Featured Recipe


Along with daffodils and robins, the sight of rhubarb on grocery store shelves is a sure sign of spring. Long, slender, pink stalks can be found from the end of January to May. Rhubarb is a very tart tasting vegetable that's most commonly used in desserts. The added sugar is what makes it palatable. If you buy it at a grocery store, chances are the rhubarb is ready to go. But, if you pick your own, make sure to remove every trace of the toxic green leaves before using the stalks. Trim off the ends and pull of any stringy bits, then prepare it according to the recipe's suggestion.

I must admit that rhubarb and I have only just recently met. Intrigued by the pretty pink stalks, I was nevertheless convinced that only a masochistic would subject herself to what I had been told was an extreme mouth-puckering tartness. Please understand, I actually really like tart and bitter flavours. I'll gladly dine on rapini, extra-dark chocolate and a bottle of chinotto (although not necessarily all together). But, what's the point of eating something so unpleasant. Then one spring, I bit into a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie. Ahhh… heaven. The sweet, ripened strawberries were completely balanced by the bits of tart rhubarb. I had finally figured it out: rhubarb plays the supporting actress that brings out the best in the lead.

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There are those among us who revel in the frigid temperatures of the season and the mounds of snow. These are hardy souls. I have to admit that I can't count myself among them. Those cold winds that blow keep me indoors, ensconced in front of the fireplace, comfort food and a glass of wine at my side. Even the thought of venturing out freezes my blood. At this time of year, I can't help but look longingly forward to spring. Come March, Mother Nature could throw her worst at me, and it wouldn't matter. I know that soon the snow will be a distant memory and the winds will be warm and pleasant. The February/March issue of Tidings Magazine brings you a whole host of ideas to bid farewell to winter and herald in the spring.

 

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There’s a revolution happening in Spain. Actually, it’s been raging for well over a decade, if not two. Old ways and ideas are being tried, judged heretical and executed. A new religion based on quality and character is driving out the old, the tired, the bland. Where quantity ruled, quality is usurping. Fresh, distinct and individual are the new sacred verses. Though it’s not an ecclesiastical upheaval per se, it is altering (pardon the pun) the nature of one of Spain’s most revered consumables.

Wine, you say? Been there, done that. Spain nailed (ahem) the wine thing eons ago. It’s the nectar of another fruit: a juice that is treated with the same reverence, the same intense passion and, in fact, the same degree of experimentation and technical ingenuity lavished on the country’s finest vintages. We’re talking extra virgin olive oil — the new Spanish doubloon. 

Spain’s 2.3 million hectares of olive groves (encompassing some 350 million individual trees) were first planted during the time of the Phoenicians who landed in the country around 1050 BCE. Today, over 1,700 producers press about 90 million kilograms of olives per harvest year. The bulk of production lies in the southern areas with the region of Andalucía accounting for almost half of the total output.

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February has the dubious distinction of being the coldest of winter months. I have to chuckle at that little fact since we, here in Southern Ontario, just braved through the last four weeks of frigid and damp cold. What could possibly feel colder than a windchill of -20°C blowing off the Great Lakes? But don't fret, spring will be here soon. Until then, I've found that there are some surefire ways to keep warm at this time of year. Sitting by a roaring fire is nice (gas or log, I'm not picky); an electric blanket and warm, fuzzy socks will do the trick. But the best defence against Jack Frost is food and drink, of course. Tidings has some great recipe ideas to keep the winter chill at bay.

Valentine's Day and Chinese New Year are just around the corner, and we will have lots of great themed menu ideas. In the meantime, how about trying out some delicious recipes that will help you forget about the icy wind outside? For a quick weeknight dinner, bake up a few chicken legs with a side of roasted potatoes and cauliflower. Round out the meal with a glass of chilled Gewürztraminer. For those lazy February weekends, heat up the kitchen with a batch of Ham and Fontina Sandwiches pair with citrusy fumé blanc.

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Wine is a difficult and finicky houseguest. We’re lucky that it doesn’t have its own voice, or the bottle would spend most of the time complaining and we would have to send it for professional counselling. It would always be going on about something or other. Wine gets “bottle shock” when first introduced to the container in which it will spend its life, rather like an unsuccessful first date that turns into a lock-down arranged marriage. Wine doesn’t like to travel and has to rest several weeks on arrival at its destination before it gets back its mojo (balance). It has no desire to go to Florida for the winter; it doesn’t like fluctuations of temperature or being jostled by vibrations from machines (clothes dryers, compressors, dishwashers, elevators, trains, subways or passing traffic, etc.). It abhors bright light and heat and does not like the smell of paint, solvents, detergents or household refuse (strong odours can, over time, seep through the cork and affect the flavour of the wine). Given its finicky disposition, wine, if truth be told, probably suffers from agoraphobia: if those bottles in your basement had their way they would rather be slumbering in the dark, damp cellar where they were born and not have to travel at all. But life is hard, and wines, like pets, are there for our enjoyment. And, like pets, wine responds best to kindly treatment rather than benign neglect or abuse.

My heart bleeds when I see where some people store their wines. I have been in kitchens that have wine racks installed over refrigerators, with bottles slowly cooking from the rising heat and being massaged into old age by the vibrations of the compressor. I have seen wines stored in terra cotta tubular tiles set into stone walls beside a fireplace in the den. I have seen wines stored in unheated attics that bake in summer and freeze in winter — rather like Madeira lodges, which encourage the oxidization of their wines this way. And I have to confess that my own parents used to keep the single ceremonial bottle of Manischewitz in the linen closet, at a temperature above the thermostat setting in the living room. So be kind to your wine. It will reward you for your concern.

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