the cassandra pages

Bonjour, Summer!

The first local berries.

On a recent weekend we made our first foray to the Jean-Talon market with friends (she writes the blog Passage des Perles, he is one of the best and most knowledgeable cooks we've met in Montreal.) Thought you might like to see the colors and beauty too.

Enchanted mushroom forests.

Considering the wild asparagus.

 

Artisanal breads at Joe le Croute.

 

Foxglove plants, wanting to go home with me (they didn't.)

Radishes that did.

Are you starting to shop at farmers' markets or get deliveries of a CSA basket, or harvesting some produce and flowers of your own? I'm curious if the variety, freshness, and local availability of produce and local food products (honey, cheese, yogurt, etc.) have improved in your region in the last decade. It's a simple way we can all help the earth, support local agriculture and the local economy, as well as improve our own health and state of mind. What could be better than that? Bon été, bon appétit!

 

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An After-Market Dinner

Late Harvest

Pomegranate Season

Art of a different sort: the weather is still pretty miserable here, so we've been consoling ourselves with cooking. There are beautiful pomegranates in the stores right now, so the other night we decided to make a few recipes from Plenty, a vegetarian cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi that our friend Janet recently lent us. (We've got his Jerusalem cookbook and have enjoyed it a lot.) The pictures here are from the cover recipe - baked eggplants with pomegranate garnish.

Above, J. is using the author's technique for seeing the pomegranate - you basically hit it with a blunt instrument on the outsdie to loosen the seed chambers, and then the seeds just fall out. It's so much easier than any other way we've tried - you can see at the bottom how cleanly the fruit empties.

Here are the baked eggplants, broiled for a few minutes to brown them on top. You score them and brush them with oil and bake for a fairly long time; we used small Italian eggplants, not the big kind.

And the finished dish. The sauce is buttermilk whisked with Greek yogurt, sprinkled with zaatar. J. added some toasted walnuts; we didn't have the thyme sprigs that were called for. It was delicious anyway -- as our Iranian friends would say, nush-e jan! (Bon appetit -- or literally, "food of life.")

Oval Things

Still life with mangoes and avocados.

This is a drawing that wants to be a painting. The two sides of this sketch are shown below; the version at the top of the page has been cropped as the composition might be in a painting. I was all excited about the ovoid shapes of the atulfo mangoes which cut large interesting shapes out of the busy patterning; the eggs and avocados along with the other ovals on the table; and also by the colors which you can't see here: the yellow mangoes, the deep brownish-green avocadoes on an irregular dark blue dish, and the brown/terracotta Mexican bowls on the mustard-yellow Mexican cloth, contrasted with the brilliant blues of the highly-decorated Moroccan plate at the left. The eggs (dyed red and pink for Easter) could be virtually "re-dyed" in a painting, either yellow or blue. The mango at left might want to come down in the frame and be cropped off, and I'd consider putting another one on the patterned blue plate.

 

Mostly, it feels really good to be drawing again.

Back to painting

Avocados and watermelon on a Moroccan plate. Watercolor (detail), 4/2/2014.

The blank canvas or watercolor sheet is just as intimidating as the blank page or screen...it's always hard to get back to either art or writing when I've been away for a while. In spite of all my preparations, i did absolutely no drawing or painting in Mexico; there just wasn't enough "sitting time" for that and it would have been an imposition on J. (plus we wanted to go around together.) However, the colors and vibrant life-energy have stayed with me, and I hope to be able to bring some of that into my work in the months ahead.

 

And Then There Was Food...

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Dim Sum Lunch

Now, that was a warming and fun way to spend last Friday noon. We were over in Brossard, on the south shore of the St. Lawrence.

Here's what the river looked like as we drove back across the Pont Jacques-Cartier, looking toward the Olympic Stadium. It looks like the shipping channel is still open in this direction, toward Quebec City, as far as the Port of Montreal, but the Seaway is frozen to the west, beyond Montreal.

However, the billboards that don't advertise vacations in sunny climes are touting the joys of winter -- the one on the right, below, is for the Quebec City winter carnival. As for me, I like the bright sunny days (today is one of those) and am glad for the lengthening hours of daylight...and am trying to keep up a good attitude toward it all.

Dumplings definitely help.

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Of Kings and Stars

At the bakery today, the choices were difficult. Epiphany is upon us, and it's time for the traditional galette des rois, or "kings' cake" of France and Quebec: made of puffed pastry with almond cream inside. They're always sold with a crown on top, and a little favor is hidden inside: the person who finds it wears the crown. The favor used to be a broad bean, but now the bean has been replaced by little figurines - in Louisiana, they are plastic babies said to represent Jesus.

Since there were only two of us, a whole cake seemed like a great over-indulgence.

There were, of course, smaller cakes and confections, each one more tempting than the last: those fruit tartes looked absolutely fantastic.

And above the array of Napoleons, how about these square pots of three chocolate mousses in layers, crowned with kingly triangles?

But reason prevailed, and we came home with just one treat: an etoile aux pommes, a star filled with apples, which seemed perfect for the day, and perfect for Quebec. You'll see more of why I thought that, tomorrow.

Late Harvest (2)

The outdoor vendors were still selling exotic fruits, from pomegranates to pineapples and cactus pears. Aren't they beautiful? It wasn't until this past year that I made the connection between  grenade and grenadine.

Late in the day, prices are reduced...asparagus for $1.00 a bundle is pretty cheap. But these won't last longer than a day; I know, I've bitten the bait before.

There were fresh olives. Unusual.

But I headed inside, to where there are more prepared foods and specialty shops, like this vendor who sells all sorts of olives, marinated in different flavors, stuffed with different things, or dried and cured with spices.

A more local product: cranberries, or canneberges in French.

There were soft fresh farmer's cheeses...

and lovely women selling pastel-colored macarons to little girls. These cookies are in exotic favors: the labels I can see are apricot/black tea, and tire d'érable, which I think we could translate as "pulled maple taffy" -- it's what the French call "sugar-on-snow."

And it's oyster season; these huitres are different prices depending on their origin, all from the Atlantic coast. I wish I could eat them, but I can't! I was amused by the name for the specially-priced box.

But this is where I ended up, after buying a tin of black cumin from Uzbekistan from a spice merchant who gave me a wonderful lecture, illustrated with scents, about the different origins and types of black cumin seeds.

These cheese are all made from sheep's milk; my favorite, along with goat's milk cheeses. Ideally I would have liked one of those white pyramids -- but $9 each? -- instead I bought a small slice of one of the hard, aged rounds at far left after the maker gave me a petit gout -- incredibly delicious. We made it last two evenings, with a glass of wine.

And then, in the twilight, I rode back home on this bike/walking path that goes along the Canadian Pacific tracks at the top of the Plateau.

There are lots of warehouses and old factories along the tracks, like the one where we have our studio, and on the track-side, they ae often covered with graffiti and tags. It looks like a rather unsavory place, but it's actually quite safe, and people are using the path all the time. You can get quickly from the eastside, near de Lorimier and Iberville, over to Mile End, without ever stopping for a traffic light.

And at the end of the path, I was treated to the rising full moon, pink and beautiful over the city, and not made of bleu cheese at all.

Late Harvest

While the Midwest was being pounded with violent storms, we had an unseasonably warm weekend, and I took advantage of it to bike up to the Jean-Talon market, late on Saturday afternoon, as a break from work that has been occupying us pretty much every day. Lots of other Montrealers were there too, soaking up the precious rays of sunlight and enjoying the colors and flavors of the late harvest. We all know what's coming!

A maison de torrefaction is a cafe that roasts their own coffee. As I've mentioned before, street photography is not really legal under French privacy laws; I'm not sure if this fellow resented having his photo taken, or was just giving me the eye. Most people don't care, especially at a place like the marché, where lots of people are taking pictures. Nevertheless, on to the inanimate objects of interest:

The outdoor parts of the market were pretty much shut down, but there were cabbages and peppers...

more apples than anyone could count...

artichokes...

choux de Bruxelles, $5 for a huge stalk...

all manner of cauliflower and cabbages...

...and of course, potatoes. These are tiny new ones, which I would have bought if I weren't on my bike and trying to keep the carrying weight down.

Everyone was in a good mood. This fellow is dressed in a typical Quebeçois way, with his short jacket, scarf, and knitted toque. He reminded me of a man I like very much, the father of my friend Eric D. (A toque, by the way, is a knitted watch cap in Quebec. The word comes from the Arabic words for "Round" and "Hat" [taquia, which originally meant something round with an opening.] It's been known in English since 1505, but came through the Medieval French toque (15th century), probably from the Spanish toca "woman's headdress", also via the Arabic.) Like a lot of Quebeçois French, the word is a holdover from terms used by the early explorers and colonists of New France.)

This artisanal product was something new to me: gingras, "very old (aged) cider vinegar."

This musician is a market regular, accompanied by his fine chat.

After her long day I think she deserves some of this, don't you?

That's duck foie gras, and I didn't buy any of that either, though I'm sure it's delicious! Tomorrow I'll show you what I did buy, and some more photos from the interior of the market.

Fou Friday

Earlier this week, my friend La Duchesse invited me for coffee at Fous Desserts, a tiny patisserie and chocolaterie on rue Laurier, a couple of blocks east of the métro station. For some reason, I'd never gone in, in spite of passing the storefront many times on my way to the métro.

What an omission.

We had coffee, which was excellent, and split two sable cookies - one, a Breton, was simply crunchy, perfectly cooked sugar and butter; the other was more refined: a thin chocolate wafer with some sort of crunchy inclusions, topped with a dark chocolate glaze and a hint of raspberry. But these little delicacies weren't the discovery of the day.

That belongs to the croissants, which have been rated the best in the city. I took home two, and J. and I ate them together. Silently.  Ecstatically. And that was in the evening, half a day after the croissants had been made.

This morning, which was quite cold, we bundled up and rode our bikes along a detour from our usual studio route, in order to stop at Fous Desserts to buy two more freshly-made croissants. After purchasing them we looked around the shop at their other offerings, every one of which looks pretty much to die for.

I stayed to take a few photos while J. rode back to the studio. You'd better hurry, he said, putting the bag into his backpack.

I got there just in time.

 

These really are the best croissants I've ever eaten - in Montreal or Paris or anywhere. I wish I could share them with you -- but I guess you'll just have to come and visit!

In the meantime, if you'd like to see the master bakers of Fous Desserts in action, here's a video (there are more at the website). It's a dangerous place. You've been warned.