When life gives you apricots...

On a recent trip to Kelowna, my main focus was not on wine, but rather on the bountiful fruit which the Okanagan Valley offers. We brought home almost 20 pounds of cherries and more importantly, 10 pounds of apricots. They were the most perfect apricots, found at Gatzke Farm Market in Oyama, on a 34 degree Celsius Sunday afternoon on our way to lunch at Gray Monk Winery.

Unfortunately, I was so dazzled by the beauty of these perfectly ripe apricots that I failed to consider the heat and 36 additional hours which the apricots would be enduring before arriving back home in Vancouver. These blushing orbs of apricot perfection became dented weeping lumps over the next few days, still delicious to eat, dripping down my elbow over the kitchen sink, but too unsightly to photograph for your viewing pleasure.

Not surprisingly, we could not eat them fast enough and so I cooked them down to a puree and made apricot pâte de fruit and apricot ice cream. The pâte de fruit was slightly thinner than I had wanted so I added a second layer of strawberry pâte de fruit. On my first trip to Pierre Hermé, I remember marveling at the bejeweled two-toned pâtes de fruits. In retrospect, adding a second layer and thus flavour is so easy and elementary. In fact, if you have made Rainbow Jell-O before, the concept is identical!

Diversion: San Francisco

Over Labour Day weekend, Eric and I escaped to San Francisco for some relaxation, culinary exploration, and time with good friends who reside in the Bay Area. It was an opportunity to revisit the city which, inadvertently, has become woven into the misguided journey I took towards pediatric ophthalmology.

I was lucky in the past to spend two summers in the San Francisco Bay Area, first in 1996, and then in 2001. After receiving a grant from the American Pediatric Society, I spent six weeks, during the summer between 1st and 2nd year medical school, doing childhood lymphoma research at San Francisco General Hospital with an inspiring clinician scientist. Honestly, I think it was the best summer of my life, being independent for the first time in a dynamic city while being mentored by the first of many physicians whose passion for medicine seemed so limitless and contagious.

By the summer of 2001, two years of ophthalmology residency had passed and despite encounters with three ophthalmologists who were very influential in my professional life, I was struggling to emulate the passion for ophthalmology which they possessed and shared freely. In my naivety, my desire to have their passion became confused with my desire to pursue ophthalmology, leaving me intensely conflicted as I progressed through residency, unable to find any path which felt right. After spending the summer at an ophthalmology course in Stanford, the slow realization that I may never find that passion in ophthalmology culminated in my final excruciating decision to leave my pediatric ophthalmology fellowship in 2005.

And so, this visit to San Francisco was a strange intersection of my former medical aspirations and my new existence, especially because my ten year medical school reunion also happened to be scheduled for Labour Day weekend in Vancouver. Since I had neither an ophthalmology practice nor child to brag about, going to San Francisco was definitely the better choice.


In between window shopping and a day trip to Napa with friends, we had three favourite meals. The Slanted Door in the Ferry Building provided excellent service, a fabulous view, and a well-balanced modern Vietnamese lunch (try the grapefruit and jicama salad as well as the cellophane noodles with crab). Perbacco, an Italian ristorante recommended by a former San Franciscan (thanks Thahn!), was a highlight not only because of our dinner company, but also because of the divinely tender seared squid on arugula and the hearty handcut tagliatelle with pork sugo which I devoured.

Most memorably, we made the pilgrimage to Chez Panisse and ate upstairs rather than downstairs (I like having choice). This historical birthplace of California cuisine and the organic locavore movement was cozy and straight from the 1970's but the food was refined and current. The duck breast with fig relish on rocket was so intense and delicious. Then, the wild nettle pudding soufflé with corn, zucchini, and chanterelle mushrooms was so uncomplicated and pure in flavour. I could eat there every day.

I will always love San Francisco for many reasons, the diversity, the hippie spirit, even the odd weather. But mainly, I will always love San Francisco because it was where I was filled with so much promise and desire to find passion and direction in my career despite not truly knowing what I was meant to be passionate about. Perhaps I am still on my way to finding out and this visit is merely another breath of inspiration.

Diversion: Alinea Restaurant, Chicago

Masked by a non-descript boxy gray building exterior, Alinea Restaurant should be re-named Alinea Interactive Dining Theatre. As guests, we were audience to a 3 ½ hour culinary show featuring the most innovative and orchestrated progressive American cuisine, courtesy of Chef/Owner Grant Achatz. From the moment we entered the dark glowing hallway and startled ourselves at the Star Trek-like automatic sliding door, we quickly realized that tonight’s twenty-three course “Tour” would be unique.


There were few pleasantries, no ambient music, and no menu provided. The minimalist décor was muted. This lack of sensory stimuli caused greater anticipation for things to come and I soon distracted myself by voyeuristically watching the action at neighbouring tables. The wait staff was polite but somewhat robotic in their delivery, rambling off course descriptions with much speed and little enthusiasm. More impressive was their high degree of attentiveness, as every crumb or watermark was removed from the tabletop within 2 minutes of its appearance.

The food, its presentation, and frequently, its consumption, provided the entertainment for the evening. A duo of crab, one served hot as crispy soft shell crab paired with English peas, duck confit, and Asian five-spice notes and the other served cold as a verrine with identical flavours plus a dried ginger concoction and tiny orange pate de fruit cubes, was bold, complex, and delicious. The most satisfying course for my palate was the pigeonneau à la Saint-Clair, a throwback to Escoffier, mainly because of the unfussy traditional flavours of squab, onion, and mushroom (the latter two ingredients being definite components of my “last meal”), a stark contrast to the 22 other hypermodern intricate courses. My choice for most intriguing bite was the green almond encased in a juniper gelée dotted on each corner with salt, sugar, lime zest, and citric acid.


Inventive and interactive presentation of the food using odd serving pieces called “the squid” or “the eye” made the act of eating novel and fun. A pin skewered through a hot potato ball, cubes of cheese and butter had to be pulled through a wax bowl before dropping into cold potato soup and slurped up. A clear tube filled with a hibiscus, vanilla, and bubble gum flavoured something was sucked out. Harnessing scents to complement a dish was successfully executed by using smoldering cinnamon sticks and pillows of lavender air that deflated by the weight of the plate. The dining experience was sensory and oddly playful despite being set in a room which was the exact opposite, a touch serious and monotone; however, I suspect that this was intentional in order to accentuate the food itself.

By the 10th course, I was becoming fatigued and by the 16th course, my belly was pleading for mercy. Because of our late 8:30pm seating, that lavender pillow was looking mighty tempting by the time it appeared at almost midnight. Nonetheless, we persevered and ate every last flossy, foamy, dehydrated, spherical, transparent bite. Unfortunately, after diligently photographing every course, I was delirious with gastronomic overload combined with sleep deprivation and forgot to photograph the final dish! In retrospect, the shorter “Tasting” experience would have been equally outstanding but if you do insist on this extreme dining marathon, then get an earlier reservation than we did. Ultimately, Alinea did not disappoint. The food and eating experience exceeded my expectations, overshadowing any subjective lack of ambience. I will safely tuck my souvenir copy of the May 31, 2009 “Tour” menu into my Alinea cook book and fondly reminisce about this once in a lifetime dining adventure for years to come.

Diversion: Sooke Harbour House

The Sooke Harbour House deserves more blog time than the one sentence I allotted in my last post. This lovely hotel combines nature, food, art, and relaxation anytime of the year (my four favourite things in life) and is just a short 40 minutes drive from Victoria, BC. Overlooking the Olympic Peninsula, SHH is remarkable for so many reasons but my focus was on the culinary philosophy and offerings from this luxurious but whimsical destination.

Both the exterior and interior of what is essentially a great big oceanfront house reflects SHH's devotion to all things food, celebrating the journey that food takes from the field or ocean to the plate. Even in the winter, wild greens flourish and end up in my Seventeen Leaf salad (I counted just to double check). Undoubtedly, the summer months would offer a more bountiful harvest of edible flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables but we were impressed by what was available during this cold dreary March, especially the 8 foot tall walking stick cabbage.

As a city mouse, not a country mouse, having a wood-burning fireplace in our room, the Passion Flower room (appropriate since my all-time favourite pastry ingredient is passionfruit), was a novelty. Every nook and cranny of the house is covered in local artwork inspired by the natural vistas and wildlife from land and sea. The wall of crabs in the dining room was particularly amusing, especially because of Eric's birthday cake.


There is very little negative to say about the SHH, except that I did not like the deconstructed apple strudel which concluded the seven-course tasting menu. Exceedingly sweet, it was a far cry from the impressive trio of sorbets we had the night before, pairing local flavours such as apricot and sage in creamy form. Ignoring this minute detail, our weekend at the Sooke Harbour House was the perfect romantic getaway to celebrate four decades of Eric's existence with outstanding local cuisine and beautiful surroundings.

Diversion: the Okanagan

Exploration and relaxation were on our agenda last weekend as we took a road trip into British Columbia's Okanagan Valley. The wine and seasonal fruit bountiful in this region, just a short four hours drive from Vancouver, attracted us and since it has been almost 18 years since I was in the Okanagan, a visit was due. Okanangan Wine Country is now internationally renowned for its extraordinary terroir, offering world class wines and equally delicious culinary experiences.


Our first stop was Mission Hill Estate Winery to enjoy an outdoor patio dinner at The Terrace, set atop a scenic overlook in Westlake. The five course tasting menu provided a masterful dining experience set against the dramatic architectural backdrop and landscape. My favourite was the Foie Gras au Torchon, accompanied by sweet quince purée, caramelized onion, and ice wine agar caviar on buttered toasted brioche. Dessert choices featured local orchard treasures, either ripe plump apricots or a trio of cherry concoctions, including a strudel which I plan to reproduce very shortly.


We stayed at a lovely bed & breakfast in Summerland under the shadow of Giant's Head Mountain, surrounded by the dry summer heat and early morning calls of quail (they say "Chicago! Chicago!"). At nearby Silkscarf Winery, along with wine, the most perfect Lapin cherries were for sale and after the first hour, I was already near maximum gastrointestinal capacity from unbridled cherry consumption. Later, I discovered that the Lapin variety of cherry was actually developed in Summerland in 1983 and to me, their crunchy dense texture and explosive flavour make them, by far, the best cherries I have enjoyed.


And of course, the wine. After visiting seven wineries with my wannabe sommelier husband, I think that at least, I know what I like. My grossly underdeveloped palate certainly lacks the finesse to appreciate the intricacies of fine wine and my Chinese liver lacks the enzymatic tools to deal with it. But we came home with a selection of reds and one white, some to be enjoyed now and some for later, when memories of the summer heat and succulent cherries have faded.

Diversion: glass

The legendary designs of Arthur Erickson and Dale Chihuly intersect at the breathtaking Museum of Glass in Tacoma, Washington. These two giants of design, each in his own medium, were featured in documentaries recently aired on television here. This prompted us to make a short weekend trip south to experience the architecture and glass exhibits at the MOG. The current exhibition features Lino Tagliapietra who is one of the world's preeminent glass artists. His work is astoundingly beautiful and fluid (no photography was allowed in the exhibition hall, but no photograph could do them justice anyways).


Connecting the MOG to the city of Tacoma is the Bridge of Glass, a 500 feet long pedestrian bridge in which three separate installations of Chihuly's work are contained. The centre of the bridge showcases the Crystal Towers, two 40 feet tall monuments created from large glacial blue sculptural crystals cast from a material called Polyvitro. They reminded me of giant blue sugar crystals. In fact, throughout my visit to the MOG, I kept wondering what would happen if a glass artist collaborated with a sugar artist? The ability of sugar to be cast, pulled, and blown to create endless forms mirrors the characteristics of glass but to a limit. Sugar has an impermanence and fragility unlike glass but their qualities in response to light and colour are alike.


Speaking of sugar, we headed to Bakery Nouveau (on the recommendation of my boss), a patisserie in West Seattle owned by William Leaman, an award-winning boulanger. As expected, there was a short line-up out the door; the unbelievable duck sandwich, croque-madame, macarons, passionfruit chocolate tart, and croissants which Eric and I shared (over a period of 24 hours, not at one meal) were simple yet superb.

Tasty hiatus: Part 3

I love lemons. Others may love chocolate or more exotic choices, but my heart belongs to the bright acidic flavour and smell of lemons. Call me boring or call me unadventurous, but I will take lemon curd over chocolate mousse any day of the week. Our visit to Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast was instant immersion into the land of lemons. Small lemons, big lemons, smooth lemons, bumpy lemons, and lemons as big as my head called limoncedro were sold in every town and citrus trees grew everywhere. To my understanding, limoncedro are used mainly for candied peel whereas regular limone are typical multi-purpose lemons, used for juice and zest as well as in the production of limoncello, a lemon liqueur which is the Sorrentine Peninsula's most famous product.

Oddly, I did not purchase any limoncello while in Sorrento for fear of breakage in transit and instead, was determined to make my own upon return having seen the simple process on the Food Network years ago. Certain recipes use vodka (40 to 50% alcohol) while others prefer up to 95% alcohol for maximal extraction of lemon oil. My liver and I opted for vodka instead of pure ethanol and as fate would have it, I received two free little bottles of EFFEN vodka (say it out loud, yes, it is pure marketing genius) in a gift bag from a certain awards ceremony I recently attended.

By simply combining vodka and lemon zest (no pith please) and waiting for a week, a beautiful golden hue was lent to the vodka and the aroma was intoxicating. After removing the zest, simple syrup was added and my limoncello was done. Had I steeped the zest even longer than a week, the lemon flavour could have been even more intense but I wanted to use my liqueur right away.


After four months of gathering dust, the cookbook Indulge: 100 Perfect Desserts by Claire Clark from The French Laundry, was given the attention it deserved. This cookbook is well-organized; the ingredients are presented by weight thankfully and the methods are descriptive and detailed, appropriate for serious amateurs and pastry professionals alike. I found a use for my limoncello in the "adult lemon trifle" recipe, an opportunity to use up some leftover lemon curd and yellow cake which was hibernating in the freezer.


The lemon curd was sandwiched between thin layers of yellow cake, which was then cubed and drenched in my homemade limoncello. Lemon posset was poured over the soaked cubes and topped with homemade amaretti crumbs and whipped cream. I had never heard of possets previously but this silky mix of lemon juice, sugar, and hot cream is so easy to make that it is almost embarassing. Having about 200 millilitres of limoncello left, we will have opportunities to reminisce about the lemons of the Amalfi Coast in the weeks to come.

Tasty hiatus: Part 2

Besides eating my way through Pierre Hermé's showcase, I did venture to other eateries in Paris in search of novel eye-catching items such as Sadaharu Aoki's bon bons maquillages, a rainbow assortment of enrobed ganache sticks. Flavours included yuzu, matcha, wasabi, and black sesame in addition to more traditional fare. Having been obsessed with rainbows as a child, my first impulse was to buy every flavour so that I could arrange them in the correct prismatic order, but I controlled myself and instead, purchased several pre-packaged boxes.


The main reason for visiting Paris this year was to attend Europain 2008, a massive trade show featuring 644 exhibitors representing the baking, pastry, chocolate, confectionary, and ice cream making industries. La Coupe du Monde de la Boulangerie and Le Mondial des Arts Sucrés competitions were also held concurrently at this event. As a relative neophyte in the world of artisan pâtisserie, the experience was overwhelming due to the sheer size (80,000 sq. metres of exhibition space) and scope of Europain.


Because I do not own my own pastry shop or bread factory and happen to be Canadian, not European, the majority of exhibits were irrelevant to me from a commercial standpoint; however, seeing the range of innovative products and technology available to the smallest artisanal pâtissier all the way to the largest industrial bread producer was fascinating. I will know where to come whenever I am in the market for a mixer large enough to fit six people with two whisk attachments that are each taller than me. Only some exhibitors were actually selling items direct to visitors, mainly half-price Easter chocolate molds, Flexipans sheets, and colourings.


To my amazement, my attention was drawn more towards breads and Viennoiserie because of how refined, beautiful, and diverse these yeasty products could be. Baguettes may have outnumbered humans at Europain but the other creations from the simple origins of flour, yeast, and water were most impressive, making my jaw drop on multiple occasions in wonder and awe.


My favourite two things at Europain were two dresses, one constructed from Flexipan bakeware and the other from bread. Complete with fedora, the little black silicon dress would be useful in any sticky social situation whereas the yeasty couture creation, France's bread showpiece for La Coupe du Monde de la Boulangerie, is a feast for the eyes and stomach.


Speaking of fashion, Milan proved to be a formidable destination for the couture-challenged person that I am today. Every Milanese woman was dressed right off the runway, complete with the big trophy purse and 4 inch stilettos. I, on the other hand, dressed in comfort flats and the chicest travel clothes I possessed, was more appropriately suited for window shopping and frequenting a renowned gourmet store, Peck Deli, which was steps away from our hotel. The Peck community also includes a lunch bar and the very upscale Michelin two-star Cracco Peck restaurant.


I could have spent many euros at Peck Deli but not having my own kitchen in Milan nor sufficient gastrointestinal capacity limited me from indulging in the many tantalizing terrines, pastas, salads, meats etc. The singular item which I fancied the most was a union of two things which I hold dearest to my epicurean heart, the macaron and gelato. There were small and large gelato-filled macarons as well as piped gelato roses on nougatine bases. I chose the large chocolate macaron with chocolate gelato and was impressed with how it was packed on dry ice within its own styrofoam box. In my haste to consume my hybrid dessert, I did not let it thaw enough and consequently, the macaron was not as soft as desired. Regardless, just when I thought macarons could not get any better, they do!

Tasty hiatus: Part 1

The first and last place I visited in Paris was Pierre Hermé. In fact, over the four days we spent in Paris, four visits were made, once to the rue Vaugirard boutique and thrice to the flagship rue Bonaparte boutique which was merely a short five minute walk from our hotel (not a coincidence). Unlike our 2007 visit, I streamlined my pâtisserie exploration to just six locations and concentrated the majority of my sucrose exposure to just 5 pastries and 17 macarons from Pierre Hermé, all shared equally with Eric, of course. We even had to wait patiently in queue this year on two occasions but the anticipation made it even more satisfying.

There is an air of formality in the boutique, as customers shuffle along, intently inspecting their choices, ooing, aahing and pointing, while the staff are bustling efficiently to help you. Larger entremets come first, then the individual sizes, followed by the macarons, with Viennoiserie, confections, and chocolates along an opposite wall. Let me introduce to you the spectacular items which graced our tastebuds after intense dissection. Excuse me if I sound like I am gushing, but it is truly indescribable how magnificent the balance of flavours and textures and the execution of Pierre Hermé's creations are.


Ispahan. The classic, often copied, pink beauty which features the signature triumvirate of rose, raspberry, and lychee. Strangely delicious even though I do not actually like rose or lychee very much individually. So gorgeous to look at, it was slightly tragic to have to stick a fork into the pink exterior, but after one bite, we had no reservations and dove head first into the rose macaron, rose cream, raspberry and lychees.


Plaisirs sucrés. This delicious marriage of milk chocolate and hazelnut is masterpiece which must be fun to assemble. By stacking a chewy hazelnut dacquoise base with fine milk chocolate tiles, praliné feuilleté (mixture of hazelnut paste with crisp wafery flakes), ganache, and milk chocolate cream, the result is actually very light on the palate with a pleasurable crunch.

Carrément Chocolat & Tarte au Café. The dark chocolate cube is minimalist in design but deceptively complex in texture, filled with the obligatory soft chocolate biscuit and rich mousse, but also fine shards of cocoa bean (much finer than cocoa nibs) for the most delicate crunch. A tart unlike no other, the coffee essence captured in this almost plain looking creation was unparalled. It was like drinking the best cup of espresso but in creamy ganache and chantilly form, finished with a buttery sandy pâte sablée crust and coffee fondant glaze.

2000 Feuilles. It's not an exaggeration. Millefeuille's big brother has the flakiest puff pastry, caramelized and buttery, sandwiched with hazelnut mousseline and praliné feuilleté. Anything between this puff pastry would be worth eating. I do not envy whoever has the job of cutting this fragile creation.


Macarons. The best for last. Undeniably the best in Paris, in my humble opinion, bordering on ridiculous how delicately thin the outer crisp skin of the macaron is, without any hint of chewiness or excessive sweetness, just a soft flavour implosion. My favourite is a tie between Arabesque (apricot & pistachio) and Mogador (milk chocolate & passionfruit). I could have eaten 3 dozen in one sitting if given the chance but I did need to leave room for salt and protein in my diet.


On the morning before our flight to Italy, we managed to squeeze in our final visit to Pierre Hermé and saw a Pierre Hermé delivery truck just outside our hotel. The temptation to hijack the truck was fleeting but did exist. Everything else we did in Paris, including Europain 2008, was eclipsed by the sheer delight I had in choosing, buying, inspecting, photographing and finally consuming the entremets and macarons shown above. Gushing now complete. Stay tuned for adventures at Europain and impressions of Milan and the Amalfi coast...

Losing sleep

I am not a morning person; however, due to the ungodly hour at which Eric's alarm clock rings every morning, my sleeping habits have slowly evolved over time. During my teens and twenties, fourteen hours of uninterrupted sleep on weekends was normal. In contrast, on my days off now, you will rarely find me in bed after 8 am. One of the benefits of waking up earlier is time to make and enjoy a civilized breakfast before rushing off to complete a page long To Do List. This Sunday, I used up some leftover buttermilk by making blueberry pancakes, served with an old family friend, Aunt Jemima.


I have been losing sleep for another reason. We have a house guest of the feline variety who likes to scratch on our bedroom door nightly. Simba is my sister's cat of nine years who, sadly, can no longer live with them because of allergies. Even though Aunt Charmaine is also allergic to cats, my attachment to Simba is so strong that we are considering feline adoption. During this short trial visit, I am weighing my itchiness and dislike of sticky fur against her gentle presence and undefinable bewitching qualities. I am so torn.


Soon, I will be jetlagged (or not, if melatonin can help it) because we are traveling to Europe again. In particular, we are returning briefly to Paris so I can attend Europain 2008, a large international trade show for baking, pastry, chocolate, and ice cream, before heading off to Italy. I love Parisian pastries but dare I say, I am looking forward to Italian cuisine even more!

Creative juices

Aloha! Our trip to the Big Island of Hawaii was a short but enjoyable escape from slushy Vancouver. With such diverse geology and biology in one BIG island, there was so much to explore. Highlights included the windy lava fields of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, snorkelling in crystalline Kealakekua Bay, and stargazing at over 13,000 feet elevation on Mauna Kea. While in Hilo, we also visited the Mauna Loa Macadamia Nut Factory to purchase the requisite teal blue tins for friends and family. Meanwhile, I may have overdosed on pineapple juice during my stay but I needed all the Vitamin C available to me to nurse my cold.


With so much pineapple and macadamia nut surrounding me, I could not refrain from dreaming up dessert ideas with these two ingredients in mind. I had bought a pound of ground toasted unsalted macadamia nut which could be used in a million different ways but I decided to make macadamia nut financiers to be served with a roasted pineapple and mint salsa.


Next, I made macadamia nut roca which was crumbled to support a scoop of caramelized banana and Malibu rum ice cream. So good, I must admit. Finally, presented in a glass, my version of a "Shirley Temple" gelée (orange-pineapple juice with grenadine) contrasted with a creamy coconut milk pannacotta. To anyone out there who is biochemically inclined, fresh pineapple juice actually does not set with gelatin because of bromelain, a protease found in pineapples. Heating the juice first solves this enzymatic dilemma.


This impromptu plated dessert exercise also gave me an opportunity to pull out my souvenir glass from Pierre Hermé which previously contained his Sensation Satine. It seemed appropriate since this dessert was the finale to a Parisian themed night which I shared with a good friend (okay, more like Ratatouille the movie themed night). Whatever the excuse, it was a pleasure to get my creative juices flowing once again.