This BBQ Sauce is as close to an original recipe as I’ve ever come up with. I know, nothing is new and every recipe has already been thought of by someone, but I take some pride piecing this frankensauce concept together. It’s a traditional American backyard BBQ sauce at heart (with a built-in balance of sweet, sour, spicy and salty that I learned from Nick at Memphis Blues BBQ House) with summer blackberry sweet-tartness as it’s body and the brain of a Chinese fire-roasted duck. It’s just thing to slather all over fatty pork ribs. Read More
[What follows is a fragmentary manifesto detailing the existence of a secret order at work throughout the history of our society and it’s effect on our modern relationship with food. The original, charred pieces of manuscript are of very dubious origin. The author is no-where to be found and refuses in his writings to adhere to any sort of conventional thesis, narrative, or even rational discourse. Many (ie. other Editors) believe him to be mad, and many more believe that our mysterious un-named author is either deceased, or a fictional creation of another writer’s mind. Despite this, I have made his photos, notes and grease-splattered ravings available to anyone able to make sense of them, or perhaps shed light on the author’s ultimate fate.] Read More
Tomorrow marks the beginning of the Lunar New Year, a festival celebrated in China, Japan, Vietnam, heck, all over Asia and in North America. It’s a time for cleaning house, settling debts, lighting crazy chains of firecrackers and spending time with family and friends eating good food.
If the clan’s coming and bringing their appetites, the perfect food to serve as a starter, side dish or snack with tea are dumplings. Known as jiaozi in Chinese, gyoza in Japanese and pot stickers by people walking around Wallmart, these little pockets of perfect are traditionally eaten at New Years celebrations to bring future wealth (their shape resembles Chinese gold ingots). Read More
Looking back at my formative years in Southeastern Ontario, I’ve realized how many of my memories of Christmas smell like cloves and taste like pig. My mom’s Christmas ham was a beautiful beast. An un-apologetic 1950’s-syle mountain of honey-glazed pork covered in glowing orange slices shot through with cloves. The table would groan under the weight of the unwieldy thing, and our stomachs would groan with anticipation as it was carved. Read More
It’s a glorious surprise when you walk through the garden in late August and find a huge bush full of beans when you thought you’d damn near killed them all. I completely forgot about them and never watered them enough! There’s no way… but, yes! There, standing tall and proud in a plastic tote full of chocolaty pudding-like soil, swaying gently in the fennel-scented breeze is a bush sagging under the weight of twenty Dragon’s Tongue beans! Thank you West Coast Seeds and thank the garden Gods! Read More