Tweets @QuenchByTidings

Featured Recipe

Golf has one for men and one for women; and so does tennis. So why not wine? I’m talking about a world ranking system for grape varieties, white (ladies) and black (men). You could see what wine style is trending and what is losing consumer favour.

If such a league table were to exist there would be two red grapes that would be currently climbing out of obscurity. Both are indigenous Sicilian varieties and both sound like escapees from the Commedia dell’Arte: Nero d’Avola and Nerello Mascalese.

Nero d’Avola translates as “black from Avola,” a town on the southeast coast of the island, not far from Syracuse. Although the grape, the most widely planted red variety in Sicily, was first propagated around Avola, ironically, you won’t find it in this area anymore.

As you can guess, waking up in the heart of Sicily is one word: delightful. But visiting this imposing and stunningly beautiful island in March is not quite the same as doing so in high summer. This part of the Mediterranean can be quite cool, rainy and windy at this time of year, as the first few days bore out. The country — and one quickly begins to think of Sicily as a land unto itself — also boasts widely different climatic conditions, from very high elevations in wild mountain ranges to fertile plains and valleys and beautiful beaches on many outlying islands.

As a richly fertile island at the centre of the sea lanes of the Mediterranean, Sicily has, over thousands of years, been a prime target for numerous invaders. Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Spanish and the French have all put their stamp on the island, which is a treasure trove of historical and archaeological remains. This rich tapestry has added enormous layers of complexity, not to mention more recent phenomena such as the pervasive influence of the Mafia. Sicily’s turbulent past certainly presents obstacles to working toward common goals. Producers who make up Assovini Sicilia, a non-profit organization dedicated to the marketing and sustainable development of Sicilian wine culture, deserve a great deal of credit for working together effectively to promote the island’s wine as a whole. This is no small achievement in a place where people, shaped by their frequently wild landscape and tempestuous history, can be fiercely passionate and individualistic. The growing success of Sicilian wines today is, in part, a triumph over the burdens of the historical past.
My focus was on Sicily’s new-wave wines, especially those made from indigenous and often very ancient grape varietals. To give some perspective, Sicilian viticulture is about the same size as Australia’s, and roughly the same as Tuscany and Piedmont combined. At one time it was even larger, but with the spotlight now on quality, lesser quality bulk wines are going out of production. The emergence of Sicily as a modern wine culture is very recent. This revolution really gathered steam around the 1980s, led by a core group of inspired winemakers. Among them was a dynamic but as yet little-known operation run by the Planeta family.

I’m willing to bet that the last great meal you ate made you close your eyes in pure delight. No doubt it piqued your curiosity as well as your taste buds. You may have wondered what combination of ingredients the chef used to create such a dish. You might have even tried to replicate it at home despite knowing that it would never turn out exactly the same — not necessarily better or worse, just different. Cooking up such wonderful meals isn’t about graduating from culinary school. It’s about adding a pinch or two of one very special ingredient.

Roots.

Whether it’s celebrating a unique heritage or running a restaurant according to a family philosophy, the chefs within these pages never stray far from their roots. Their feet may be firmly grounded in tradition, but their imaginations know no bounds. These maverick chefs are taking Canadian cuisine to new heights and attracting the interest of the world. For each one of them, growing up on meals made from scratch using products sourced most often from their own backyards has left an indelible mark. Life experience is the extra ingredient that flavours everything these chefs make.

Victor Bongo (Raven Hotel, Yukon), Jesse Vergen (Saint John Ale House and Smoking Pig BBQ, New Brunswick), Martin Gagné (La Traite Restaurant, Quebec) and Scott Geiring (Carambola Café et Traiteur, Quebec) are independent spirits. From sourcing ingredients from around the world via a cruise liner, to foraging through unmapped areas of the backwoods, to continually experimenting with any kind of food combination, these chefs are fearless. Worried that their drive to test the limits of their experience might result in a strange kind of mish-mash scooped onto your plate? Well, don’t worry. We’re definitely the winners here. Everyday, they transform their individual talent and creativity into incredibly natural, flavourful food that goes far beyond sating your hunger. It nourishes your soul.

The following is pretty much what came straight off my digital recorder with some minimal tweaking. Conversations don’t typically play out like polished up print interviews, so you’ll find some rough bits as far as continuity goes, some repetition and perhaps some half-formed questions and answers (not to mention a few typos). However, if you’re interested in reading the entire two-hour interview, complete with what was ultimately left on the editing room floor, I offer you this. Cheers. – Tod Stewart, Contributing Editor (An edited version appears in Tidings Magazine December 2011 issue available now at magazine stands and here.)

Tidings: So I have to ask you about the chickens; I mean, you tour with three massive rotisseries…

Geddy Lee: Not anymore. I’ve retired the chickens; I’ve moved on.

Tidings: What are we into now?

Lee: I’m into sausages right now. I’ve got some steampunk sausage manufacturing going on. It’s pretty fun.

“A culinary desert” is how Janna Gur, editor of Israel’s leading food and wine magazine and an authority on the country’s culinary history, described the food scene in the 1970s. Few people in the 70s looked to Israel as a culinary centre. Gur explained that food was considered frivolous, as the populace was more concerned with fighting for its future due to political and civil turmoil.

According to Gur’s The Book of New Israeli Food, food has always played a role in Jewish history, but Jewish cuisine evolved over two thousand years in the Diaspora as Jews scattered to neighbouring regions and beyond. The cultures and countries in which they settled influenced them. The differences, Gur continues, arose from keeping kosher, which meant avoiding shellfish and pork and not mixing dairy and meat.

In the 1900s, Jews began immigrating to Palestine led by those coming from Russia, Poland, Eastern European countries, and Germany in the 1930s. In the 1940s and 1950s, immigration to the new state of Israel continued with Jews arriving from Arab countries, North Africa, Europe, Iraq, North America, and many other countries. Each brought their own style of Jewish cooking and dishes shaped by the lands from which they emigrated.

Mark the date December 21, 2012, in your diary or blackberry or whatever you use to remember significant events. It’s a Friday. Mark it because you might not be around to read it the following day. The Mayan Calendar predicts the world will end on that date.

There are people who take this sort of thing very seriously. When I was in the Elqui Valley last January, I was shown a large vineyard in the mountainous northern end of the region, which was owned by a very wealthy landowner. Elqui is a very spiritual place; a shrine for New Agers who believe this beautiful valley will be the only place on Earth that will survive the cataclysm. The rest of the planet will be destroyed. In preparation for the date this landowner has planted, adjacent to his vineyard, a vast acreage of beans so that he and his family will be self-sufficient when the end comes.

Let me change thoughts for a moment, but stay with me because they are related. I go fishing every year somewhere in Northern Canada with five other guys. These trips over the years have become replete with rituals. We each have a wardrobe of fishing t-shirts — the same t-shirts that we wear in rotation on appointed days (rather like the Mayan Calendar). One of them shows two men in a boat with their lines in the water. In the hills behind them there are three mushroom clouds. One of the men says to the other, “Limit’s off.”

Related Articles