of reach. And cooking and eating in the natural light. We spend the better part of winter locked in her grasp and stuck inside that the first chance to get out is welcomed with open arms. 
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Lemon, Blueberry & Coconut Cupcakes

The breath of spring's arrival brushes my skin in the afternoon these days, reminding me of her impending visit. The signs are there, albeit hidden most days. The lighter evenings and longer days remind me of a story I've read a few times before. Although the usual tell tale signs are hibernating, it's obvious to me that she stands among us. And it's a beautiful sight.

I see people smiling longer than usual. Smiling at all. The grass is stretching in my backyard and fighting for the rays of sun that touch down for hours upon hours. I'm noticing neighbours who have all but disappeared for four to five months leaving their houses and walking their dogs. Cute little dogs. And I feel that breath. Warm breath.
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Lime Cheesecake Tartlets

The temperature outside has been flirting with us for days now. This winter has been particularly long and rough and my wife and I are are clinging to memories and pictures from last spring to remind us of the potential in store. Fresh flowers, herb gardens and picnics in the backyard with seasonal finds that have hibernated since the end of last spring. Like us.

The snow outside melts just long enough to give us a glimpse of the green grass beneath it when another wave hits down and smothers all hope of an early spring. One storm after another that does more than paint the yard white, it muffles our energy and affects our spirit. Temporarily.
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Strawberry & Plum Crumble

Winter is knocking. The first day of spring has officially come and gone and yet the threat of one last winter storm lingers. After celebrating the dawn of a new season with warm air pushing past our faces and the birds regaining their rightful place on the branches of the nearby trees, we're now left bracing for another snowstorm that threatens to keep us locked inside our homes. Again.

We've been playing with the thermostat in our house the last few days, shifting it back and forth from on to off to on like a teeter-totter. And the recipes that drift from the kitchen have turned to lighter fare and away from the foods that have warmed us and kept us company for the last few months. Spring has arrived but for one more day at least I'll be turning to an old friend.
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Molten Chocolate Cupcakes

Each day when the sun breaks through and the temperature begins to flirt with us, we momentarily escape from winter's grasp and envision the beauty and charm that accompany spring-like weather. We head to bed at night with promise that tomorrow will be just as tantalizing and bring even more hope. That's when winter gathers all her energy and power and reminds us that we're not in charge. 

Today was one of those days. We woke up to the sounds of mother nature beating on our windows and the snow blowing fast and hard. The coffee that usually warms us from the inside out was no match for the fury outside. It was cold and blustery and everything I didn't want to face today. I felt like crawling back to bed and tucking the duvet under my feet and pulling the covers as tight as possible. 

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Salted Fudge Brownies

I was about six years old when my parents bought their first home. We were on a major street in Toronto, one house in from the corner. The moving truck filled the driveway and the movers were working feverishly to unload the truck and all of its contents. Our contents. I spent the first hour hanging out in the backyard trying to stay out of their way. That's when I noticed them first.

A group of kids came strolling up the driveway. One by one they introduced themselves to me and welcomed me to the neighbourhood. They asked me if I wanted to play and before I could utter a single word my parents gave me the go ahead and I was running down the side street with my new friends. A bunch of kids I didn't know an hour earlier or at any other point in my young life. Five kids that would be soon become the fabric of my life for years to come.

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Baked Chocolate Pudding

This is my 100th post. A moment to celebrate and recall some of my fondest memories since doing this. It's also a chance to share with you one of my favourite recipes, a baked chocolate pudding that I turn to when I'm in a pinch for time and want something delicious that oozes chocolate goodness for dessert. Serve it with berries or cream or creme fraiche. Either way, this is top shelf.

I love looking back on my first few posts. I like to think that in a short time I've come a long way. As a matter of fact, some of my earliest posts are cringe-worthy, like looking back on old school photos when you thought you could rock a certain outfit for picture day and live to regret it every time someone reaches for the photo album. That's what looking back on my first few images is like. I laugh. I squint and cringe.


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Lemon Sponge Pudding

My wife and I love to entertain. It's a great excuse to have friends over and steal memories from one another. I used to believe it was the food that made the night but I now know differently, it's all about the people you surround yourself with. Great individuals from different backgrounds with equally important voices to be heard. All of us unique as much as we are similar.

Last night we had a couple of friends arriving from Germany and spending the night with us. For them it was just their first stop on a two week vacation, but for us it was more than that. It was an opportunity to establish new beginnings and set them up for a trip they'll never forget. Whenever we have friends staying with us we like to give them some love and hospitality.
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Frozen Banana Bombs

I used to spend a couple of weeks every summer outside the city and at my grandparents. Those hot days in July and August were like fresh flowers and freedom. It was an escape from poor air quality and congestion. It was an escape to a simpler way of life.

I would waste spend hours outside by myself throwing the ball against the fence. When you grow up an only child you find ways to keep yourself busy and happy. And when I visited with grandparents, I was just that. I would play in the gigantic backyard trees with roots big enough to dig under the neighbouring property. I would catch butterflies, or at least try. I would do anything to stay in the moment. The days there would turn into nights with a blink of an eye and I couldn't count sheep fast enough so I would awake to another bright day.

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Nutella Caramel Squares

I remember the moment. I was 10 years old. I was staying over at a friend's house and woke up to a different routine. Instead of squinting and rubbing my eyes and smelling bacon drifting from the kitchen, I smelled toast and chocolate. Did I sleep through the day? Did I wake up in parallel universe where dessert was served after every meal, including breakfast? 

We went downstairs and I saw the jar. And the plate with chocolate-covered toast. My world would never be the same again. The taste has stayed with me all those years. There was an alternative to bacon and eggs and I was a fan.

Up until that moment in time Nutella was a foreign word to me. I had never heard of it, never tasted it. I'm as big a chocolate fan as the next person but it didn't dawn on me that it worked on toast as well. In hindsight, how could it not? Chocolate rolls with everything. Waking up that day to a cup of juice with  chocolate and hazelnut on a crispy piece of bread changed the way I looked at food. It no longer was something resigned to the forms you grew up knowing. 

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Kahlua Chocolate Pots de Creme & Thyme Whipped Cream

This is my lunchbox revival. A chance to remember the moments that are hard to forget. I can flip through the written pages in my mind to a time when chocolate pudding was synonymous with cafeterias and school lunches and being a kid. I can even remember the sound made when you pulled back the plastic lid on your pudding like it was yesterday. I lived for lunchtime. Dessert time.


Growing up chocolate was my calling card. If Superman had kryptonite, I had that. It made me weak and foolish. If my mom needed something done around the house it would be followed with a threat of no dessert, no chocolate. I don't know if that's even legal. Certainly there's some unwritten parent code that you can't pull out the no-dessert comment to get something done. It doesn't even work.


Ok, it worked.

As the years have passed, the same bad good habits have followed me. I still need chocolate to pull me out of a funk and I can still be bribed with it. Sad. You would think I learned my lesson by now and be mentally strong enough to withstand it. I'm not. Luckily i'm the one making dinner and dessert now. I have a bit more say on the direction it takes.


I wanted to make something that satisfied my chocolate needs in a dessert that harks back to those younger, sometimes better days. This is my grown up version. A rich and thick pudding loaded with flavour that's like having a chocolate injection after dinner. 

This recipe is a traditional French custard. Although it often calls for dark chocolate,  I used milk-chocolate because it gives me a smooth and silky finish to the pudding. It's just a bit smoother which is the way I like it. It's the perfect dessert because the prep is quick and the presentation is easy. 


Enjoy this the next time you have guests coming over or surprise your partner with this on Valentine's Day (speaking of which, food and poetry is the best way to your partner's hear. See below). You can make it a couple days ahead of time serve them in countless different vessels. I used small coffee cups but the choice is yours.


From my kitchen to yours, happy eating!

Kahlua Chocolate Pots de Creme


The Goods:

• 1 1/2 cups heavy cream
• 1/4 cup Kahlua
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 6 oz. milk-chocolate, chopped
• 6 egg yolks
• 1 tbsp. sugar
• pinch of salt
• whipped cream mix with 2 tbsp. finely chopped thyme, for garnish
• Shaved chocolate, for garnish

Prep:

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
2. Add the chopped chocolate to a large bowl and let sit. Meanwhile, heat the cream and a pinch of salt in a saucepan until it just comes to a bowl. Remove from the heat and pour the hot cream over the chocolate and whisk until smooth. Once it cools slightly, add in the Kahlua and vanilla and stir.
3. In another mixing bowl, whisk the egg yolks and sugar to blend. Slowly add in the warm chocolate mixture while stirring often. Strain the entire mixture through a sieve into another bowl and let cool for 10 minutes.
4. Divide the mixture amongst 6 ramekins or cups 3/4 cup in size. Cover each with foil and place on a baking pan filled with hot water so the cups are half-immersed in water. 
5. Bake for 30 minutes or until set but middle moves slightly when shaken. Remove from the water and remove foil. 
6. Cover each with plastic wrap and chill until cold, about 3 hours.
7. Serves 6.

**Valentine's Day is right around the corner now. I'd like to think I won my wife over with my food, but that wasn't entirely the case. I wrote stories and poems to her, and in honour of the most romantic day of the year I give you this: the first poem I ever wrote to her.

Listening to jazz--
punctuated by falling rain
as it hits each window pane--
my mind wanders in and out of you,
curious, yet
cautious

I make excuses
why you're not quite for me
when really
I've no right to say--
but everyone before you
has ended in just
me,
so why should now be
any different?

Not that i'm looking for a
we--
not just yet, but
maybe
someday
when my heart finally decides
to fall for this mysterious woman
in the unwritten pages of my future,
when i'm no longer a fool for trying
because I don't have to try
I just have to be
me--

And then I'll be there
and one
with you
and we'll embrace
listening to jazz
punctuated by falling rain
as it hits each window pane--
and we'll laugh at how incomplete
the music was before us
and we'll weep at the beautiful harmony
we create--
you and me.
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Chocolate Soufflé

I don't remember the first time it started taking shape. I've been fascinated with food and for as long as I can remember I've always collected them. When my friends would collect sports cards or, dare I say it, coins (well, not my friends but somebody was doing it) I would be trying to get my hands on a new cookbook. Like a vinyl record, I couldn't wait to get it home and enjoy it. But after I get them they tend to sit for long periods of time. 

I still flip through them. I love the sound and feeling of the pages pushing one another over like dominoes. I'll grab a cup of coffee in the morning and look at the pictures for inspiration. Some of the images are straight up food porn, both tempting and mouth-watering. Now I don't usually recite a recipe or copy down main components of it. It's just not my thing. But I will use the recipe as my muse and flip the switch on it. 



I can remember the moment when I first saw this image of a souffle a few years ago and it has stuck with me. It wasn't chocolate but it was lovely enough to cling to one of the banks where my memory washes up to from time to time. It was a raspberry souffle that looked incredibly fluffy and light. To this day when I think of a souffle I think of that beautiful picture. It hooked me in. Big fish style.

The problem that stymied me was trying to make this lovely chocolate creation. I used to look at an image of a souffle and convince myself that it wasn't in my repertoire. It looked too beautiful, too scientific, too French. I thought there was a secret to the madness and I didn't hold the key to unlock it. So I passed on it. Again and again. But one day came when I threw caution to the wind and decided I would attempt to climb that mental mountain. 

I now regret all those years of waiting.


A great soufflé has to be light with a thick, creamy interior. Some chocolate soufflé recipes are made with cocoa alone, but I prefer a good quality dark chocolate incorporated with cocoa when I make mine and the results speak for themselves. The key is using the best quality chocolate you can buy, which goes without saying. The first bite will have you singing. It's really, really good. Almost orgasmic.


The really fascinating thing about making your own soufflé is watching them rise in the oven. It's the show before the main event. It's kind of like sitting by your window as a kid and eagerly awaiting for all your friends to show up. And they always did. 


The key in making the soufflé rise is brushing your butter in strokes upwards on the inside your ramekin or dish. It helps guide the mixture up and out, almost guiding it as it moves. And when it starts to inch up inside the oven you won't be able to contain your happiness. You'll always remember that moment the first time you make it.

If loving souffles wasn't bad enough, I also have this thing for chocolate. I crave it and usually can't get enough of it. It's the sweet and savoury aspect that locks me in. I'm hooked, and I don't see it changing any time soon. From the first bite to the last, this souffle satisfies those needs. It oozes chocolate goodness. It's rich and wonderful. 


The best part of a recipe like this is sharing it with your favourite person in the world. That's an easy one for me. My wife. She's off on a shoot today. She had to drive through a snowstorm to a destination a couple hours away, but I can't wait to have this with her when she gets back. The sweet finish to a great day!


From my kitchen to yours, happy eating!

Chocolate Souffle

The Goods:

• 3 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
• 3 tbsp. cocoa powder
• 3 tbsp. sugar
• 3 large egg whites
• 50 grams dark chocolate (70% cocoa), grated
• 1/4 cup cold water
• 1 vanilla pod
• pinch of salt

Prep:

1. Brush the softened butter over the sides and bottom of the ramekin. For the sides, apply upward strokes to allow the souffle to rise vertically. Next, mix some of the grated chocolate and sugar and pour into one ramekin, shake it around so all sides are covered and dump into the next ramekin. Once both are coated, refridgerate until ready.
2. Using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites in a bowl until they are foamy. Add 1/3 cup sugar and beat gradually. Continue until the egg whites have medium-soft peaks.
3. Meanwhile, stir the chopped chocolate in a bowl over a saucepan with simmering water until melted. Remove from the heat. Add the water and cocao powder and  mix until combined and smooth. Fold a bit of the egg mixture into the chocolate mixture. Fold more, 1/4 at a time, until well combined.
4. Divide the souffle batter among the ramekins and, using a butter knife, level the the top so it's flush with the top of each ramekin. Wipe the edge clean.
5. Bake the souffles on a baking sheet until they lift up by an 1" or more, but are still moist in the middle, about 12 minutes.
6. Serves 2.

 
**This post made Foodbuzz Top 9!

Roasted Stuffed Peaches with Rum and Crushed Amaretti

Patience is not one of my strong points. It's taken me years to demonstrate even the first signs of restraint. As a kid I never mastered the art of waiting, and I couldn't contain myself until Christmas day to open my presents. I still remember sneaking upstairs when I was 10 and finding a hockey sweater I was dying to get. Christmas day rolled around and my acting chops rivalled David Caruso on CSI. I straight up overacted! I was caught. Lesson not learned.

Today I have a hard time holding on to a recipe I've tweaked, adapted or come up with. It's hard enough scheduling a post to go live in a few days and waiting. So the chances of of me holding out and making this dessert in the summer are all but washed away. I don't have it in me. I'm a mental midget.
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Lemon Parfait with Berry Compote

It's the middle of winter here and the snow is coming in waves. One fall after the other it refuses to pack up and leave. The pillowy white stuff is overshadowed only by the relentless wind that snaps at my skin whenever I step outside. I battle the elements everyday as I try to clear my property, but it seems futile as the snow shifts across the banks and back onto my freshly cleared path. My spirit is temporarily crushed and my bones are cold.

There is one thing that keeps me company as I fight the losing fight. The fresh aroma of baked goods that come from the oven and kitchen and fill the house all the way to the entrance. When I finally step inside and shake the clumps of snow clutching my pants like fists, I'm instantly transported to a more comforting place. I can instantly pick up the notes and flavours that heighten with each passing minute. It's almost as if the first spoonful has touched my tongue and warmed me from the inside out.
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