The flip side of journalism, sort of

Sorry about the lack of posts recently, I’ve been working like nobody’s business. #excusesexcuses

I do want to give you a quick heads up about The Vancouver Recipe, a documentary on which I was a bit of a hired gun interviewer. As Senor Poster above says, it’s airing at 7:00 tomorrow (Saturday). Set the PVR, or, you know, watch it live if you’re all retro like me.

The basic premise involves chefs talking about what makes the Vancouver food scene what it is, from the actual ingredients we can access here, to the mix of different ethnic backgrounds, the extremely active dining culture, and the chefs who actively choose to live and work here.

At least I think that’s what it is.

You see, as per my hired gun reference, this is one of a few projects that I’ve taken on recently where I’m not involved every step of the way. In place of pitching an idea, doing all of the interviews, writing the copy or script, and then being intimately involved with the edit process, I’ve shown up on the day of the interview (after doing some prelim research, of course), done my best to engage with the interview subject and evoke thoughtful, heartfelt answers, and then strolled away.

In some ways, it feels like I’m on the other side of the table, the one where interview subjects usually are. What’s the direction of the story? What clips are being used and why — how are they being positioned? What’s being written into the story? Where does each person fit into the overall piece? etcetera etcetera etcetera

Not only am I not able to answer these questions, I’m asking them myself. I’ll only know, I guess, on Saturday.

I do know I suggested including certain people versus others, and that I loved having the time to have nice long interviews with the subjects — a luxury compared to the world of daily news. I also know in our conversations that the chefs spoke knowledgeably and passionately about what they do, guided in a tiny way by the focus I had thought about in advance, and the question line I crafted.

I love interviewing. I mean, I seriously love it. It’s one of the best parts of being a journo. And truth be told, being a hired gun has a more immediate financial return than taking a project entirely from concept to completion. It may also create a better overall product, with individuals able to step in and perform tasks at which they excel, rather than having it entirely handled by a jack of all trades.

It is still a little strange for a control freak like me to step away from the process. I’m looking forward to checking out to the results on Saturday night.

Crowdsource gardening

What the crap is this critter? What does it want?

Please help, Interwebz frenz — what on earth is this, and what should I do about it? (It might be a little tough to make out in the photo, but it’s mostly black with a little light brown and white speckling on the back, about a centimetre long. And yes, I Googled “apple tree” and “beetle” already, but didn’t see anything that really matched.)

I’ve had my garden out on the deck of my condo for three years now – strawberry plants, blueberry bushes, some mint, and a dwarf apple tree, and as I chronicled for CityFood at the time, I don’t mind that other children of nature come to visit me there (flip through to page 15 if you want to check the piece out.)

However, my hospitality stops at these bugs!

Some background: as mentioned above, I’ve never had any real pest problems since setting the garden up in 2008; even an aphid infestation was dealt with fairly quickly and easily. I mulched over the winter with some maple leaves, and bought some soil (from Home Depot I think?) to top the planters up. The only new plants in the garden were two yellow Kalanchoe in 4″ pots, that I put in metal planters on the railing near the apple tree.

When I went to move the apple tree a few weeks ago, in order to get it into a sunnier spot, I grabbed the planter without a second thought and put my hand right into a cluster of about eight or ten bugs. I was DISGUSTED, because they’re, um, … crunchy.

I found a few more on the trunk of the apple tree and in the dirt at the base of it, and dispatched them quickly, but none anywhere else in the garden. A few days later I found some more, took care of them too, and figured I was done with it, until I found this one in the house today. I’m not really a squeamish person, but YUCK. I really hate these bugs! Where did they come from, and why is this the first time I’ve ever seen them?

Anyone know what these are? Will they harm the apple tree, or are they beneficial? Should I go Stompy McSmasherson on them, leave them alone, or eradicate them in another way?

Any help in the comments below would be uber-helpful from this still rookie gardener.

Flying fingers, food bank challenge

Gennaro Iorio, Ned Bell, and Quang Dang looking relaxed.. © Claudia Kwan 2011

It’s not like it was a huge life goal or anything, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to judge a competition. Would I be the Simon Cowell of the bunch, an encouraging presence, or someone out to lunch?

I had my chance to figure it out yesterday, when Sophie Lui, Dawn Chubai and I had the honour of judging a special challenge involving the Greater Vancouver Food Bank.

Loblaw (Real Canadian Superstore, Presidents Choice, No Frills, Dominion, Loblaws, Joe Fresh, etc) has just launched a Canada-wide campaign to raise $1.2 million and 1.2 million pounds of food, and was trying to figure out a fun launch event in Vancouver.

So the company decided to put on a black box challenge, similiar to what you woud see on Iron Chef — chefs are given a specific ingredient (that they don’t know about in advance) and a limited amount of time. They have to then create a dish to impress the judges.

The twist this time around: chefs Gennaro Iorio (La Terrazza), Ned Bell (Rosewood Hotel Georgia), and Quang Dang (Diva at the Met) would be using ingredients drawn from the list of items the food bank needs most — essentials like canned goods, starches, and proteins.

What could be under that mysterious box? © Claudia Kwan 2011

When the boxes were whisked away, the items the chefs had to use were revealed as canned tomatoes, canned green beans, canned pink salmon, rice, and the ‘twist’ ingredient — canned peaches.

Right away they began scribbling notes down for their plan of attack, and within mere moments, the horn was sounded — the chefs would have just 30 minutes to produce something that incorporated all of the items in a creative and beautifully presented manner.

When I’ve covered stories in the past about the food situation for those living around or below the poverty line, one of the issues I’ve heard brought up is not so much WHAT people are eating, as how it looks. ie, “poor people food.” It’s sometimes grey, or greasy, or mushy, or just generally unappetizing. And I don’t subscribe to that ‘you should just be grateful to be eating at all’ noise, so we can just shut that down right now.

No, I think that if we’re addressing a common human need — to not be hungry — there shouldn’t be discrimination on the plate. Food should be tasty, nutritious, and look good, and that applies for everyone. </endrant>

So what did the chefs come up with? Take a look!

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Holy cow, just watching the fellas hard at work made me tired — I can type in a frenzy like that, but definitely can’t cook that way.

After going carefully through the criteria and conferring with my fellow judges, the winner was… Quang Dang and his salmon cake! Excellent efforts from Ned and Gennaro too.

I do feel inspired after this. If these guys can come up with this kind of cuisine, on the fly with stuff you can find in anyone’s pantry, well surely I can do a little better with what I’m cooking up at home.

And certainly there’s no way anyone ever has to say again that something looks like “poor people food.”

ps I think I was a pretty fair judge — analytical without being overly critical. But really, with something like this, it’s a win for everyone.

Rain City Chronicler

Huge thanks to Chris Kelly of CBC Radio 3 for the audio, and Christine McAvoy for the photo that I’ve looped through.

I was honoured to be one of the storytellers at the last Rain City Chronicles night, and wanted to share my experience to encourage you to check out the upcoming event.

If you’re not familiar with Rain City, it’s a storytelling night designed around the idea that everyone has a tale to tell. It’s put together by Karen Pinchin (my lovely editor over at OpenFile), and the also-awesome Lizzy Karp (who has been responsible for some of the wicked programming the Waldorf has been putting on).

When Karen first asked me to take part, I was a little hesitant. I love telling the stories of other people, and I’ll share the odd anecdote or two at a dinner party, but I just didn’t think stories about me would be that interesting to a live audience. In my continuing quest to expand my realm of experiences though, I took a deep breath and said yes. The theme for the evening would be ‘Arrivals and Departures.’

It turned out to be an incredibly busy Tuesday. I got up WAY early in the morning to write a piece that was due, had a series of meetings on the west side of Vancouver in the morning for a new gig I was taking on, booted out back eastward to pick up someone for an afternoon event, dropped her back off, picked B up from work, picked up some goodies the Acme Cafe had kindly donated to the night, and then went to the church where Rain City was being held that night. Phew. I didn’t have time to pee, much less powder my nose.

Fortunately, one of the survival techniques I’ve refined over my years as a reporter is being as low maintenance as possible. I’ve figured out some hairstyles and makeup tricks that will last throughout even the longest of days and worst of weather without hardly any touchups at all. (I’ll share at some future point for anyone who might be interested.)

UN-fortunately, all of the scuttling around meant I hadn’t made time to plan out what I was going to say. I knew it would be something about being the child of an airline employee, and tying it back to the theme of ‘Arrivals and Departures’, but I didn’t know exactly how I was going to get there.

And while I’ve done a gajillion and one live hits before as a reporter, many off the top of my head, I’ve never rambled for seven minutes before by myself, without a host at least asking some questions to help guide the discussion.

As I and the other storytellers mingled in the green room before the night officially started, we could hear the buzz of the crowd outside. It would be a full house. I sat down in a corner and jotted down some quick notes before meeting the other speakers, incredibly eclectic and interesting all.

Thank heavens I was fourth up, not first. My heart was already racing as it was (a small part of that might have been the caffeine I had downed earlier in the afternoon in an attempt to stay alert.) Rather than staying isolated in the green room while waiting for our turn, we went and sat in the audience before being called up. I really enjoyed being able to listen to the other speakers.

There was some blipping on the audio line that I could hear (being the audio geek that I am), and the fellows running the sound happened to be sitting right in front of where B and I had parked ourselves. During the third speaker’s story, it actually sounded like one of the mics had given out, so I tapped on the shoulder of one of the techs and volunteered to do a mic change, since I was next.

Fun fact: a mic change is not hard to do at all. Somehow though, I suddenly became all thumbs after walking up on stage and being in the glare of the spotlights. With a lot of trepidation, I managed to click the replacement mic in without dropping anything, and the crowd spontaneously cheered.

That’s when I knew it was going to be okay. It was the warmest, most welcoming audience I’ve ever been around — the wave of energy was palpably positive, and as I began speaking, they laughed even at some fairly feeble sallies of mine. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.

B later told me I did a quick reflexive thing of pushing up my jacket sleeves and tucking my hair behind my ears before launching into my story — totally unconscious. There may have been some inappropriate gestures made which don’t translate onto this audio, but you’ll just have to use your imagination.

Once I was on stage in front of the crowd, the theoretical roadmap I’d made for myself flew out of my head — something I’d meant to mention off the top I didn’t remember until nearly the end. And since I’m my own worst critic, I’m cringing at how many times I said ‘um’, and how my timing was off a little at some points — I needed to let a comment or joke breathe a little bit more before moving on. On the other hand, I’m glad that I didn’t race through at a million miles a minute, since I am naturally a fast, fast talker.

I share a moderate bit of family dirty laundry (around the 4:30 mark). I forgot Yankee. I have secrets that may improve your travel experience. You’ll have to listen to know what I’m talking about. (And be thankful that you didn’t see how drenched I was in sweat by the time I was done. I didn’t even realize it until I sat back down.)

I want to encourage you to check this out not only as an audience member, but to also potentially get up on stage yourself. The best thing about the evening is how ready people were to listen — an integral part of a storytelling circle.

Colin and Justin Time

Designers Colin McAllister & Justin Ryan. Image courtesy of http://www.colinandjustin.tv

Just a shortie today, as I’m off shortly to the BC Home and Garden Show. In a commingling of the different media things I do, I’m set to do a video interview tonight of designers Colin and Justin for the Vancouver Sun.

I’m still very much learning about the world of being a freelance journalist, but one of the things that’s become very clear to me is that you have to market yourself a little bit (this is hard, because I’m naturally inclined to demur, or disavow entirely when praise is being given.) I have been trying to emphasize that as a ‘polymediathlete’, I can do video, audio, print, and write for the Web as well.

I’ve done a couple of other multimedia bits for the Sun before, but this is the first time I’ve been tapped to do video for them. And, even though I’ve done gajillions of radio and TV stories before, with every new organization you have to figure out different protocols and procedures around how THEY do things.

It’s another example of continuing to try and stretch myself and expand the range of what it is I do as a journalist. I just hope Colin and Justin behave themselves!

Pinching those pennies

I don’t think – wait, I KNOW I’m not cheap. (I may meticulously check over a restaurant bill or a grocery bill, but that’s just to look for errors, and I never have any problem with tipping generously for good service.)

I think the more accurate way to describe me is a “strategic scrimp and splurger.” Never heard of it? Let me explain.

An SSS is someone who always checks out the bin at the grocery store with the dented tins and slightly bruised fruit, to see if there’s anything worth picking up. That way, when it comes time to buy a $200 pair of boots, there’s more room in the budget. Even the seeming extravagance of the footwear purchase makes sense in the long run, since a good quality pair of shoes or boots will last longer. I’ve had some pairs last 15 years or more.

The reason an SSS watches the groceries being rung through like a hawk is because of the Scanner Code of Practce, which is in effect at most major retailers.

This, in brief, is how the federal Competition Bureau explains the SCOP:

“If the scanned price of a non-price ticketed item* is higher than the shelf price or any other displayed price, the customer is entitled to receive the item free, up to a $10 maximum.”

*non-price ticketed item = something with a barcode

Basically, try and keep a running ticker in your mind of what the listed price for something is; if it scans incorrectly, ie higher, at the register, you can get it free or a $10 credit. Pretty cool, right?

An SSS is also technologically savvy, to save both time and money. For instance, I’ve been using the “Call phone” feature in Gmail for months now (it’s free for calls North America wide, whereas Skype charges several cents per minute of usage, no matter where the destination.)

I use it both at home to avoid long distance charges, and on the road to avoid using up my daytime minutes on my cell phone. Essentially, I have a tiny Bluetooth earpiece that I hook up to my netbook, which I then hook up to anyone broadcasting free wireless. (You could just speak directly into the webcam feature on your computing device, but in a loud area background sound could overshadow your call.)

The earpiece was about $30, which is about 120 minutes of talk time on my cell phone plan — a couple of conference calls alone can easily chew up that much time, and this way I’m truly mobile. Spend once on the device, lots of savings over the long term. Win – win – win.

Contrary to the advice often given out by credit counsellors and financial experts, I also try and put absolutely everything on to my credit card.

It may seem counterintuitive, even a temptation to regularly go on shopping sprees, but I like to put everything on to a credit card because it collects most of my expenses into one central area. These days, credit card companies often provide spend analysis reports (for free), so that I can see where I’m blowing most of my dollars, ie eating out, shopping, or entertainment, and adjust accordingly. So rather than encouraging wild spending, it actually curbs impulse spending because I can see every day how much I’ve spent (if I log in every day, which I usually do to monitor potentially fraudulent activity.)

Concentrating my spending onto a credit card also allows me to maximize the reward benefits from using the card, whether it be cash back or rewards points. That adds up pretty quickly.

I’m certainly not saying this will work for everyone out there, but it’s been working for me so far. I’ll try and think of other SSS tips to share  in the coming days.

Post-Oscar party thoughts

The "Social Network" platter: chicken wings, lamb chops, and fish 'n' chips.

B has this thing about awards shows — he thinks they’re inane — and I can take them or leave them, so in the interests of general household harmony, our TV has not been tuned to the Grammys, Globes, AMAs, etc for many a year.

But for the first time in a long time, I decided to watch the Oscars, after being invited to a party at the 900 West lounge at the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver last night.

After a little BBMing back and forth, my pal K and I picked out Oscar-worthy, snowproof outfits and walked up the red carpet. Inside, the pre-shows had already begun. I spotted two more friends sitting at the bar, as well as actor Matt Barr of Hellcats etc, fame, and couldn’t resist asking him about being a part of Friday Night Lights — one of the finest shows on TV, especially for a dialogue junkie like me.  I could have asked him a million questions about FNL, but didn’t want to go full fangirl on him.

K, my other two friends, and I were swiftly handed glasses of wine, and settled right down into a table with cozy armchairs. Then it was a full on dish fest about the movies, the dresses, and the hosts. (Paging James Franco: your 24 Red Bulls have not been drunken. We need you to wake up.) Anne Hathaway did a decent job, and the majority of her dresses rocked the casbah.

I’d forgotten how funny it was to be snarky with gal pals during an awards show, especially when fueled by wine and snacks. The event was also a fundraiser for Dress for Success, a cause which I can fully support.

We bought some raffle tickets, and lo and behold, K won the grand prize of two nights stay at the Hotel Van, and dinner at Griffins! Woop woop!

The awards season may have essentially just wrapped up, but I’m putting this experience in the old tickle trunk for things to remember to do next year — B may not be the biggest fan, but I think I’m a new (old?) convert.

House dreaming

The time has come. I think I’m ready to give up condo living and move into a house.

I bought my first place just before turning 24 (thanks for the hefty loan, Bank of Mom and Dad!), when the thought of a house seemed like way too much grown up responsibility, what with lawn mowing and shovelling and taking care of the gutters and what have you. I also wanted to be in the middle of the action of restaurants and nightlife.

Now I’m yearning for a little more space for B and me to stretch out — a library/music room would be amazing, and so would a proper pantry. The thought of house maintenance isn’t quite as scary as it once was, and I can still get to nightlife, as long as I build in some extra time to take transit/get a cab/find a parking space.

The dilemma now is how to proceed. Obviously budget is going to play a huge factor in where we end up, but it also determines what kind of condition the place will probably be in.

I’ve never done a reno in my life, but I’m kind of leaning toward finding a reasonably priced neighbourhood and building from the ground up. Thanks to the writing I do for the Vancouver Sun homes sections, I’ve been exposed to lots of amazing ideas about design, architecture, and sustainability.

I’m drawing particular inspiration from Gaetan Royer, an urban planner/architect/engineer, who built an amazing house in Port Moody that’s challenging a lot of our ideas about what sustainability means. The paper didn’t quite have enough room to print the entire piece, so I’m reproducing it below.

Also, the BUILDEX show — at which Gaetan will be speaking, profiling his home — begins today at the new Vancouver convention centre downtown. Check it out if you get the chance.

Warning: the story’s pretty long, so this post will be too. All of the images below are copyrighted, and published here courtesy of the Vancouver Sun/Ian Smith PNG.

Large south facing windows on this Port Moody home capture sunlight.

Taking sustainability home

By Claudia Kwan, Special to the Sun

No one ever takes building a new house lightly, but it’s doubtful many people put quite as much thought into it as Gaetan Royer did.

In 2007, he decided it was time to move his family from their large Port Moody condominium to a single family home in which they could live their philosophy of sustainability.

They needed a site with a south-facing slope for solar exposure, large enough to build the home they had in mind. During the course of the approximately year long hunt, they looked at a hundred different properties, until they finally found ‘the one.’

“We found the worst house in Port Moody,” says Royer, with a rueful smile. “It was a 700 square foot bungalow, and then one room developed a leak, so it became just 600 square feet.”

However, the 165’ x 65’ lot allowed them to live in the bungalow while construction was occurring on the new house. It also allowed them to do an extensive analysis on the specific aspects of the site.

“We got to learn and appreciate its specific characteristics, like the way the sun comes in, where the shade is,” he explains. “We did twelve different versions of the plan, and even made some changes during construction.”

Royer is better equipped than most to make decisions around building a home; he has an architecture degree, another in urban planning, and spent more than twenty years in the Canadian Air Force, in part as a military engineer.

He wanted to apply sustainability practices before and during construction, not just in the finished design of the home. It began with thinking about what to do with the dirt that would need to be dug up for the new house’s foundation to be built.

To limit how much material was taken offsite, Royer asked a neighbour if it would be possible to use her front yard as storage. They jokingly called the mound of soil that they heaped there during the course of construction ‘Mount Royer’. They were then able to re-use the soil when it came time to fill the site back in (and re-finished the neighbour’s yard as a thank you.)

“We probably saved eighty truckloads of dirt and gravel from being trucked on and off site,” Royer estimates. “It’s a waste of time, money, and energy.”

BC Hydro asked permission to take down a large tree on the property; Royer saved it for future use as stair treads, ceiling detail, and a table. His forward planning went right down to conserving materials that cost pennies, such as the plastic bags in which insulation is shipped.

He carefully saved the bags, and cut them open into large flat pieces. Later in the construction process, in place of buying rolls of plastic poly to keep things dry, he brought out the bags.

“It’s not just about the cost, even though every penny counts when you’re building a house,” he says. “It’s more a case of – these things are still usable, why are we just throwing them away?” He did the calculations, and estimates that his strategy with the plastic bags alone saved the equivalent of a barrel of oil.

The kitchen at the Royer home has a quiet ceiling fan and other sustainable features.

Royer and his wife Zoe, a design and management consultant, did extensive research in trade journals, architecture and interior design magazines, and online. The overarching goal was to have the most house with the lowest possible amount of material. The finished product, in a word, is lovely.

They decided against solar panels – not enough benefit for the expense – but did buy a condensing boiler, which spared them the expense of having heating ducts installed. They installed radiant heating in the polished concrete floors, which are incredibly durable and much cheaper than traditional flooring. They also decided against baseboards or moldings, opting for a cleaner, more modern look, which is lower maintenance.

Some of the elements installed in the home were more expensive than average, but Royer believes they will pay themselves off in reduced electricity use in five to seven years.

Small windows on the north side allow light through, but limit heat transfer.

The windows in the home are small and strategically placed on the north side, and expansive on the south side. There, they allow heat transfer to occur through the home, and for observers to drink in the view of the Burrard Inlet.

One of the most eyecatching features of the home is the green roof, through which rain pools into a pond at the front of the property. That water is triple-filtered, and then used for ‘gray’ (non-drinking) water. In the year that they’ve lived in the home, Royer says they’ve only had to fill the five hundred litre holding tank off the municipal water system once. There’s no cost savings involved, just the knowledge that they’re doing their part for conservation.

Royer also installed a 22 foot wide uninsulated concrete retaining wall on the north side of the home; it allows heat in during the winter and out during the summer. There, despite being the city manager for Port Moody, he encountered some resistance about conforming to existing building regulations.

“It’s not just the municipality, it’s the insurance industry and banks,” he says. “Anytime you try and do something a little different, the deck is stacked against you – they legislate for minimum standards, not for maximum effectiveness.” Royer believes it’s time to update the provincial building codes and allow for some flexibility, especially for sustainable homes.

Keith Sashaw, president of the Vancouver Regional Construction Association, argues that the industry has made significant progress with sustainability over the past five years, pointing to material salvage and recycling efforts. He also believes the building codes are starting to become more performance-based, rather than rigid requirements.

“The challenge with building codes is making it a balancing act between consumer protection and incorporating ideas around sustainability and affordability,” says Sashaw. “We have to meet the objectives without adding cost.”

Both he and Royer agree that builders need to incorporate sustainability into their practices if they want to meet growing consumer demand, and that it’s actually a competitive edge. The VRCA is currently working on a certification process for sustainable builders.

In the meantime, Royer acknowledges many others can’t, or won’t put as much research into building their homes as he did. That’s why he’s more than willing to share his knowledge either informally, in conversations with his neighbours, or in the seminar he will be conducting at BUILDEX on February 24^th at 1 pm.

“I’m open to the idea of helping others who want to learn about sustainable home building,” he says. “I’ve already been providing lots of free advice!”

Apples each day

Dorenberg Orchard in Winfield, BC. © Claudia Kwan 2010

There’s no doubt about it – despite my best efforts, I fall short pretty much every day on eating the right number of servings of fruits and vegetables. I’m busy, which makes prep time a precious commodity, fruits and veggies can be a little awkward to eat or transport when you’re on the road, yada yada. They’re not excuses so much as obstacles.

I figure the best solution is to trick myself, by using that old mom standby of hiding fruits and veggies in other food, and I’m getting a little help after an evening at the Dirty Apron Cooking School in Crosstown, sponsored by BC Tree Fruits.

First, nutritionist and grower Darcel Markgraf pointed out the obvious benefits of having an apple a day — one decent size apple is already two servings of fruit, there’s lots of fibre and good vitamins in there too. I’ve got the message for sure.

Before we could have dinner, we had to make our dessert of olive oil and apple thyme cake. The Dirty Apron is what I would call a gentleman’s cooking school, where, in order to make the experience as enjoyable as possible, everything is beautifully laid out and lots is pre-prepped for you.

Cake ingredients, including pre-buttered and sugared pan. © Claudia Kwan 2011

We briskly whisked and folded under the supervision of David Robertson and his crew, each picking a different way to decorate our individual olive oil cakes, and sneaking in some additional apple in the process. Then it was off to the oven.

Olive oil cakes, decorated with Ambrosia apples. © Claudia Kwan 2011

We tucked into dinner, ably prepared by the crew,  with lots of BC apples in all their variety: Fujis, Spartans, Galas, Ambrosias, Red Delicious, Granny Smiths.

We began with seared duck breast flavoured with maple syrup, cinnamon, cardamom, and black pepper, and accompanied by a potato and apple blini.

Seared duck breast with potato apple blini at the Dirty Apron. © Claudia Kwan 2011

Potato apple blini recipe

Ingredients

1/2 Spartan apple, finely diced

1 large Yukon potato (about 200g)

1 egg

25g all purpose flour

70 ml milk

1 tbsp chives, sliced

vegetable oil, salt, pepper

Method

Boil the potato, skin on, until cooked through. Strain from water and peel while the potato is still hot. Push peeled potato through a food mill and place into a bowl.

In another small bowl, beat the eggs until smooth and stir into the potatoes, incorporating the milk, flour, diced apples, and sliced chives. Season with salt, pepper.

Heat vegetable oil in a non stick pan over medium-high heat. Spoon potato mixture into the pan, approximately 2 cm deep.

Cook the blinis for two minutes per side until golden. Keep warm until needed.

Berkshire pork tenderloin topped with sauteed apples. © Claudia Kwan 2011

Sometimes it can be as simple as adding an extra handful of fruits or veggies onto an entree, as with these bits of sauteed apple adding some crunch and sweetness in contrast to the tender savouriness of this pork tenderloin.

My olive oil cake, waiting to go into the oven. © Claudia Kwan 2011

During all of this, my cake was going from the above, to what you see below.

The lattice didn't work out as well as planned. © Claudia Kwan 2011

Next time I’ll have to make the strips of apple a little thicker, to avoid the burning. These cakes were delicious — a bit of a sugary crust complimenting the dense, not overly sweet cake, with the apple and thyme adding contrasting flavour elements. They were even better once we added in some ice cream and pretty touches.

Olive oil cake with ice cream, apple wafer and powdered sugar. © Claudia Kwan 2011

Olive oil and apple thyme cake recipe

Ingredients

1/2 Ambrosia apple, peeled and diced

40 ml extra virgin olive oil

50g butter

100g sugar

1 egg

3/4 cup all purpose flour

1/4 tsp baking powder

2 tsp fresh thyme

pinch of salt

Method

Preheat the oven to 325F. Butter a small loaf pan and coat with sugar (a 5″ by 2 1/2″ pan works well.)

In a small bowl, whisk together the butter, egg, and sugar until light and fluffy. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil and continue to whisk. Using a spatula, fold in the thyme and apple. Sift together the remaining flour, baking powder, and salt. Gradually stir into the creamed mixture. Spread evenly into the prepared pan.

Bake for 25-30 minutes in the preheated oven, or until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean. Allow the cake to cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before inverting onto a wire rack to cool.

Okay, so armed with all of the above, I hope that I’ll slowly knock down some of my obstacles to eating enough fruits and vegetables. If I don’t, the only one I’m hurting is myself.

Dining in the Dark

Truffle pops at Culinary Capers' Dining in the Dark event. © Claudia Kwan 2011.

It’s probably no secret: I love a challenge. That, combined with a hearty love of good food, had me seriously intrigued by the prospect of Dining in the Dark.

Put on by catering firm Culinary Capers, it was an experiment with the types of events offered by Tourism Vancouver during Dine Out Vancouver. The inspiration came from similar events in New York, with a simple premise: to eat your way through eight courses of food prepared by chef de cuisine Jonathan Chovancek while blindfolded.

I wasn’t nervous exactly, but I was entirely unsure of what to expect — something I haven’t really felt for sometime when it comes to dining out. Knowing my propensity to be Spilly McPoursalot, I did a little preplanning by wearing dark-coloured clothing, and drove off with B to Culinary Capers’ location near Granville Island.

There was an excited buzz of conversation inside the lobby as the approximately 50 guests mingled, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres. With stone-ground mustard on the crab cakes, and champagne poached pear served atop a Parmesan crisp, it was already clear texture would play a big part in the experience.

We were taken inside the large kitchen where Culinary Capers normally does its food prep; three long tables had been beautifully decorated with winter vegetables and a sage green runner, with dim lighting strategically placed in spots around the room.

We were given a rundown of how things would work: servers would tap the left shoulder to announce they were setting something down, or tap on the right to clear. Then, blindfolds on, it was time to begin.

I’m used to stumbling around half-blind when I don’t have my contacts in, so I used some time-tested tricks to orient myself: slowly feeling in front of me to identify water glass, wine glass, knife, fork, and plate, and listening carefully to identify the different voices around me. Some of the people I had met before, which made it a little easier. Others, like Debra Lykkemark and Michael Harries of Culinary Capers, a lovely couple near them, and a garrulous woman sitting across from me, were new acquaintances.

I detected some fruitiness in the white wine we were drinking, so guessed that it might be a Gewurtztraminer — I should have remembered all of the pairings were from Laughing Stock and that they don’t make a Gewurtz. It was a pinot gris.

I dove right in with both hands to feel the elements of the dish, and that helped me partially figure out what things were. The meaty prawn tempura was easy to figure out, but I guessed that it was salmon roe instead of steelhead roe, and I couldn’t identify a slightly bitter taste. It was later revealed that the roe had been cured in sake.

The deconstructed salad should have been easy, but Chovancek was muddying up the waters a little bit by introducing elements of molecular gastronomy — I knew that the cheese had been dehydrated into almost a powder form, but couldn’t tell that it was originally goat cheese. The grilled mango and chili-dusted cashews were especially delicious.

In the next dish, the scallop was easy to identify by taste and texture — fortunately everything was arriving in pre-cut bite size bits, so we didn’t have to put ourselves in danger using knives. I even got the citrus element of the yuzu and the lemongrass scenting everything, but I totally blew it on the BBQ’d pineapple — I would have sworn that it was lychee that had been compressed to be firmer and sweeter than normal. Oops.

Double oops: at one point I missed my mouth with the spoon and hit my cheek instead. Oh well, since everyone else was blindfolded it didn’t matter too much, right?

Then we were given a ‘present’, a fragrant bundle of parchment paper that I could smell three paces before the server had set it down. Fumbling it open gently revealed sablefish in a creamy veloute. The taste I couldn’t place was the salted lemon, but at least I correctly guessed the wine as being syrah.

I wouldn’t say that having the blindfolds on enhanced my other senses; instead it forced me to just pay closer attention. I was hearing the timbre of individual voices, trying to be a good guest by waiting diligently for pauses in conversation to make my own observations, and swiveling my head from left to right to catch what was going on. I noticed that the formerly garrulous woman sitting across from me had voiced a few complaints, eventually gone very quiet, and then begun crying. She decided to leave — I’m not entirely certain why, but I do know that if someone has an issue with claustrophobia/darkness, they probably would NOT enjoy this type of dinner. The remaining guests at our table tried to cover the awkwardness with some jokes, and readily got the evening back on track.

Then it was the last course, some incredibly tender red meat with a distinctive slight metallic taste. I guessed lamb and duck before puzzling out that it was venison cooked sous-vide, which explained the tenderness. The beets also had a distinctive texture, but I couldn’t taste much black pepper in the gastrique.

The flourless chocolate cake smelled heavenly, especially once burnt orange caramel sauce was added on top. Then it was blindfolds off to eat the edible glitter-covered chocolate truffles seen on the top, which still wasn’t enough to avoid having glitter all over my face.

Service was delightfully attentive, much more so than in an average restaurant. Apparently others enjoyed the intimate atmosphere — I was told there were makeout sessions breaking out everywhere! (Psst… the SERVERS DON’T HAVE BLINDFOLDS ON, PEEPS.)

Asked to give some feedback, I told the Culinary Capers team that I had enjoyed it very much, but had some suggestions as well.

1. Give guests the option of putting on an apron or protective garment over their clothes to guard against spills. Not everyone has previous klutz training like I do.

2. Instead of having the big reveal — with a slide show and the chef explaining each dish — saved all the way to the end, have people take the blindfold off between courses. It was a little difficult to remember by the end which elements had puzzled me most.

3. I thought pricing was fair, considering the amount and quality of the food: $120 for eight courses, $150 including wine pairing. BUT, I would be more likely to come back more often if it was perhaps sized down slightly to, for example, $100 for six courses, additional wine pairing for another $20 or so.

With all that having been said, I do think it was an innovative approach to adding excitement to Vancouver’s dining scene. I’d like to see it happen again, and for others to take a similar approach of ingenuity.