Pasta A GoGo: The Poet And His Pasta

On my last visit to Pasta A GoGo I was overcome with sentiment upon tasting Robert Bergola's Pappardelle. I’ve never had finer pasta, and as such, I was inspired to compose this Ode. It stems from a reflection educed by taste and flavor, and how simple food at its finest can soupçon the sublime.

Ode to pasta

(In Praise of Robert Bergola and what he creates.)

And with an empty stomach and full eyes do I,

See where it sits upon thine white porcelain surface,

A plate clad in gluten you have become,

Made by one called ‘The pasta guru' by some.

It begins as Eden intended, most humble.

But enter human ingenuity, a force like lightning asunder. 

Behold two ingredients in the form of liquid and powder most unadorned,

two elements joined by chance, or perhaps by way of Keat’s extempore.

One strewn from Prairie stalks, the other from prancing hens,

Joined together to form a doughy mass, a yellow, soft, rounded gem.

Palms white, back and forth action, 

Forcing a merger between flora and fowl.

Rest my sweet ball of dough ye shall rest,

For soon your serenity will give way to pressing, cutting and boiling;

A doomed fate most necessary; the price paid for our toiling. 

Lo, the water boils, what shape shall Robert bestow upon you?

Bring forth the instruments of your craft,

whose wondrous beauty your mechanics will make true.

O my most mighty of glutinous men,

from whom all noodles beyond the mark of delicious do transcend.

create and serve your pasta for me and mine,

in wait we rejoice and sing your skills atop Olympus’ shrine,

so that we might sing aloud of your accolades,

before our eyes give way to hunger’s shade.

But before I have a gogo at this feast within my sight,

Tis only fair, it seems, to reflect in that fleeting moment of delight.

For from the celestial second my fork spins its first silky noodle,

to the ominous end when utensil rests on mine empty plate,

is but a flash in a cook’s pan, and so… my end shall wait.

So let me stare at your beauty and dance with delight,

Let me anticipate with scent your taste, as is my sovereign right.

But most of all, as I pay homage to the skills of one with what I write,

It is Robert’s gift that gives so we may all taste Ataraxia’s light. 

The Hungry Quebecois

I’m proud of my French heritage and I believe more people should feel the same way. Let me be clear: when I say people, I’m referring specifically to Anglos, Allophones and immigrants who live in Quebec; and by French Heritage, I’m referring to the art and honour of speaking French.

Because us Anglos are labeled as such, we intrinsically take an opposing position-labels have a way of doing that. The notion of opposition within society is always a political, religious, or territorial notion, but it no longer reflects our Provincial majority. It’s an ‘us and them’ mentality the world over, but it doesn’t have to be in Quebec; why? Because we are all French Canadian—Anglos and Allophones included.  And if the recent election is any indication that there might be a hint of goodness and foreword thinking in the majority of our 'home-grown' French Friends, then the English-speaking crowd needs to reciprocate, and the best way to do that is to embrace the French language and Culture. Speak French everywhere you go, cook-up some Quebecois grub once and a while, watch some French television, and most importantly, celebrate St Jean Baptist Day as a proud Quebecer.  I believe doing all these things will bring down the French/English divide, but it's also in our rights, as people who were born in Quebec, to be patriotic about the land from which we hail.  
Some of you will read this as a concession piece, like I’m suggesting you give in to your English or Ethnic ideal and identity; that is not the case, that’s an old and out-dated mentality ill-suited to new lands and fresh-start frontiers. You can embrace more than one identity; American’s do it all the time.  Pride in one’s land will only foster unity between those who live on that land, not because we need to be good neighbours, but because unity can only occur when the fence comes down.

It’s not the immigrant’s fault. The moment Canadian immigrants took that step off the proverbial boat into Quebec, a political and social axe of division swept down and made sure patriotism stayed in the old country. My grandparent’s early days in Quebec were steeped in racism. Strangers in a strange land who incurred a backlash rooted in fear and ignorance; two sentiments still evident in the now defunct Charter of Values. (Sentiments, I might add, that were felt by not only French Canadians, but Anglos alike as well.) I’m Quebec born and of Italian ancestry, but most of my paysans would defiantly exclaim themselves to be Italian, as in, “Me, I’m Italian”, but this is not true, for you my Belle Province dwelling, Italian brethren, are just as French Canadian as Josée Legault.  Your last name pays honour to your ancestry, it doesn't give you the right to mentally pretend you're a citizen in your grandparent's land.
We all need to take French patriotism into our own hands and mouths. We need to remove the two sides of the Quebec equation. Only with an awareness (and desire) that this Province belongs to all of us can we reach equality and disarm the separatist 'us V them' rhetoric. If you were born in Quebec, or are a Canadian citizen and make Quebec your home, then you are a French Canadian: You can be English speaking and still be a Proud French Canadian.  Embrace the culture, put your hands in the soil, speak French and above all, love The Montreal Canadiens! 

Politics aside, this is a food blog and politics and food are sometimes dinner companions. A good way to embrace your French Canadian heritage is to make a trip to a Cabane a Sucre a yearly pilgrimage. It’s a way to get in touch with your Quebec side by way of learning how the first French pilgrims worked the land and ingeniously harvested sap.  And the food at a Cabane a Sucre honours the frugal resourcefulness of our French ancestors, exactly like it does in every part of the world’s historical food story: feve au lards is to the Quebecois what polenta is to Italians. The two restaurants below are a great place to start.

Au Petit Poucet: 1030 Route 117, Val-David (Quebec) J0T 2N0. (819) 322 2246

I love Au Petit Poucet; it's a place for those will big appetites and those not planning to eat the rest of the day.  It's only 45 minutes from Montreal and worth a breakfast run.

Fig,1, The pig says it all. Come hungry.

Fig.2. A fridge stocked with preserves and pies to go.

Fig.3. Quebec is home to the elusive Jackalope

Fig.4. A hearty breakfast not for the faint of heart.

Cabane a Sucre La Petite Cabane de la Cote: 5885, Rte Arthur-Sauve, Mirabel, Qc, J7N 2W4

La Petite Cabane de la Cote is a real, old fashion sugar shack: sticky floors, maple trees as far as the eyes can see, and the unmistakable smell of animal shit in the air, all within a dilapidated, wooden barn structure that shakes unnervingly in the wind. The tablecloths are plastic (as they should be) and the food is Pilgrim-French: pickled beets, chow chow, buckwheat pancakes, fried pork rinds, baked eggs, meat pies, and enough baked beans that will have you Googling every gastroenterologist in Quebec. C'est bon tabarnac!

Fig.5. Preserved food to start

Fig.5. Classic Pea Soup

Fig.6. Classic Baked beans. You keep eating and they'll keep bringing.

Fig.7. Fried pork rinds, or in French, Les orielles de Christ is essentially deep fried bacon fat.

Fig.8. Cook a lot of eggs in a cast iron pan in a hot oven and what you get is this: souffle-like scrabbled eggs.

Fig.9. This is un balle de grand-pere, which translates to, grandpa's ball. I've never tasted an old man's balls, but I doubt it's as sweet and delicious as this doughy ball of goodness.

5885, route Arthur-Sauvé

Mirabel, Qc
J7N 2W4

Réservation
(514) 990-2708
(450) 258-2467

Spaghetti Con Salsa di Maiale Ubriaco.

Fig.1. A Hearty Pasta

Spaghetti Con Salsa di Maiale Ubriaco.

I haven’t posted on this blog in two months.  Cooking seems to have lost some of its spark for me. I no longer yearn for the smell of garlic or the sound of a sizzling pan.  Maybe it’s this eternal winter, maybe its age, maybe its life, maybe I’m just tired from all the chewing. But it’s not completely gone. I do have moments of culinary bliss that present, often, like a slap in the face: a perfect crispy chicken wing, a hot soft meatball, and, most recently, from a cassoulet I made for some friends.  

The times that I do experience culinary delight are the times I hear The Call of The Wild, and like the Alaskan Huskies in Jack London’s story, I howl and beckon to my laptop and my imagination: at times they come, at times they stay away.  Mostly of late, they stay away, or, in fairness, I keep them away.

This cold weather makes me want to braise stuff in red wine, lots of red wine, enough red wine that I have ample enough to get drunk with while my meat braises.  This recipe literally translates to: Spaghetti with drunken pig sauce. It’s good for two reasons: tastes great and it’s better not to get drunk alone. 

Spaghetti Con Salsa di Maiale Ubriaco

Spaghetti with pork braised in red wine sauce

Serves 4

This recipe works better when you space it out over two days. On the first day you simply braise the pork in wine for a couple of hours, and on the second day you just assemble the sauce and cook the pasta. It’s also an excuse to drink wine two days in a row.

Ingredients:

1 to 1 ½ lbs of pork. You can use a large pork loin, or, part of the pork shoulder.

1 bottle of a good full bodied red wine.

1 large onion, quartered

4 cloves of garlic, peeled and whole

1 can of whole plum tomatoes, crushed with your hands

3 anchovies

1 large red onion, diced

Chili flakes

Salt and pepper

500 g (1 pack) spaghetti

Directions:

Day one: Pour your self a glass of wine. Add some olive oil to a heavy bottom, medium pot.  Once your oil becomes hot, add the pork and sear it on both sides. Once your pork has obtained that golden color add the onion and garlic, empty the whole bottle of wine in the pot and bring to a simmer. Let the pork simmer, semi-covered, for about two hours. Once the wine has reduced by about ¾, remove from heat, cover the pot in plastic wrap and refrigerate.  Keep drinking wine, I hope you bought two bottles.

Day two: Remove the pork from the pan and remove any fat that has congealed on the surface of the pork or the wine reduction. Chop the pork and the onion and garlic in little pieces and add it back to the pot with the wine. Bring the wine reduction to a gentle simmer and add the crushed tomatoes, bring it back to a simmer.

At this point, bring a pot of salted water to a boil for your pasta. 

Add some olive oil to a large, non-stick pan set over medium high heat. Once the oil gets hot add the anchovies, the red onion and the chili flakes. (It’s a soffritto people, you need to remember and practice your basics: Soffritto-trito-battuto, revise them all. I like to break the anchovies up in the pan with my wooden spoon.) Once the onions are translucent, add the wine and pork mixture, stir well and season with salt and pepper.  Add your spaghetti to the pan with the pork mixture and mix well. Serve immediately with some freshly grated Parmesan cheese. (You should have more than enough sauce, but, if it appears a little dry, add some of the pasta water.)

Fig.2. Browning in olive oil

Fig.3. Getting the pork drunk.

Fig.4.Chop it all up

Fig.4. Get your soffritto on.

Fig.5. Add the drunken wine to the soffritto.

Fig.6.  Winter food.

Believing in Better Meat and a Better Me

Fig.1 Happy cattle.

Cynicism not only serve as a destructive force to humanity, it also provides an excellent shield, via circumstantial ad hominem, for those who would anoint with cynicism to hide behind.

At one point last week, funneled in a transitional share between social media users, a video surfed its way into the laptops, phones and tablets of millions of people. The video depicted the rampant abuse of pigs inside a Tyson industrial processing plant. The makers of the video addressed the disturbing revelations to retail giant, Wal-Mart, Tyson’s biggest client. I won’t describe the video in this article, just Google it if you’re curious. But, if curiosity is all you have then you just might be a cynic. If curiosity is all you have then you just might be bored. If curiosity is all you have, then, once you’ve watch the video, you won’t be curious anymore; the proverbial itch will be scratched and therein lies the problem.

Watching from a computer screen, within the safe confines of our daily habits and routines, we become immune from the inner backlash that should erupt when curiosity meets anger. When I watched the video for the first time I was appalled-how could people, I wondered, be so cruel? I had lost faith in the goodness of humanity, a sentiment steeped in despair, and therefore, a sentiment that requires hope. Hope for me presented itself by way of self-fulfilling research: who breeds and butchers organic and humanly raised pork and where can I buy it?

Being a food writer, this was by no means the first time I bore witness to such a video. I first read about such centralized, mechanical, industrialized meat processing plants from the book, Fast Food Nation. Author, Eric Schlosser paints an apocalyptic scene filled with lakes of blood, riddled with heaps of carcasses, and filled with human cruelty.  But despite Schlosser’s descriptive scenes of carnage, a rational and merited argument can be made that such industrial meat plants are a necessity; how else can a populace of five hundred and thirty million plus meet their meat requirements? But our meat requirements are not being met, in fact, our meat requirements are being exceeded, our meat consumption is insatiable. According to a recent BBC health report “In the United States more than 75kg (165lbs) of meat is consumed per person each year. In Germany that figure is around 60kg. Huge amounts compared to per capita meat consumption rates of 38kg in China, and less than 20kg in Africa.” (In Canada, per capita meat consumption ranges from 38 to 50kg per person depending on which report you believe. Given our proximity to the U.S, I would lean toward the higher estimation of 50kg.) Also, according to the BBC report, over 70 billion animals are killed every year worldwide to meet our meat requirements, most of which are ground and pureed to make processed meat products, such as is found in frozen foods and fast food items. And meat consumption worldwide is going up, as Europeans and Asian countries adopt a more Western approach to daily food rituals.

I spoke to many people who saw the video, all were appalled-some below the threshold of curiosity, others, fuelled by anger, have transcended simply being curious to the point of proactive awareness.  

Being proactively aware is a powerful sensation. If it's channeled correctly it can fill you with the realization that you hold power, and that power to choose can sway a business practice and change, what you once perceived of as a permanent landscape, into a temporary one. For while the cynic has a general lack of faith and hope in the world, what they really have, is a lack of faith in themselves-they are cynics to their spirits, doubters to their abilities, skeptics to their power.

And so, to the cynic in which the status quo tastes just fine I would say stop hiding. Ignorance can be bliss but the cost is getting too high. There are costs to ‘cheap meat’ that register beyond the final grocery tab: high processing costs, gas emissions from long distance transportation, soil pollution from industrial abattoirs, feeding all these animals, and, worst of all, the detriment to our heath and health care system all have costs and repercussions that will be on our grandchildren’s shoulders. The cost disparity between what we pay for food and what it’s really costing us is as plain as day and as elusive as our indifference. Now, more than ever, Oscar Wilde was right, people today know the cost of everything and the value of nothing.

Moral and Organic edible meats available in the following places:

Boucherie Lawrence: 5237 St Laurent, Montreal. (Between St-Viateur and Faimount) 5142778880

Boucherie Ferme Saint-Vincent in the Jean Talon and Atwater Markets.
Les Fermes Valens: 79 York, Huntington, Qc, Canada, 450-264-4061

Simmering Bones

Fig.1. The late Marcella Hazan



Simmering Bones

 

Cook your Bones in a Soul Kitchen.

Close the page scented cookbook.

Feel the food,

Touch the sizzle.

Smell the animal's cries,

and don't blame the onion for that boil in your eyes.

Let no decorative plate ever taste as fine,

than that of the fruit's forbidden intent to preserve and keep us alive.

A celebrity pot who smiles and stirs for a stain of glitter,

Will never equal the grandmother whose soul rose, in time, between simmers.



Fig.1. Culinary manifesto of renaissance cook, Bartolomeo Scappi.

Fig.2. The death of Francois Vatel, cook to Louis the 14th.