Robert Beauregard of Rougemont sells a variety of squash at Jean-Talon Market
Each autumn, when squash ripens in Quebec fields and loads down the stalls in farmers’ markets, I think of the squash once grown by Canada’s First Nations. Squash is one of the Three Sisters, a trio of Quebec’s original vegetables introduced to 17th-century French explorers by the Iroquois. The other two—corn and beans—were grown together with squash in a system that’s been compared to modern companion planting.
First, the corn was started and then earth mounded up around its shoots. Next, beans were added so they could climb the cornstalks as well as attract and share nitrogen. Finally, squash was planted so the vines would wind around the mounds, keeping the earth moist under their big leaves and also controlling the weeds.
First Nations cooks prepare the Three Sisters together and separately. They like to combine the trio in a salad, and to make succotash with the corn and beans. Cornbread is popular, and soups of either corn or squash are favourites with Mohawks, one of the six-nation Iroquois League, and also, as it turns out, with Quebec chefs (see pages 123, 226, and 311). The best way to enjoy a squash, says Mohawk cultural researcher Alexis Shackleton, is also my favourite way—cut open, drizzled with maple syrup, and baked.
Alexis, who is director of social development on the Kahnawake Mohawk Territory, south of Montreal, calls the Three Sisters “part of our Creation story.” First Nations artists like to depict the three vegetables together. Historically, the corn should be white corn, says Mohawk soapstone sculptor Steve McComber, who likes to group the Three Sisters in his sculptures.
The bounty coming from Quebec farms is overwhelming in autumn, and the best place to see it is in the open-air markets and at country fairs. The markets dazzle the eye and overload the shopping bag, the big public markets in Montreal and Quebec City in particular, but also small markets in villages and towns all over Quebec.
The artistry of displaying produce is celebrated at Brome Fair, Quebec’s oldest farm fair. It has taken place annually in the tiny village of Brome since 1856. Vegetable farmers in this area of the Eastern Townships spend hours arranging an assortment of their tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, zucchini, onions, and cantaloupe.
Peppers do the best job of colouring market stands. I alternate pepper shopping at Jean-Talon Market between the Birri brothers, Italian-Canadian grower-vendors with property in Laval and Montreal’s South Shore, and Claude Desnoyers and Louisa Lachance, who farm at St-Damase, south of Mont-real. Both offer every variety, shape, and colour of pepper. Louisa credits the relatively new popularity of spicy cuisines—Mexican, Middle Eastern, West Indian, and South American—with the new demand for hot peppers.
Canada’s biggest duck producer, Brome Lake Ducks, celebrates autumn with an annual duck festival in Knowlton, its headquarters for growing plump Peking ducks. Festival visitors enjoy a “hot duck,” the wiener that replaces the hot dog. Restaurants throughout the area vary their duck recipes for pâté, breast, or confit (the leg cooked in duck fat), often using Quebec wines and ciders from the Eastern Townships wine country in the area around Dunham to accent this rich-tasting bird.
Duck is available whole or cut up and sells widely in supermarkets. Chefs vote for fancier ducks—Muscovy and others—which cost much more and are leaner. But home cooks appreciate the Peking duck’s fat when cooking the meat—you can put a duck breast skin side down, right on the barbecue or in a hot frying pan, and its own fat will prevent it from drying out. When roasting, you prick the skin, drain off the fat as the bird cooks, and then use that fat to make the best french fries. The fat is so popular that the company sells it in containers.
My favourite Quebec harvests are cranberries and apples. During September and October, the big apple-growing areas around Montreal are thronged with children, transported in their yellow school buses for a day in the country. The young pickers join hired harvesters in orchards where the apples hang so low off the trees, there’s no need for ladders. Walking through a McIntosh apple orchard in St-Joseph-du-Lac, northwest of Montreal, one sunny October day, I could hear four languages (English, French, Italian, and Spanish) being spoken up in the trees, the conversationalists descending from time to time to dump their fresh pickings into the big wooden containers used by growers.
A cranberry bog, flooded for harvesting, becomes a lake of red berries. Watching a harvest machine collect the fruit is mesmerizing; the process is pictured on page 376.
BEET SALAD WITH ORANGE AND BASIL DRESSING
WARM ENDIVE, ORANGE, AND SCALLOP SALAD
SEA BASS AND CLAMS ON A BED OF CAULIFLOWER AND POTATOES
SALMON GLAZED WITH MAPLE AND BOURBON
SALT COD, POTATO, AND ONION CASSEROLE
SWEETBREADS WITH MUSHROOM CREAM SAUCE
BRAISED LAMB SHANKS WITH POBLANO PEPPERS AND PINTO BEANS
CHARLEVOIX-STYLE RABBIT WITH TARRAGON SAUCE
BEEF CARBONNADE WITH RUTABAGA, CARAMELIZED ONIONS, AND ALFRED LE FERMIER CHEESE
FRESH AND HEALTHY SHEPHERD’S PIE
BEANS WITH PARTRIDGE OR ROCK CORNISH HENS
BREAST OF DUCKLING WITH SHALLOTS AND BALSAMIC SAUCE
MARCEL’S MASHED ROOTS WITH CHEESE CRUMB CRUST
Lively, oniony, buttery, these hors d’oeuvres are a favourite with the Jutras family, proprietors of Les Cultures de Chez Nous, a huge leek farm in Ste-Brigitte-des-Saults near Drummondville, northeast of Montreal. You can bake the toasts an hour ahead, let them stand, and then reheat just until hot.
1 1/2 cups (375 mL) thinly sliced leeks
1/3 cup (75 mL) butter, softened
5 teaspoons (25 mL) whole-grain mustard
2 teaspoons (10 mL) chopped fresh thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt
Freshly ground pepper
24 thin baguette or ciabatta slices, toasted
Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).
In a mixing bowl, mix together leeks, butter, mustard, thyme, salt, and pepper.
Spread toasted bread with leek mixture and arrange on a baking sheet. Bake until hot and lightly browned, 5 to 10 minutes.
Leeks need promotion or we ignore them. This long, white-stemmed member of the onion family is well appreciated by chefs, but less so by home cooks. In the autumn, Quebec farmers’ markets offer big bunches of leeks, so many of them tied together that you need to line up your neighbours to share a bundle. One of Quebec’s largest leek farms has made its vegetable easier for small families to use by washing, slicing, and packaging the leeks in various sizes of plastic bags. The cut-up leeks keep well in the refrigerator and also freeze well. The farm, called Les Cultures de Chez Nous, is family-run by Louis-Marie Jutras, his wife, Michelle Rajotte, and their three children. Visiting their leek fields east of Montreal, on the south shore of the St. Lawrence River, I was reminded of the delicate grey-blue look of a field of broccoli. Countless rows of leeks—six million leeks are planted each May—stood waving their stiff green leaves high in the air, promising rich flavour below the earth.
Louis-Marie Jutras and his daughter Valérie check leeks at their farm, Les Cultures de Chez Nous, at Ste-Brigitte-des-Saults.
Michelle is an expert at leek cuisine. She makes a fast leek-and-potato soup by cooking sliced leeks in a little butter, adding sliced baby potatoes and chicken stock, and then simmering the mixture until the vegetables are tender. To serve, she adds cream, seasons the soup with salt and pepper, and then sprinkles a little shredded Gruyère cheese on top. She also makes an easy supper dish by cooking 6-inch (15 cm) lengths of leeks in chicken stock until tender, then rolling each in a slice of cooked ham. She then arranges the leeks in a shallow baking pan, partly covers them with a cream sauce flavoured with Dijon mustard, tops them with grated cheddar or Gruyère cheese, and bakes the dish at 350°F (180°C) for 30 minutes.
When Nancy Hinton calls for wild mushrooms in a recipe, she means freshly picked in the wilderness. The chef at À la table des jardins sauvages in St-Roch-de-l’Achigan, northeast of Montreal, she has learned that mushrooms high in water content require high heat, while firm varieties with less water need longer cooking over medium-low heat and may even need added liquid. The mushroom mixture used for these toasts may also be served over hot fettuccine, with a sprinkle of freshly grated Parmesan cheese, or mixed with hot macaroni, sprinkled with grated cheese, and baked. Or use it to stuff oysters, mushrooms, or zucchini, then broil for a few minutes to brown.
2 tablespoons (30 mL) olive oil
1 package (8 ounces/250 g) fresh chanterelle mushrooms, trimmed and quartered
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 tablespoon (15 mL) unsalted butter
Pinch chili powder
Pinch dried thyme
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 cup (60 mL) dry white wine
1/2 cup (125 mL) mushroom stock, chicken stock, or vegetable stock
1/2 cup (125 mL) whipping cream
1/2 cup (125 mL) shredded Ménestrel or mild cheddar cheese (about 3 1/2 ounces/100 g)
1 egg, beaten
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Juice of 1/2 lemon or dash cider vinegar
Dash soy sauce
Dash Worcestershire sauce
1 baguette, thinly sliced
1 tomato, diced (1/2 cup/125 mL)
2 tablespoons (30 mL) finely chopped fresh herbs (chives, parsley, dill, or basil)
In a wide, heavy saucepan, heat oil over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms and sauté, stirring often, until they start to colour, about 5 minutes. If they are wet or release juices, keep heat at medium-high, otherwise reduce heat to medium.
Add shallots, butter, chili powder, and thyme and continue cooking over medium heat until mushrooms are uniformly coloured and cooked through, about 4 to 5 minutes total. Add garlic and cook for 1 minute.
Add wine and bring to a gentle boil, uncovered and stirring often, until it has almost evaporated. Add stock and cream and continue to cook, stirring often, until sauce thickens to desired consistency. Turn off heat. Stir in cheese and then egg. Season with salt, pepper, lemon juice, soy sauce, and Worcestershire sauce.
Meanwhile, preheat broiler and toast baguette slices.
In a cup, combine tomato and herbs. Spread mushroom mixture on baguette slices and broil for 3 to 5 minutes, just until golden. Top with tomato mixture and serve.
Wipe mushrooms with damp paper towels to clean them. If they look dirty, immerse them briefly in a large container of cold water. The dirt will sink to the bottom of the container. Then scoop them out of the water using a sieve or colander and spread out on paper towels to dry (or pat dry) before cutting and cooking.
This easy mushroom mixture can be made 1 day in advance, then covered and refrigerated. Reheat when ready to use.
Hunt mushrooms only with a trained mycologist because a few of these fungi are poisonous. Cook all wild mushrooms fully before eating, warns Chicoutimi mushroom forager Luc Godin, who harvests more than 20 varieties in the Saguenay region.
Fresh wild mushrooms are not easily available. Luc often relies on the dehydrated product, finding that it makes a satisfactory—and easy—sauce or soup. He puts dehydrated mushrooms (a 28 g/1 ounce package) in a small bowl, pours boiling water over them and lets them stand on the counter for 15 minutes. Then he drains them, and chops them coarsely. He then heats butter or oil in a pan, sautés the rehydrated mushrooms, and blends in cream and chicken stock.
Luc suggests pulverizing dried mushrooms with a grater or coffee grinder and using the powder instead of flour or bread crumbs to coat fish or seafood. Then sear the fish quickly in hot butter to give a crisp, bronze crust.
Brother and sister Marco and Suzy Latreille, self-taught cooks, grew up in Ville-Marie, in the Abitibi-Témiscamingue region of northwestern Quebec. Their mother kept them out of the kitchen when she cooked but passed on her belief in the importance of family dining. Marco uses a week of holidays from his auto sales job to help at cooking demonstrations at the annual regional Quebec-Ontario food fair called Foire Gourmande.
Pastry
1 1/3 cups (325 mL) all-purpose flour
Pinch salt
1/3 cup (75 mL) cold butter, chopped
1 egg, beaten
1 tablespoon (15 mL) ice water
Filling
8 ounces (250 g) cherry tomatoes (1 1/2 cups/375 mL)
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons (45 mL) maple syrup
7 ounces (200 g) shredded Cru du Clocher or aged cheddar cheese
Dried basil or oregano, for sprinkling
Small arugula leaves
Butter 6 aluminum foil tart shells, each 6 inches (15 cm) in diameter.
Combine flour and salt in a food processor. Add butter and pulse until butter is the texture of small peas. Add beaten egg and water, continuing to pulse, until pastry forms a ball. Remove from the food processor, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).
Roll out chilled pastry on a floured surface. Cut 6 rounds of pastry, each a little larger than the diameter of the 6 tart shells. Fit pastry into the tart shells. You should have enough pastry to shape or crimp with your fingers or a fork to make a raised border. Place the tart shells on a baking sheet and bake for about 5 minutes, just until the pastry turns golden. Remove baking sheet from oven, leaving the oven on, set on a rack and cool.
Cut tomatoes in half and press to remove seeds and juice. In a baking pan, arrange tomato halves cut side up. Season with salt and pepper and drizzle with maple syrup. Bake for 15 minutes.
Divide grated cheese among the tart shells and top with tomato halves. Return tarts to oven for 5 minutes. Remove from the oven, sprinkle with basil, and trim with arugula.
A good, ripe tomato works for you if you allow it to. That’s the principle behind two easy tomato sauce recipes, one from a veteran cooking teacher in Montreal’s Little Italy community, the other from an heirloom tomato grower in the Eastern Townships south of Montreal.
Elena Faita, partner in Little Italy’s kitchen and hardware store Quincaillerie Danté, teaches her cooking classes how to make her authentic Italian tomato sauce. First, remove tomato skins by blanching the tomatoes. This means making a small, criss-cross slash in the bottom of each tomato, then dropping it into a big pot of boiling water for from 30 seconds for small tomatoes up to two minutes for large ones. Quickly transfer the tomatoes to a bowl of ice water to halt the cooking. They will be easy to peel. Dice, removing seeds. Coat the bottom of a heavy pot with olive oil, heat it over medium heat and add two or three whole, peeled cloves of garlic per pound (500 g) of tomatoes. Once the cloves start to sizzle, add tomatoes. (Instead of fresh tomatoes, you may pour in a big can—28 ounces/796 mL—of top quality canned tomatoes.) Simmer over low heat until the garlic is soft. Remove the garlic, mash it, and return it to the pot. Season mixture with salt and six to eight fresh basil leaves. Cook for another five minutes, then cool, bottle, refrigerate, or use right away.
Gwynne Basen likes to use small, meaty tomatoes from her Mansonville garden. Her favourite variety is the Italian Principesse Borghese. Pack peeled tomatoes into a heavy casserole, smashing them together with a potato masher. Stuff in plenty of peeled, whole garlic cloves. Tuck a generous number of fresh basil leaves in among the tomatoes and garlic and pour good olive oil over the top. Bake, covered, in a 350°F (180°C) oven for 45 minutes or until the tomatoes are very soft. If you wish, purée in a food processor or blender.
Salad doesn’t have to be just green, especially when Quebec’s beet crop is fresh from the farm and arugula is at its best. Basil is the perfect accent and arugula provides some greenery, says Montreal food specialist Michelle Gélinas of this, her recipe. For flavour, fresh, young beets are best; storage winter beets come second; canned beets, third.
Vinaigrette
Grated peel and juice of 1 medium orange
Juice of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon (5 mL) honey
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons (30 mL) sunflower oil
Salad
1 pound (500 g) beets (4 or 5 medium)
4 cups (1 L) arugula
3 ounces (90 g) fresh goat cheese, sliced
4 tablespoons (60 mL) chopped fresh basil leaves
In a measuring cup, combine orange peel and juice, lemon juice, honey, salt, and pepper. Whisk in oil.
Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C).
Bake unpeeled beets in a baking pan with a little water added and covered with aluminum foil until fork-tender, about 1 hour. Cool in water, then peel and quarter.
In a mixing bowl, toss beets with half the vinaigrette to coat. Divide arugula among 4 plates.
Arrange beets on the arugula, followed by the cheese slices. Pour remaining vinaigrette over salad. Scatter each serving with basil.
Trim and sauté these rich-coloured leaves in olive oil with finely chopped garlic or just until wilted, advises my friend Susan Schwartz. Or steam the leaves and, when limp, toss with a vinaigrette made with olive oil, lemon juice, grated fresh gingerroot, salt, and pepper.
Beets offred at Jean-Talon market come in red, white and yellow, and in various shapes, from La Ferme Omer Charbonneau et Fils of St-Lin-Laurentides.
Just adding smoked fish or seafood to fresh ingredients can turn a recipe into a specialty, says Belgian-born chef Luc Gielen. He shops at Boucanerie Chelsea Smokehouse in Chelsea, just north of Ottawa, for smoked scallops, salmon, and albacore tuna. His signature salad was demonstrated at a Montreal festival of specialties from the Outaouais region of Quebec. Luc is a chef-teacher at the Gatineau culinary school Centre de formation professionelle Relais de la Lièvre-Seigneurie and also partner in the chocolate shop ChocoMotive in Montebello.
4 heads endive, leaves separated
1 small head Boston lettuce, trimmed
1 navel orange, segments coarsely chopped, juice reserved
24 toasted almonds or pecans
4 radishes, thinly sliced (optional)
1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
4 slices bacon
2 tablespoons (30 mL) olive oil
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 tablespoon (15 mL) maple syrup
3 tablespoons (45 mL) sherry vinegar
12 large smoked or fresh scallops
Prepare endive, lettuce, orange, almonds, radishes (if using), and parsley and set aside.
In a heavy frying pan, cook bacon until crisp. Drain on paper towels and then crumble.
Discard bacon fat, then heat oil in the pan over medium heat. Add shallots and cook, stirring often, until lightly coloured. Stir in maple syrup, vinegar, and 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the reserved orange juice, then set the pan aside.
Smoked scallops do not need cooking. If using fresh scallops, spray the bottom of a heavy frying pan with olive oil and heat over medium heat. Rinse scallops and pat dry with paper towels. Cook scallops for 1 to 2 minutes per side, just until lightly coloured.
Meanwhile, arrange endive and lettuce on 4 serving plates. Scatter with chopped oranges, almonds, radishes, parsley, and bacon. Top with scallops. Warm orange juice dressing in the pan, stirring constantly. Drizzle over salad.
Back in 1975, the sharply flavoured Belgian endive was imported from Belgium and France to Quebec and sold only to French chefs and a few Quebec connoisseurs. Jean-Michel Schryve, a farmer who had emigrated from France, decided to grow it locally. Experimenting with more than 30 varieties of seeds, he eventually settled on a French seed that would mature quickly in Quebec’s short growing season. Schryve’s endive, while beautiful and crisp, had a milder flavour than the European type, and was slow to catch on. He decided to seek help. Suzanne Paré Leclerc, for decades the dynamic public relations officer for the Quebec agriculture department, can still remember a chilly winter morning in the early 1980s when the burly farmer arrived in her Montreal office holding a box of his endive. “He said, ‘I want you to help me market this food,’” she remembers. “I asked him when his crop would be ready. ‘It takes 21 days to grow, so we have 21 days.’”
Whipping into action, she had a bus bring the Montreal food journalists to the farm, and even persuaded her boss, Jean Garon, the Parti Québécois minister of agriculture, to attend. Schryve’s wife, Francine, made her favourite endive hors d’oeuvres, Suzanne served white wine, and we all stood around in the barn relishing both the food and an unusual food story and listening to Garon talk up specialty-vegetable growing with Schryve. The finale in Suzanne’s campaign was a chef’s recipe contest she then staged, attracting about a hundred recipes. No matter that European-born chefs beat the Quebecers by winning the top prizes: the public noticed, soon upwards of 10 growers were producing endive in Quebec, and both supermarkets and consumers showed interest in a product that was cheaper than the import and fresh all winter. In the end, the Schryve family came out on top. Philippe, Jean-Michel and Francine’s son, saw competition dwindle by 1990. He now supplies the whole province, exports endive to Ontario and the northeastern United States, and has launched an organic version. Taste, and be converted, he says. “People who know it eat a lot. Some buy five pounds a week.”
Endive grows in darkened barns near St-Clet.
Patrick Turcot, executive chef at Fairmont Le Manoir Richelieu in La Malbaie, Charlevoix, got the idea for this recipe when working at the Fairmont Hotel Macdonald in Edmonton. His duck and vegetable supplier was a farm in Leduc, Alberta, called Greens Eggs and Ham. He created the recipe using the farm’s duck eggs, which he scrambled. This version calls for poaching eggs and creates a meal in a bowl. Patrick, a native of Quebec City and graduate of Montreal’s Institut de tourisme et d’hôtellerie du Québec, praises the quality and variety of fruit and vegetables available to him in the Charlevoix region. He uses duck from La Ferme Basque de Charlevoix in St-Urbain.
2 duck legs confit (optional)
4 tablespoons (60 mL) butter, or as needed
1 small leek, minced
2 medium onions, chopped
1 clove garlic, mashed (optional)
1/2 cup (125 mL) dry white wine
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 pounds (1 kg) fresh zucchini, peeled and diced
1 small potato, peeled and diced
2 cups (500 mL) chicken stock
6 small or medium eggs, poached (optional)
Remove skin from duck legs (if using), and place skin in a small frying pan over low heat. Cook gently until fat in skin is melted. Discard skin. Measure 3 tablespoons (45 mL) of the duck fat, or use butter if desired, into a saucepan. Set the pan over medium-low heat and sauté leek until softened, about 5 minutes. Cover and keep warm. Meanwhile, remove meat from duck bones, shred meat finely, and add to leeks, mixing well. Again cover to keep warm.
Alternatively, sauté the leek in 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the butter until softened, about 5 minutes. Cover and keep warm.
In a large saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the butter over medium heat and sauté onions and garlic (if using), stirring often, until tender and lightly caramelized, about 5 minutes. Deglaze pan by adding wine and scraping up brown bits from the bottom.
Season onion mixture with salt and pepper. Add zucchini, potato, and stock to the pan. Cover and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, until potato is tender. In a blender or food processor, purée soup until smooth. Return to the pan and cook until soup is hot.
When ready to serve, put a poached egg (if using) into each of 6 warmed shallow bowls. Divide leek-duck mixture between the 6 bowls and finally pour the soup over the top and serve hot.
Carrot soups are popular in Quebec, and carrots grow so well here that there’s usually a hefty export business to the United States. This recipe belongs to my friend and Gazette colleague Susan Schwartz, who originally made it with orange juice as part of the liquid, and rice instead of potatoes. She gradually increased the flavour by adding ginger, and found that potatoes gave the soup more taste than rice.
1 tablespoon (15 mL) olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
8 good-sized carrots, sliced in 1/2-inch (1 cm) rounds
1 medium potato, peeled and cubed
1 to 2 tablespoons (15 to 30 mL) grated fresh gingerroot
5 cups (1.25 L) vegetable stock, chicken stock, or water
Salt and freshly ground white pepper
In a large saucepan or stock pot, heat oil over medium heat and sauté onion until translucent, about 5 to 6 minutes. Do not allow onion to brown. Add carrots and potato, stirring briefly. Add ginger and stock, bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium-low, partly cover, and cook until vegetables are tender, 20 to 25 minutes.
Remove pan from heat and cool soup slightly. Purée in a blender or food processor. If desired, purée half the soup until smooth, and half until blended but not smooth, and then combine.
Return soup to the pan and reheat to serving temperature. Season with salt and white pepper.
The soup can be prepared 1 day in advance, then covered and refrigerated. Reheat before serving. The recipe can be doubled, if desired, and the soup freezes well.
Cauliflower comes in four colours in Quebec: the original snowy white ranging to pale cream, plus purple, orange, and green. Chefs Pascal Cormier and Annie Lacombe of Montreal worked together to develop this richly flavoured cool-weather soup when they were both cooking at Restaurant L’Autre Version in Old Montreal. It raises humble cauliflower into the gourmet class. Pascal suggests serving the soup with a topping of smoked fish, either salmon or sturgeon, cut in slivers, and a sprinkling of fresh dill.
2 tablespoons (30 mL) butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/2 cup (125 mL) dry white wine
1 small cauliflower, broken into florets
1 cup (250 mL) vegetable stock
1 cup (250 mL) whipping cream
3 sprigs fresh thyme
Pinches salt and freshly ground white pepper
Milk, as needed
In a large, heavy saucepan, melt butter over medium heat and cook onion and garlic, stirring often, until softened. Add wine and simmer until mixture almost dries out.
Reduce heat to low and add cauliflower, stock, cream, thyme, salt, and white pepper. Simmer just until cauliflower is tender. Remove thyme.
Using a potato masher, mash cauliflower until smooth. If soup is too thick, thin with milk to desired consistency. Add more salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot.
Fresh, crisp, and creamy, cauliflower makes a good salad if you slice the florets top to bottom and dress with a vinaigrette of olive oil, Dijon mustard, and lemon juice. Another way to enjoy this hardy vegetable is to slice a head thickly from top to bottom and grill the slabs as if they were steaks.
Roasting florets intensifies their natural sweetness. Toss first with olive oil, sea salt, and pepper, then spread in a pan in a single layer and roast at 450°F (230°C) for 20 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until crisp and browned. Serve hot or warm, topped with roasted sliced almonds or grated lemon peel, or cooled with chopped radicchio and a vinaigrette.
Cauliflower comes in four colours in Quebec.
Chef Nancy Hinton shows a harvest of wild mushrooms for À La Table des Jardins Sauvages, St-Roch-de-l’Achigan.
A restaurant seriously off the beaten track and named for its wild gardens is not the usual place for the finest contemporary cuisine. But a cottage on the St-Esprit River near St-Roch-de-l’Achigan, 45 minutes’ drive northeast of Montreal, has become a gastronomic haven, its food unique, its cuisine enjoyed by dining critics and customers alike.
At the stove is Nancy Hinton, a diminutive chef whose career includes senior positions in top Quebec restaurants. Supplying her with what she calls “wild edibles” is François Brouillard, a forager who learned to pick and savour weeds and wildflowers from his grandmother.
Bring along fine wine when you reserve for a tasting menu of whatever François has harvested. Nancy serves periodic theme dinners based on mushrooms (see her recipe on page 212), duck, maple, or summer greens, and regular weekend feasts. You will be offered rare delicacies such as oysters baked with sea spinach, a cattail (bulrush) you eat as if it’s a cob of corn, organic quail flavoured with wild ginger, venison tourtière with pickled day-lily buds, puffball cooked like eggplant, and chocolate mousse made with chanterelle mushrooms. Her exotic menus may raise the questions, why serve this cuisine, and why here?
It’s the result of a food romance. Nancy fell out of love with chemical engineering studies at McGill University and took a professional cooking course. François turned from organic gardening to full-time foraging and met Nancy at the kitchen door of the celebrated Ste-Adèle restaurant L’Eau à la Bouche, where she was executive sous-chef.
They’ve been a couple working and living together since 2005, and their stall at Montreal’s Jean-Talon Market is a source for his fresh, wild finds and her preserves, be they sous vide, dried, pickled, infused, or frozen.
Growing up in the Quebec City suburb of Ste-Foy, “my nose was always in the kitchen. I spent any extra money eating in fancy restaurants, and I started buying cooking magazines,” she recalls. Signing up for a cooking course at Montreal’s Pearson School of Culinary Arts, she remembers chef-teacher Rick Oliver giving her a copy of On Food and Cooking, by food science writer Harold McGee. That book showed her the link between chemistry and cuisine, and helped set her on a path to becoming a chef. She spent the next 18 years cooking in Quebec restaurants, both bistro and fine dining.
Moving to François’s stamping ground in the Lanaudière region, northeast of Montreal, Nancy brought with her knowledge of how to prepare a few wild edibles taught by her former boss, Chef Anne Desjardins, then executive chef of L’Eau à la Bouche, and two other top chefs, Normand Laprise of Montreal and Daniel Vézina of Quebec City, all wild-food fanciers. François added his family’s recipes, and Nancy dipped into wild-food books for ideas. “As soon as he guaranteed me that something was edible, I mostly just went with my instincts and cooking experience, trying and testing.”
Quebec is blessed with cherry tomatoes year-round, thanks to market gardeners in warm weather and hydroponic growers the rest of the year. Often available yellow, always available red, these morsels of sweet juice are such a basic that cooks use them as an ingredient in recipes. Jane Livingston, a talented Knowlton cook, adds cherry tomatoes to a pasta dish.
4 cups (1 L) red and yellow cherry tomatoes, quartered
1/3 cup (75 mL) slivered fresh basil leaves
1 clove garlic, crushed and chopped
4 tinned anchovy fillets, diced (optional)
1 tablespoon (15 mL) red wine vinegar
1/2 cup (125 mL) olive oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 pound (500 g) spaghettini or other pasta
1/2 cup (125 mL) freshly grated Parmesan cheese
In a mixing bowl, toss together tomatoes, basil, garlic, anchovies (if using), vinegar, oil, salt, and pepper.
In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook spaghettini until al dente. Transfer to a large, heated serving dish and pour tomato sauce over top, tossing to coat. Sprinkle with cheese and serve at once.
Quebec has been producing beer since the early 17th century, and Quebecers drink it with enthusiasm, an estimated half-million servings a day, 500 million litres a year. Brewing news is made today by the lively microbrewing industry. More than 60 independents and almost 40 artisanal brewers or brew-pub operators make a variety of styles in Quebec, reflecting the beer traditions of Germany, Belgium, and England. Quebec brews regularly win top ratings across Canada. Peter McAuslan, founder of Brasserie McAuslan and a leader in Quebec microbrewing, compares Quebec’s brewing scene today to that of Belgium’s. “There is a virtual explosion of breweries and styles,” says the brewer, now retired. “We are the Cirque du Soleil of beer producers.”
Proof of the strength of these craft brews can be found in the behaviour of the major breweries, led by Molson, the oldest operating brewery in North America, and still at its original 1786 location by St. Mary’s Current, in east-end Montreal. Aware that microbrews command about 7 per cent of Canada’s market share and that that number is climbing, the giants Molson and Labatt keep in the game by producing their own craft-styled products, or by buying up smaller breweries that so far remain independent from their industrial owners.
Before the 1940s, the large brewers still brewed India pale ales, stouts, bocks, and lagers. Gradually they settled on their middle-of-the-road bestselling brands, a trend helped by their becoming part of multinational breweries when Labatt was bought by Anheuser-Busch and Molson joined Coors. Beer critic Philippe Wouters believes the new beers from the microbrewers show that they have dipped back into Quebec and international brewing history to offer modern interpretations of early beers. Beer in New France would have been made of wheat flours, barley, oats, or spruce at the Quebec City brewery founded in 1668 by Intendant Jean Talon. Robust porters and stouts, and pale ales became the norm after the British conquest of 1759, with lagers appearing late in the 1800s. In the period from 1988 to today, variety seems unlimited. Gilles Jourdenais, who sells Quebec microbrews in a tiny beer store attached to his Atwater Market cheese shop, estimates he stocks 400 brands, including beer made with such fruits as black currants, blueberries, peaches, and apricots.
The place to sample new Quebec beers is in brew-pubs and bars, says Wouters, a Belgian-Quebecer who publishes the monthly Bières et plaisirs newspaper. A new trend is in restaurants, where some sommeliers will suggest a certain brew with the cuisine instead of the habitual wine.
This Portuguese family dish looks modest but offers a lively combination of flavours and textures. Helena Loureiro, chef-owner of Montreal’s popular Portuguese restaurant Portus Calle, remembers her grandmother and mother making it with Mediterranean sea bass in their home in Fatima, Portugal. If you like, substitute carrots, parsnips, celery root, or white beans for the cauliflower, she suggests.
1 pound (500 g) sea bass fillets, 1 1/2 inches (4 cm) thick
Juice of 1 lemon
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 Yukon Gold or other yellow-fleshed potatoes, peeled and cubed (1 1/2 cups/375 mL)
2 cups (500 mL) cauliflower florets
4 tablespoons (60 mL) olive oil
4 tablespoons (60 mL) chopped fresh coriander
1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
1/2 cup (125 mL) dry white wine
20 littleneck clams, rinsed
Rinse fish and pat dry with paper towels. Combine lemon juice, salt, and pepper in a resealable plastic bag, add fish, turning gently to coat, then marinate in the refrigerator for 1 hour. Just before cooking, drain fish and pat dry.
Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan, cook potatoes in boiling salted water over medium heat just until tender. In another medium saucepan, cook cauliflower in boiling salted water over medium heat just until tender, 5 to 10 minutes. (Don’t cook vegetables together, as the potatoes will take longer.)
Drain both vegetables, return them to their pans and set each pan over very low heat for a few minutes to dry out the vegetables slightly. Transfer cauliflower to the potato pan and mash vegetables together with a potato masher (not a blender or food processor), just until combined.
Season with salt and pepper, then toss with 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the oil and 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the coriander. Cover and keep warm in a double boiler.
In a large, heavy frying pan, heat remaining 2 tablespoons (30 mL) oil over medium heat and cook onion until golden, about 3 minutes. Add wine and stir to deglaze the pan.
Place fish on onion and continue cooking for 1 minute. Arrange clams around fish. Cover pan and continue cooking for 8 to 10 minutes, until clams open. Discard any clams that do not open.
Have ready 4 deep, wide warmed plates or soup bowls. Spread mashed vegetables on the plates, top with fish, and surround fish with clams. Drizzle cooking juices over the fish and clams and sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons (30 mL) coriander.
An inn located in a sugar maple wood is likely to offer maple-flavoured cuisine. At Auberge des Gallant, near Ste-Marthe, west of Montreal, Chef Neil Gallant, son of innkeepers Gérard and Linda, likes to combine maple with liquor and seasonings. Rye whisky can replace the bourbon, and Arctic char, the salmon. Do not use the bourbon mixture as a marinade, Neil warns, as it will overflavour the dish.
1/2 cup (125 mL) medium or dark maple syrup
1 tablespoon (15 mL) soy sauce
1 tablespoon (15 mL) grated fresh gingerroot
1 teaspoon (5 mL) crushed garlic
Pinch red pepper flakes
2 tablespoons (30 mL) bourbon
Sunflower oil, for searing
4 1-inch-thick (2.5 cm) thick salmon fillets (5 ounces/150 g each)
Freshly ground pepper
Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C).
In a small saucepan, combine maple syrup, soy sauce, ginger, garlic, red pepper flakes, and bourbon and bring to a boil over medium heat. Simmer for about 1 minute, then remove from heat.
In a large, heavy, oven-safe frying pan with a lid, add just enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan and heat over medium-high heat. Sprinkle fish fillets with pepper and sear, skin side up, for about 1 minute.
Turn fish skin side down and remove pan from heat. Pour maple mixture over fish and bake for 5 minutes. Remove from the oven and baste fish with maple mixture. Cover pan and let stand for 1 minute.
Serve fish on warmed plates, each piece drizzled with sauce.
Portuguese Montrealers keep the craze for salt cod alive, despite the near-collapse of the Canadian East Coast cod fishery. That craze can be traced back to the 15th century, when Portuguese fishermen fished along the Gaspé coast and landed to salt their catch. Flora Lopes honours her Portuguese culinary tradition with hearty dishes such as this one, named Bacalhau à Gomes de Sá for the restaurant Gomes de Sa in Porto, in northern Portugal. She uses fish salted and dried on the Bay of Chaleur and sold at fish stores catering to the Portuguese. She might not approve the method, but I discovered that I could reheat this dish in the microwave without losing any of the flavour or texture.
1 1/2 pounds (750 g) salt cod
4 large potatoes (about 700 g), peeled, cubed
4 tablespoons (60 mL) olive oil
2 large onions, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 bay leaf
Salt and freshly ground pepper
4 hard-boiled eggs
Black olives, pitted
Finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
In a wide, deep pan, soak the dried cod in cold water in the refrigerator for 24 to 48 hours, changing the water five times. Cover the pan so the refrigerator doesn’t smell of fish.
In a saucepan of cold salted water, boil potatoes until tender, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile in a large, heavy frying pan, heat oil and cook onions, garlic, and bay leaf, stirring often, until onions are softened, about 10 minutes.
Place cod in another large saucepan; it will have softened and be easy to fit into the pan. Cover with cold water. Set over high heat, bring to a boil, and cook until fish is tender, about 20 minutes. Drain and, working quickly so the fish doesn’t cool, remove flesh from bones. Discard bones and skin and break fish into bite-size pieces.
Preheat the oven to 250°F (120°C) if you’re not planning to serve the dish right away. In a deep, 2-quart (2 L) baking dish, arrange layers of potatoes, fish, and onion mixture, finishing with onions. Drizzle each layer with a little olive oil.
Slice eggs and arrange over onions. Poke olives in between egg slices. Sprinkle with parsley. Keep warm in the oven until ready to serve.
Driving along the Bay of Chaleur on a sunny afternoon, looking for an old-style fish-processing company, I got lucky. Here, just west of Percé, on grassy slopes overlooking the bay, I could see a fish-preserving process underway that’s been going on along this coast for 400 years. It’s rarely in operation these days, because the near-demise of the cod fishery in eastern Canada has decimated the cod catch. But on that day, I was able to see Gaspé Cure in the making, just as it has been in these parts since about 1650. The fishermen at Poissonnerie Lelièvre, Lelièvre et Lemoignan (nicknamed “the Three Ls”) were at work on some Newfoundland cod, casting an occasional eye skyward because integral to the process is the Gaspé’s steady, dry, northwestern wind.
Roch Lelièvre dries salt cod on the shore of the Bay of Chaleur at Ste-Thérèse-de-Gaspé.
First, the fish had been cleaned and layered in bins with generous scoops of coarse salt. Then, after marinating in a chilled warehouse for 21 days, the cod had been drained of brine and was in the process of being laid out to dry outdoors on rustic-looking wooden racks called “flakes,” made of a network of wood sticks. The remnants of these flakes can be seen all along the southern Gaspé coast. At the Three Ls, some were the originals, others helped along by wooden poles and wire mesh. The fish stays there, covered with small board roofs if it rains, for up to three weeks. Dried this way and refrigerated, the salt cod will keep for a year. “That wind dries the fish so well, we can use less salt … and our fish is more tender on the outside and nearly transparent when it’s finished drying,” says Roch Lelièvre, company manager.
The other source for this product is Nova Scotia, but there more salt is required in the process, Roch says, because Nova Scotia winds are more moist. Besides Quebecers, his customers are mostly in the Mediterranean, accustomed over the centuries to the Gaspé’s lightly salted fish. The rest of the month, Roch counts on frozen cod from Alaska for his supplies. City fish shops selling the product cater to people who like their bacalhau (salt cod), most of them with roots in the Mediterranean.
This delicately flavoured meat is rare on Quebec menus. Dining my way about the Saguenay region of northern Quebec, I enjoyed this dish at Auberge-Bistro Rose & Basilic in Alma, where Mathieu Gagnon was chef. Gagnon, who is now cooking at the International Café in Chicoutimi, estimates that, once the bouillon is made and the first step in cooking the sweetbreads is complete, it takes only seven minutes to make this dish. It’s been called a recipe for people who enjoy cooking, but is not difficult.
Bouillon (see below)
1 pound (500 g) veal sweetbreads, trimmed of their membrane
Flour, for dredging
1/3 cup (75 mL) clarified butter (see opposite page)
1 pound (500 g) shiitake mushrooms, stems discarded, chopped
1 shallot, minced
2 tablespoons (30 mL) whole-grain mustard
1/2 cup (125 mL) fond de veau (page 56)
3 tablespoons (45 mL) whipping cream
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup (60 mL) each chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, thyme, and chives or green parts of green onions
In a medium saucepan, combine a bouquet garni (2 bay leaves and sprigs of fresh parsley and thyme tied together with string or in a cheesecloth bag), 1 onion cut in quarters, 1 sliced carrot and 1 sliced celery stalk. Cover with cold water, add salt and freshly ground pepper, and bring to a boil over medium heat. Simmer for 30 minutes, then cool, and add juice of 1 lemon. Strain.
Pour bouillon into a medium saucepan, add sweetbreads, bring to a boil over medium heat, and simmer for 5 minutes.
Drain sweetbreads, dry on paper towels, and transfer to a plate. Cover with paper towels, then place another plate or chopping board on top, followed by a heavy weight. Let stand for 30 minutes to press out the extra moisture.
Dry sweetbreads with paper towels and slice into two along the width. Dip in flour, shaking off excess.
In a large, heavy frying pan, melt the clarified butter over high heat and sear the sweetbreads on each side just until they are crisp, about 1 to 2 minutes a side. Transfer to a plate, cover, and keep warm.
In the same pan over medium heat, cook the mushrooms and shallot just until soft but not browned, 2 to 3 minutes. Add mustard, fond de veau, and cream. Simmer, stirring often, just until thickened to sauce consistency. Season with salt, pepper and fresh herbs. Keep warm.
To serve, slice hot sweetbreads into four equal portions, place on heated serving plates, and add the sauce. Serve with mashed potatoes and a green vegetable.
To make clarified butter, melt butter in a small saucepan over low heat, drain off the clarified, clear liquid, and discard the sediment.
Fond de veau is obtainable commercially or at butcher shops, fresh or frozen. Or, use the powdered product. To make 1/2 cup (125 mL), mix 2 teaspoons (10 mL) powder with 1/2 cup (125 mL) hot water.
Quebec French cuisine “with a Latin accent” is the specialty of Montreal chef David Ferguson, Ontario-raised and a graduate of the Stratford Chefs School. Faithful to French culinary techniques at his midtown bistro, Restaurant Gus, David also adds flavours learned on his cooking sojourns in Mexico and New Mexico.
2 large onions
3 tablespoons (45 mL) olive oil
4 lamb shanks
1 medium carrot, peeled and sliced
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 leek, white part only, chopped
5 1/2 cups (1.375 L) cold water
1 tablespoon (15 mL) finely chopped fresh thyme or rosemary
1/2 ancho pepper, rehydrated (see below)
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 can (19 ounces/540 mL) beans, preferably pinto or red kidney, drained and rinsed
4 Roma tomatoes, peeled and coarsely chopped, or 2 cups (500 mL) canned Italian tomatoes
1 poblano pepper, grilled, peeled, seeded, and cut in strips
Preheat the oven to 300°F (150°C).
Finely chop 1 of the onions. In a 4-quart (4 L) heavy, stovetop-safe casserole dish with a lid, heat 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the oil over medium-high heat and brown lamb on all sides. Remove to a plate. Reduce heat to medium and, in the same casserole dish, sauté carrot, chopped onion, garlic, and leek just until golden, about 5 minutes.
Add ½ cup (125 mL) of the cold water to the pan and scrape up any brown bits. Return lamb to the casserole dish and add 5 cups (1.25 mL) cold water or enough to cover. Add thyme and ancho pepper. Bring mixture to a boil, then cover, transfer to the oven and roast for 1 hour and 45 minutes, until lamb is tender.
Remove lamb to a plate. Season the cooking liquid with salt and pepper. Discard ancho pepper. Simmer cooking liquid until it is reduced to about 3 cups (750 mL).
Meanwhile, cut remaining onion in half vertically, then slice finely. In a heavy frying pan, heat remaining 1 tablespoon (15 mL) oil over medium-high heat and cook onion until caramelized.
Return lamb to casserole dish. Add beans, tomatoes, caramelized onion, and poblano pepper. Reheat mixture and serve on deep, warmed serving plates.
To rehydrate the ancho pepper, cut it in half and roast in a 350°F (180°C) oven for 5 to 10 minutes. Remove and discard seeds. Place in a small bowl, add boiling water to cover, and soak for 5 to 10 minutes. Drain and pat dry.
Rabbit, fresh or frozen, has become a regular at Quebec meat counters, and more and more chefs experiment with this tender, lean meat. Treat it as you would chicken and expect less fat in the meat, so don’t dry it out with overcooking. This braised rabbit dish comes from Dominique Truchon, veteran Charlevoix chef. He regularly serves rabbit at his restaurant and inn, Chez Truchon, located in a 19th-century mansion in La Malbaie.
10 whole black peppercorns
2 tablespoons (30 mL) butter
2 tablespoons (30 mL) vegetable oil
4 rabbit legs, skin removed
1 carrot, peeled and cut in chunks
3 stalks celery, cut in chunks
1 medium leek, white part cut in chunks, green part reserved
1 1/4 cups (300 mL) dry white wine
6 tablespoons (90 mL) whole-grain mustard
1 bouquet garni (3 bay leaves, sprigs of fresh thyme and flat-leaf parsley, and 1 clove garlic enclosed in green part of a leek and tied together with kitchen string)
3 cups (750 mL) chicken stock
Tarragon sauce
1 tablespoon (15 mL) butter
1 shallot, finely chopped
3/4 cup + 1 tablespoon (190 mL) dry white wine
1 cup (250 mL) fond de veau (page 56)
2 tablespoons (30 mL) finely chopped fresh tarragon (or 2 teaspoons/10 mL dried)
Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). Place peppercorns in a wire mesh tea infuser or tie in cheesecloth.
In a large, heavy saucepan, heat butter and oil over medium heat. Sear rabbit until golden, about 10 minutes per side. Transfer meat to a plate and keep warm.
In the same pan, cook carrot, celery, and leek just until lightly browned. Add wine and deglaze pan by scraping brown bits up from the bottom. Simmer liquid for about 5 minutes, then stir in mustard.
Place bouquet garni in the bottom of a 3-quart (3 L) oven-safe casserole dish with a lid. Add peppercorns, rabbit legs, stock, and carrot mixture. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then cover and bake for 1 hour or until rabbit is tender to the fork.
While rabbit is in the oven, in a small saucepan, melt butter over medium heat and sauté shallot just until tender and lightly coloured, about 3 minutes. Add wine and simmer until it has reduced almost completely. Stir in fond de veau and tarragon and set aside.
Remove rabbit from casserole dish and keep warm. Strain mixture in casserole dish. Add tarragon sauce. Heat and serve rabbit with sauce.
Fond de veau is obtainable commercially or at butcher shops, fresh or frozen. Or, use the powdered product. To make 1/2 cup (125 mL), mix 2 teaspoons (10 mL) powder with 1/2 cup (125 mL) hot water.
This succulent braised and baked stew is Belgian-inspired and a prize-winner developed by Danny St-Pierre, chef-owner of the restaurants Auguste and Chez Augustine in Sherbrooke. He won a silver medal with the dish at the 2011 Montreal contest of Gold Medal Plates, the annual chef fundraiser for Canada’s Olympic athletes. The natural sweetness of the vegetables is enriched with beer and cheese.
2 tablespoons (30 mL) salted butter
2 tablespoons (30 mL) vegetable oil
2 pounds (1 kg) beef chuck or blade, trimmed, cut in 1 1/4-inch (3 cm) cubes
4 cups (1 L) finely sliced onions (3 or 4 medium)
1 cup (250 mL) maple syrup
2 cups (500 mL) dark beer
4 cups (1 L) rutabaga cut in 1-inch (2.5 cm) cubes
1 teaspoon (5 mL) salt
Freshly ground pepper
2 1/4 cups (560 mL) dried bread, cut in 1-inch (2.5 cm) cubes
1 clove garlic, mashed in 4 tablespoons (60 mL) vegetable oil
3 cups (750 mL) coarsely grated Alfred le fermier or aged cheddar cheese
1 cup (250 mL) fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, stems discarded, sprinkled with malt vinegar, for serving
Place the oven rack in centre position. Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C).
In a heavy, 3-quart (3 L) stovetop-safe casserole dish with a lid, heat butter and oil over medium-high heat, then sear meat on all sides, about a dozen pieces at a time so as not to overcrowd the pan. When browned on all sides, transfer meat to a plate and keep warm.
Cook onions in pan drippings over medium-low heat until golden, then return meat to the pan. Continue cooking, turning the ingredients, until both meat and onions have a rich brown colour. Stir in maple syrup, then beer and rutabaga. Add enough water to cover meat. Cover the casserole dish and put in the oven to bake for 4 hours.
Remove carbonnade from the oven. Stir in salt and pepper and let stand on the stovetop.
Increase oven temperature to 400°F (200°C). Divide carbonnade among 6 individual baking dishes or ramekins, 1½ to 2 cups (375 to 500 mL) each. In a bowl, mix bread with garlic-oil mixture, salt, and pepper. Scatter bread cubes over top of each dish and sprinkle with cheese.
Bake just until the dish is bubbling hot and the cheese is melted. Serve sprinkled with parsley. Serve with Scotch ale or other dark beer.
Alfred le fermier is a firm, washed-rind Quebec cheese. Once topped with the cheese, the carbonnade can be covered and refrigerated for up to 1 day. Bring to room temperature before reheating in the oven.
Rutabaga, the big, yellow-fleshed turnip, appeals to both traditional Quebec cooks and adventurous chefs. Admitting that rutabagas “are not the most sexy vegetable,” Sophie Perreault of the Quebec Produce Marketing Association notes that 5 pounds (2.5 kg) costs the same as a box of chocolate chip cookies but can feed a family for days in soup or stew.
Bolster a comfort-food supper—pot-au-feu, minestrone, or chef-style ginger-accented soup—with cubes of rutabaga. Sophie suggests mixing rutabaga and potatoes for the mashed topping for a shepherd’s pie, and including chicken stock in the meat mixture to harmonize the flavours.
Chef Louis Rhéaume is a multi-talented Montreal chef who is a born teacher, whether on television cooking shows or at the Old Montreal cooking school Académie Culinaire. He likes to reduce the fat in traditional recipes and increase the vegetables. This easy and comforting, yet healthy, dish is a good example.
1 spaghetti squash
3/4 teaspoon (4 mL) salt, plus extra for sprinkling
Pinches freshly ground pepper
4 tablespoons (60 mL) olive oil, plus extra for coating
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 1/2 pounds (750 g) lean ground beef
1 teaspoon (5 mL) ground cumin, or more to taste
1 large sweet potato, peeled
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) ground nutmeg, or to taste
4 ounces (125 g) fresh spinach leaves
Chopped fresh thyme, for sprinkling
Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Line a baking pan with parchment paper.
Cut squash in half, scoop out seeds and filaments, and sprinkle liberally with pinches of salt and pepper. Place both halves cut side down in the prepared baking pan. Roast for 1 to 1½ hours, until tender to the fork but not mushy.
Meanwhile, in a large, heavy frying pan, heat 2 tablespoons (30 mL) of the oil over medium heat and sauté onion until softened, about 5 minutes. Add another 2 tablespoons (30 mL) oil to the pan and add beef, breaking it up with a fork. Cook until beef is browned. Season with ¾ teaspoon (4 mL) salt, some grindings of pepper, and cumin. Spread evenly in a 2-quart (2 L) baking pan.
Thinly slice sweet potato with a mandoline or very sharp knife. Sprinkle with pinches of salt and pepper and drizzle with enough oil to coat. Set aside.
When squash is cooked, hold each half over a bowl and, using a fork, scrape out flesh. (It will form threads.) Season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Arrange over meat in pan. Spread spinach leaves on top and sprinkle with thyme. Cover with sweet potato slices, overlapping them if necessary. Bake, uncovered, for 1 hour.
Menus in modest restaurants all over Quebec offer shepherd’s pie. Its French name is pâté chinois, which translates as “Chinese pie.” Why such a name for the layered combination of ground beef, corn, and mashed potatoes? For years, according to folklore, the recipe was believed to have come from a town in Maine called China. In fact, this was not the case. However, the pie was found in various places in New England, where between 1850 and 1930 thousands of French-Canadians, who had left Quebec in search of jobs, found work in textile, metal, and lumber mills. Nothing has been discovered to prove the pie’s origin, but it had, by the 1930s, become a favourite family recipe in Quebec. Montreal food historian Jean-Pierre Lemasson calls it “our glorious dish.”
But still, why “Chinese”? Researching the subject, Lemasson found puzzling details. A shepherd’s pie existed in Scotland, where it was made of lamb. But it had no corn, as found in the pie of North America. It is similar to a cottage pie that appeared in The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book (the first Fannie Farmer cookbook), published in 1896 in the United States, and containing layers of mashed potatoes and sliced or cubed beef. A 1935 cookbook from Deerfield, New Hampshire, had a Chinese pie, but made with peas, not corn. In Quebec, its meat was usually beef in the cities, a mixture of pork with other meats in the country.
In his 2009 book Le mystère insondable du pâté chinois, Lemasson speculates that what he called “the unsolved mystery” of the dish had something to do with the appliance used to mash potatoes, whether that was a ricer or the chef’s conical strainer called a chinois. The little town of China had only one Chinese-born resident, and the pie could not be found on New England menus. In a 1941 cookbook published by Montreal nuns of the order Soeurs des Saints Noms de Jésus et de Marie du Québec, the professor found a recipe for pâté chinois, but made with rice, rather than mashed potatoes, and with tomato sauce on top. Quebec’s bestselling cookbook La Cuisine raisonnée, first published in 1919 by nuns of the Congrégation de Notre-Dame, made no mention of the pie until its 1967 edition, when a meat pie, called pâté chinois, was included. Although the dish has been a basic in Quebec homes since the 1930s, Lemasson has decided its true origin and Chinese name are lost in time. To the professor, who enjoys it regularly, “Pâté chinois is a phantom.”
For as long as Quebecers have been trapping or raising game birds, they have been cooking them gently, moistened with stock or buried under beans or cabbage or other vegetables so these lean birds don’t dry out. Serge Caplette, a chef-teacher at the École hôtelière de Laval, likes to collect the family recipes of different regions of Quebec and refine them, as he has with this dish.
1 pound (500 g) great northern, cranberry, or pinto beans
1 1/2 teaspoons (7 mL) ground coriander
1 1/2 teaspoons (7 mL) dry mustard
1 teaspoon (5 mL) salt
Freshly ground pepper
1 cup (250 mL) finely chopped onions
1 medium onion, pierced with 2 cloves
1/2 cup (125 mL) molasses
1/2 pound (250 g) salt pork
3 wild partridges or Rock Cornish hens
In a large bowl or pot, soak beans at room temperature in enough cold water to cover them for at least 8 hours. Drain beans through a large strainer, rinse under cold running water, then transfer to a 4-quart (4 L) heavy, stovetop-safe casserole dish with a lid. Cover beans with fresh cold water and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer, covered and stirring occasionally, for 1 hour or until beans are becoming tender but are not mushy. Add more water during cooking if liquid reduces too much. Drain beans, then return them to the casserole dish.
Preheat the oven to 250°F (120°C).
Season beans with coriander, dry mustard, salt, pepper, chopped onions, whole onion, and molasses. Add water just to cover beans and bake, covered, for 3 hours.
Tie legs and wings of birds in place with kitchen string so they are easier to handle when cooked. Bury birds in beans, and continue baking, covered, for 1 hour. Then increase oven temperature to 325°F (160°C) and bake for another 1 to 1½ hours, to add colour to beans, checking the water level occasionally and adding more water if necessary to keep the beans covered.
When ready to serve, remove birds and cut into individual portions, ideally removing bones. Serve about half a bird, plus beans, per serving. Serve with maple syrup on the side, and a green salad.
Farm-raised partridges can be substituted for the wild partridges, though they have much less flavour than the wild birds.
When your restaurant is in the vicinity of Knowlton, home to a big duck farm, you are constantly challenged to create new, appealing ways to serve duck. Knowlton’s Restaurant Le St-Martin always has duck on the menu. Over the years, chefs may change but duck continues to be a specialty. Jean-Marc Faucheux, a French-born chef, cooks duck breasts, which are easy to buy throughout the province fresh or frozen, and then perks up the duck flavour with a balsamic vinegar and shallot sauce.
2 skin-on duck breasts (8 ounces/250 g each), skin scored
4 tablespoons (60 mL) cold butter, cut in 4 equal pieces
2 shallots, finely chopped
7 tablespoons (105 mL) balsamic vinegar
3/4 cup (175 mL) duck, veal, or chicken stock
Preheat the oven to 225°F (110°C).
In a large, heavy frying pan with no added fat, sear duck breasts skin side down over medium-high heat, for 4 minutes. (Their fat will add enough moisture to the pan.) Turn and sear the other side, for another 4 minutes. Transfer breasts to a plate and place in the oven. Wipe out pan with paper towels to remove any fat.
Add 1 tablespoon (15 mL) butter to the pan and sauté shallots over medium heat just until softened and lightly coloured, about 3 minutes. Add vinegar to deglaze pan, scraping up the brown bits from the bottom. Simmer until mixture is almost dry.
Add duck breasts and stock and cook for about 5 minutes, turning halfway through cooking time. Transfer duck to a cutting board and cover with aluminum foil.
Add remaining butter to pan juices 1 piece at a time, whisking vigorously to incorporate and thicken the mixture. Add more salt to taste. Continue to cook just until it has a sauce-like consistency.
Slice duck breasts thinly and spoon sauce over top.
Do not use magrets de canard, breasts of ducks force-fed to make foie gras.
In the season for lusty, warming food, France’s cassoulet is ideal. Its leading advocate in Quebec is a Carcassonne-born chef who has put the big dish of duck, sausages, and beans on the culinary map in northern Quebec and beyond. Daniel Pachon, chef-owner of Auberge Villa Pachon, in Jonquière, is so dedicated to this classic southern French dish, he has added a kitchen to his inn dedicated to cassoulet cooking and makes it in big quantities year-round to serve and to stock his freezer for orders from home cooks.
Each autumn, he and his wife, Carole Tremblay, load their van with big vats of the dish and head south to various points in Quebec where he stages cassoulet parties. These events attract chefs and food lovers, who enjoy spending convivial hours at table. I attended one such party at an apple orchard in Oka, just west of Montreal. Big casserole dishes of cassoulet lined the centre of the table so that we could help ourselves over and over, all the while sipping wine or sparkling cider as the chefs talked of their favourite cassoulet recipes. Daniel makes the Castelnaudary style of cassoulet, and likes to make his own Toulouse sausages for the dish. Duck confit (legs poached in duck fat, then browned) are essential, and the chef positions them standing up like sentinels in this rich stew of pork knuckles and a pork or ham shank, large white kidney beans (lingots in France), onions, and garlic.
Two other styles of the dish are part of the cassoulet tradition. The Carcassonne recipe contains a leg of mutton and maybe a partridge. The Toulouse version may have a goose along with Toulouse sausages. Daniel’s brother, André, a chef working in Japan, started a gastronomic society called the Académie Universelle du Cassoulet and invited his brother to join. You can visit www.academie-du-cassoulet.com for more information.
For a number of years, pork was the subject of a province-wide cooking contest for chefs. It was run by the Quebec Pork Producers Federation to encourage chefs to put the meat on restaurant menus. Denis Mareuge, chef at Boulangerie Owl’s Bread restaurant, in Mansonville, moistens lean Quebec pork by cooking it with both fruit and vegetables, including hot peppers.
2 pounds (1 kg) boneless pork shoulder, trimmed of fat, cut in 2-inch (5 cm) cubes
All-purpose flour, for dredging
3 to 4 tablespoons (45 to 60 mL) peanut or vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt
Freshly ground pepper
2 cooking apples, preferably Cortland, peeled, cored, and cubed
1 medium onion, diced
1 medium carrot, cubed
1 stalk celery, coarsely chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 red bell pepper, cubed
2 small Thai or habanero peppers, finely chopped, or 3/4 teaspoon (4 mL) sambal oelek
6 tablespoons (90 mL) maple syrup
4 tablespoons (60 mL) low-sodium soy sauce
1 to 2 cups (250 to 500 mL) water
3 tablespoons (45 mL) chopped fresh coriander
Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).
Dredge meat in flour, shaking off excess. In a large, heavy frying pan, heat a little oil over medium heat and brown meat on all sides, about 10 cubes at a time, so as not to overcrowd the pan. Transfer browned meat to a 3-quart (3 L) heavy, stovetop-safe casserole dish with a lid. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, stirring to mix.
In the same frying pan used to brown the meat, after heating a little more oil if necessary, cook apples, onion, carrot, celery, garlic, bell pepper, and Thai peppers, stirring often, just until softened. Add to the casserole dish.
Stir in maple syrup, soy sauce, and enough water to come halfway up the ingredients. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then cover and bake for 1½ hours.
Remove casserole from the oven. Add more salt and pepper to taste. If meat isn’t tender enough, bake for another 15 minutes.
Serve, sprinkled with coriander, with basmati rice or Chinese noodles mixed with steamed, slivered vegetables, such as carrots, celery, red onions, and bell peppers.
Wear rubber gloves when handling hot peppers.
If you dine in top Quebec restaurants, you may see a pork chop on the menu at a price as high as filet mignon, venison, and lobster. Pork is usually considered a down-home family meat and not a gastronomic treat, but Quebec’s Gaspor pork is changing public opinion in Quebec as well as in Ontario, New York, California, and even Japan. The meat comes from generously sized suckling pigs raised on a special diet. It’s like the best veal you have ever eaten but with more flavour, whether you choose such dishes as braised pork chops, flank, or belly, or roasted loin, shoulder, or rack. The source for this treat is the family-run St-Canut Farms, near Mirabel in the Laurentian Mountains, north of Montreal. It’s not the species of pig—the commonly raised Yorkshire-Landrace mixed breed—but the treatment the pigs receive that makes it “gastronomic pork”—the basis of the company name Gaspor.
Back in 2003, Alexandre Aubin and Carl Rousseau, both working on the Aubin family farm, decided to experiment with how they fed baby pigs and how large they grew the animals. Tiny piglets, known in French as cochonnets or porcelets, had been made into roast suckling pig for generations. One day, Ste-Adèle chef Anne Desjardins went on a tour of the farm. Seeing the little pigs, she said, “We don’t have this meat any more.” That comment, Alexandre remembers, set into motion a three-year experiment to improve the product, which, they recognized, was tender but lacked flavour and had a gelatinous texture. Putting their agricultural science training to work, they invented a diet of powdered milk, sugar, and vanilla, plus iron powder to turn the meat pink, and ran trials to figure out how large to grow the young pigs. The result was animals that made good-sized cuts for their various recipes, said chefs, including Normand Laprise of Montreal’s celebrated restaurant Toqué! and Daniel Vézina of Laurie Raphaël in Quebec City and Montreal. The chefs take it from there. As Alexandre puts it, “I give the colours to the artist, and the chef paints the painting.”
Rougemont is in the heart of apple country, southeast of Montreal, so it’s natural that Louis Tremblay, chef at Les Quatre Feuilles, a restaurant tucked into an apple orchard and sugar maple grove, adds apples and an Asian tang to this fast and easy chicken dish. You don’t always need chicken stock to make a sauce for chicken, he proves with his mixture of apple juice and soy sauce.
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut in half lengthwise
All-purpose flour, for dredging
2 tablespoons (30 mL) butter
2 tablespoons (30 mL) sunflower oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
8 ounces (250 g) mushrooms, thinly sliced
2 firm apples, such as Cortland, Empire, or Spartan, peeled, cored, and quartered
1 tablespoon (15 mL) cornstarch
2 cups (500 mL) apple juice
1 tablespoon (15 mL) soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt
Freshly ground pepper
Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).
Dredge chicken in flour, shaking off excess. In a heavy, ovenproof frying pan, heat butter and oil over medium heat. Add chicken and brown on all sides. Transfer the pan to the oven and bake chicken for 15 minutes or until juices run clear. Transfer to a plate and keep warm.
In the same frying pan, cook onion, mushrooms, and apples, turning until golden, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer apple quarters to the plate with chicken and keep warm.
Stir cornstarch with enough apple juice to form a thin paste. Add to the pan of mushrooms and onion, along with remaining apple juice and soy sauce, and bring to a boil, stirring until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Divide chicken among 4 warmed plates and drizzle with sauce. Arrange apples around chicken. Serve with rice and steamed vegetables.
The fruit scientist was checking apple varieties to crossbreed for growers who want fruit that resists disease and stores well. Suddenly he noticed that the flesh of a newly developed apple he had cut apart was staying crisp and white.
An apple that doesn’t need a drizzling of lemon juice to stop it from going brown is a find, according to Shahrokh Khanizadeh, a veteran Agriculture and Agri-Food Canada fruit breeder whose new breeds, which include 36 varieties of apples, strawberries, and raspberries, have changed the fresh fruit scene in Quebec.
“A half-hour later, I noticed that it stayed white … I couldn’t believe it,” he says. So he cut into another variety of apple and kept an eye on both in his office at the St-Jean-sur-Richelieu research centre where he worked. Two days later, the first apple still looked freshly cut, whereas the flesh of the second had turned brown and wrinkled.
Colleagues helped name his non-browning apple after the fruit of the Garden of Eden, and the Eden apple has tantalized the food industry ever since news about it leaked out after that day in 2000. Originally developed for makers of apple juice and cider because it didn’t fall readily from the tree, it’s being grown by prize-winning ice cider–maker François Pouliot at his La Face Cachée de la Pomme ice cider company south of Montreal, in Hemmingford. The advantage is that these apples hang on the tree until midwinter, so the cold concentrates their flavour.
Processors would profit from the Eden because of its non-browning characteristic. They could use it for sliced apples, pie filling, and apple chips, while restaurants see its advantage for making fruit cups that keep their fresh look. So why is Eden slow to reach the market?
Government bureaucracy, answers Shahrokh, describing a jungle of red tape that follows invention. A new variety of fruit needs a patent and certain clearances before growers can obtain the trees. American fruit scientists are working on developing a non-browning apple, says the scientist, who was born in Iran, educated at Tehran and McGill universities, and has worked cooperatively with counterparts in the United States, Europe, and China. He finds the world of fruit development “very, very competitive.” This type of food science is not genetic modification but the old-fashioned method of arranged marriages called crossbreeding.
Other apples that he has developed have sold well, including the Diva, another tree-clinging variety used by cider prize-winner Robert Demoy at his Cidrerie du Minot at Hemmingford. Three other of his apple varieties, all scab-resistant, are widely grown in Quebec—Belmac and Primavera, both red, late-season varieties, and SuperMac, a firmer, longer-storing McIntosh derivative.
Fruit scientist Shahrokh Khanizadeh has developed many varieties of apples, strawberries, and raspberries.
When the early autumn sun ripens sweet and hot peppers, Marisa Birri makes this hot pepper condiment she calls “bomba.” She has a full range of peppers available to her, as her husband, Lino, grows them in Laval and on Montreal’s South Shore and sells them, along with his other crops, at a big stall at Montreal’s Jean-Talon Market. She likes to cook the paste in a wok and include the pepper seeds. You can lower the heat by discarding the seeds and upping the quantity of sweet peppers. Use the spread on sandwiches, or for pasta and rice, and to accent grilled meats and fish.
1 or 2 jalapeño peppers
5 sweet cherry peppers
5 red bell peppers
5 green poblano or Anaheim peppers
1 serrano pepper, or more to taste
4 tablespoons (60 mL) vegetable oil, plus more as needed
5 cloves garlic, chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 bunch fresh coriander, including stems, chopped
Cut jalapeño peppers in half lengthwise; do not remove seeds. Chop. Trim away stems and interior membranes and discard seeds from all the other peppers, then coarsely chop.
In a large, heavy, stovetop-safe casserole dish, heat oil over medium heat and sauté garlic for 2 minutes. Add the jalapeño, sweet cherry, red bell, and poblano peppers and sauté just until they begin to become tender. Reduce heat to low and add some of the serrano pepper to taste. Continue cooking very gently, uncovered and stirring occasionally, for 45 minutes, until mixture has blended into a thick sauce; if it starts to dry out, add a little more oil. About halfway, taste and add more serrano, if desired. Stir almost constantly at the end of cooking time.
Add coriander and remove the casserole dish from heat. Pour sauce into a food processor (in 2 batches, if necessary) and pulse briefly just until mixture is combined but not completely smooth and still has texture. Store in clean, lidded jars in the refrigerator for up to a month. Do not freeze.
The poblano pepper is large and heart-shaped, mildly hot, brown when dried to make an ancho or mulato, smoked and dried to become a chipotle. The Anaheim pepper is a mild chili pepper. The serrano pepper is another chili pepper, hotter than the jalapeño. Be sure to wear rubber gloves when handling hot peppers.
Walking through Michael Rossy’s market garden in the Laurentians is an experience. He prides himself on producing what he calls “entertainment vegetables,” and my first sight of his patch of kale was certainly entertaining. This dark green leafy plant with a frizzy look to its leaves also comes in black, and I mean black. His favourite varieties of kale are Siberian and Russian Rainbow. Dandelion greens flourish, and Swiss chard brightens up his garden with five colours of stems: red, orange, yellow, fuchsia, and white.
Rossy, whose property near Arundel is called Runaway Creek Farm, is working to put kale on our plates. Start with salad, he suggests. Chop the leaves in bite-size pieces and put in a salad bowl; season with salt and pepper. Then work in a ripe avocado, tossing or pressing with your hands until it is mixed in. Make a dressing of lemon juice and soy sauce and toss with the salad. Final additions: thin slices of onion, and toasted sunflower seeds or sliced almonds or dried cranberries.
A vegetable both nutritious and fashionable, chard is a bitter green that originated in Sicily and is used throughout the Middle East. If it’s young, make a salad of it as you would with spinach. Mature chard benefits from the creamy treatment given in this recipe from Chef Geneviève Longère. She grows chard in her garden in St-Alexis-de-Montcalm, northeast of Montreal.
1 1/4 pounds (625 g) Swiss chard
2 cups (500 mL) whipping cream
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Freshly grated nutmeg
Remove stems and spines of Swiss chard and slice into 1-inch (2.5 cm) pieces. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, with 1 tablespoon (15 mL) salt added for every 4 cups (1 L) water. Cook stems and spines just until tender. About 3 minutes before they are done, add leaves and cook for 3 minutes. Drain and cool stems and leaves in cold water, then drain well.
Spread Swiss chard on a baking sheet lined with paper towels or a tea towel and cover with more towels.
In a large, heavy saucepan over medium heat, heat cream to simmering (180°F/82°C) and cook without boiling until it thickens enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon. Remove from heat and set aside. Just before serving, press any remaining liquid out of Swiss chard. Chop leaves and stems coarsely.
Reheat cream, add Swiss chard and warm, stirring often. Season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Serve at once.
The Swiss chard can be cooked and drained up to 1 day in advance, then covered and refrigerated until ready to use.
Jane Livingston, an Eastern Townships caterer, likes to give familiar vegetables a bit of class by roasting them with herbs, then making them into a vegetarian quiche. You can vary the variety you choose, says Jane, who named her catering business after her home, East Hill Farm, near Knowlton. Yogurt and cheese enrich this combination, as does the all-butter pastry.
Fall vegetables of your choice (carrots, sweet potatoes, onions, zucchini, parsnips), about 4 cups (1 L) when sliced (see directions)
3 tablespoons (45 mL) olive oil
1 tablespoon (15 mL) fresh thyme leaves
1 tablespoon (15 mL) fresh rosemary leaves
Salt and freshly ground pepper
4 eggs
1/2 cup (125 mL) plain yogurt or whole milk
3/4 cup (175 mL) shredded aged cheddar cheese
1 deep-dish ready-made frozen pie shell (optional)
Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Oil a baking pan large enough to hold vegetables.
Cut onions, if using, into 8 pieces each. Peel and slice remaining vegetables so they are approximately the same size. In a large bowl, toss vegetables with oil to coat well. Season with thyme, rosemary, and generous pinches of salt and pepper.
Place vegetables in the prepared pan. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 15 minutes. Remove foil, stir vegetables, reduce the oven temperature to 350°F (180°C), and roast, uncovered and stirring occasionally, for another 20 minutes.
In the same large bowl, beat eggs with yogurt. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in ¼ cup (60 mL) of the cheese. Add vegetables, mix well, and pour into frozen pie shell, spreading mixture out evenly. Sprinkle with remaining cheese and bake for 30 to 40 minutes, until centre doesn’t jiggle when the pan is gently shaken.
The pie shell is optional. The vegetables can also be cooked in a baking dish.
Choose your favourite pork when making this dish, suggests Peggy Regan, a Montreal baker of Irish-Scottish background. Her recipe calls for the Italian pancetta, but she also suggests “frying pork” if in the Gaspé, scrunchions if in Newfoundland, or thick-cut farm bacon if in Ontario.
1 pound (500 g) Brussels sprouts, trimmed
1/2 pound (250 g) pancetta (4 thick slices)
Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).
Drop Brussels sprouts into a large pot of boiling salted water and boil for 8 minutes. Drain, rinse under cold running water, and drain again.
Place blanched sprouts in a baking dish just large enough to hold them in a single layer. Cover with pancetta slices, draping them over sprouts. Bake until tender, 20 to 25 minutes, depending on the size of the sprouts.
Alternatively, use a large, heavy frying pan. Fry pancetta until golden and beginning to crisp up. Toss in the blanched Brussels sprouts, crowding them in with bits of pork resting on top, and transfer the pan to the oven to finish cooking sprouts.
Serve with beef, pork, or poultry.
Veteran chef Marcel Kretz of Val-David, in the Laurentians, designed this recipe when he was commissioned by a major soup company to develop dishes inspired by early Quebec cuisine. This one uses vegetable stock to liven up winter roots. You can vary the vegetables; I add 2 cups (500 mL) cubed parsnips. Marcel, Alsatian-born and one of only a few Canadian chefs to have been honoured with the Order of Canada, spent much of his career leading Canadian and Quebec teams of chefs in international culinary competitions.
2 cups (500 mL) cubed celery root
2 cups (500 mL) cubed carrots
2 cups (500 mL) cubed parsnips
2 cups (500 mL) cubed peeled rutabaga
1 cup (250 mL) cubed peeled potatoes
2 cups (500 mL) vegetable or chicken stock
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons (30 mL) chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, green onions, or chives
Cheese crumb crust
2 tablespoons (30 mL) butter
1 1/2 cups (375 mL) finely cubed French bread, crust included
1 1/2 cups (375 mL) coarsely shredded cheddar cheese or crumbled goat or blue cheese
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) ground nutmeg
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Place celery root, carrots, parsnips, rutabaga, and potatoes in a large saucepan. Add stock. Cover and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to very low. Simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for about 1 hour. Stock should be absorbed by the vegetables; if not, uncover and continue to simmer, stirring often, until stock is absorbed. Mash vegetables with a hand-held masher. Season with salt and pepper.
For the cheese crumb crust, melt butter in a medium frying pan over medium heat. Add bread cubes and stir until crisp and lightly browned. Cool and stir in cheese and nutmeg.
Spread vegetables in a shallow, buttered casserole or baking dish. Top with cheese crumb mixture.
To serve right away, preheat the broiler, then place the casserole on a rack in the middle of the oven for a few minutes, just until lightly browned. Serve sprinkled with parsley. To serve after dish has been refrigerated, place in a preheated 350°F (180°C) oven until hot, 25 to 35 minutes, then set under the broiler to brown crust.
Once topped with cheese crumb mixture, the casserole can be covered and refrigerated overnight. Bring to room temperature before final cooking.
Carrots, a mainstay vegetable when Quebec weather cools off, become refreshingly new with added spice and fresh herbs. Gigi Cohen, who runs the vegetarian restaurant Café Juicy Lotus in Montreal’s Notre-Dame-de-Grâce district, uses a mix of international flavours in her dressing for cooked, cooled carrots. She considers this recipe Moroccan inspired. Use mature carrots; baby or “baby-cut” carrots do not have full flavour when cooked.
2 pounds (1 kg) carrots, peeled and cut in 1/4-inch (5 mm) slices
1/3 cup (75 mL) olive oil
1/4 cup (60 mL) fresh lime juice or lemon juice
2 tablespoons (30 mL) cider vinegar
1 tablespoon (15 mL) ground cumin
1 tablespoon (15 mL) paprika
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) sea salt
Pinch cayenne pepper
Pinch cardamom
1 medium ripe tomato, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 cup (250 mL) lightly packed flat-leaf parsley leaves
1 cup (250 mL) lightly packed coriander leaves
1 red bell pepper, finely chopped
Bring carrots to a boil in a medium saucepan of salted water. Reduce heat to low and simmer, covered, just until carrots are tender, about 20 minutes. Drain, transfer to a salad bowl, and let cool to room temperature.
Meanwhile, for dressing, whisk together oil, lime juice, vinegar, cumin, paprika, salt, cayenne, and cardamom in a bowl. Pour dressing over carrots, turning them to coat. Let stand for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, in a blender or food processor, process tomato, garlic, parsley, coriander, and bell pepper just until roughly mixed; do not purée. Just before serving, toss with the carrots.
Chef Yves Moreau of the Hôtel Forestel in Val-d’Or makes this delectable sauce with Quebec’s favourite syrup. It’s outstanding on roast pork, ham, and chicken, as well as on desserts such as poached pears or vanilla ice cream. Make a batch and refrigerate it so it’s ready for when you suddenly need something special to liven up a simple meal.
1 2/3 cups (400 mL) pure maple syrup
2/3 cup (150 mL) pineapple juice
2/3 cup (150 mL) apple juice
2 star anise
1 cinnamon stick
8 whole cloves
Slices fresh gingerroot, green cardamom pods, or black peppercorns (optional)
In a deep saucepan over medium heat, cook maple syrup, pineapple and apple juices, star anise, cinnamon stick, cloves, and gingerroot (if using) until mixture has thickened and reduced by one-third. Cool at room temperature. Strain through a sieve and discard spices, then bottle.
Stored in the refrigerator, it will last for several months.
When Quebec farms always kept chickens and had a continual supply of fresh eggs, this lightly spiced dessert was not the luxury dish it appears to be today. Chef Serge Caplette, who comes from the region of Sorel-Tracy, where the St. Lawrence and Richelieu Rivers meet, remembers his grandmother making this pie. Now a chef-teacher at École hôtelière de Laval, he specializes in regional dishes and considers this pie a basic in the Richelieu River Valley. Fresh eggs and the combination of nutmeg and orange liven up the flavour.
2 cups (500 mL) milk
4 eggs
3/4 cup (175 mL) granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) ground nutmeg, plus extra for sprinkling
Pinch salt
Grated peel of 1 medium orange
Pastry for single-crust, 8-inch (20 cm) pie
Place the oven rack in the lowest position, then place a pizza stone or a cast-iron frying pan upside down on it. Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C).
In a medium saucepan, heat milk almost to the boiling point.
In a mixing bowl, whip eggs and sugar together using a wire whisk. Whisk in nutmeg, salt, and orange peel. Set aside.
Butter an 8-inch (20 cm) pie pan. Roll out pastry on a floured surface and fit it into the pan. Crimp the edges; do not prick the bottom with a fork. Cover with aluminum foil and weigh down with dried peas or beans.
Set pie shell on the pizza stone for 6 minutes, then remove from the oven and remove foil and peas. Return pie crust to the oven for another 4 minutes, then remove and let cool completely on a rack.
Reduce the oven temperature to 400°F (200°C). Pour egg mixture into cooled pie shell, sprinkle with nutmeg, and bake for 15 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 350°F (180°C) and bake for another 30 minutes or until a sharp knife inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool completely before serving.
Chef Serge Caplette wanted to show off a traditional Quebec recipe at a Montreal conference of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Every Quebec family cook has their own version. This one came from his family and is tried and true.
Pastry for single-crust, 9-inch (23 cm) pie (page 336)
2 tablespoons (30 mL) butter, or more to taste
5 cooking apples, preferably Cortland, Golden Delicious, or Granny Smith, peeled, cored, and cut in 1-inch (2.5 cm) pieces
1 tablespoon (15 mL) granulated sugar
Pinch ground cinnamon
1/2 cup (125 mL) packed brown sugar
2 2/3 cups (650 mL) old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup (125 mL) butter, cut in small pieces and softened
Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). Roll out pastry on a floured surface to fit a 9-inch (23 cm) pie pan. Fit in pan, crimping the edges.
In a large, heavy frying pan, melt butter over medium heat and cook apples, turning to sauté on all sides, just until golden and caramelized. Combine granulated sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over apples. Transfer to pie shell.
In a bowl, mix together brown sugar and oats, then add butter and mix into oat mixture with your fingers. Spread oat topping over apples in pie shell.
Bake for 25 minutes or until topping is crisp and lightly browned. Cool on a rack to room temperature before serving.
When historian Paul-Louis Martin realized that the property he’d acquired in the lower St. Lawrence valley was home to plum trees transplanted from France in the 1620s, he made an ambitious plan. Already restoring the handsome 1840 manor house on his land near St-André-de-Kamouraska, he decided to add to the 100 trees that had been planted by 17th-century settlers and were still growing in an orchard that once numbered some 800 trees. That was in 1973, and the result, thriving today, is called Maison de la Prune (home of the plum) and Martin and his family look after 900 trees in a microclimate formed in the shelter of a hillside near the great river.
Each September, when the plums begin ripening, Martin’s wife, Marie de Blois, starts making jam, jelly, and other preserves, which the family sells in an elegant shop on the main floor of their 24-room clapboard house (see her recipe on page 290). The building was erected originally on seigneurial land by Sifroy Guéret dit Dumont as a combination house and store. Dumont was a prosperous merchant, and his family became known for their butter business. His handsome, wood-panelled shop now has shelves crowded with jars of preserves made by the Martin family from Damas plums, ancestor of the damson, both the red and yellow variety, and Lombard plums. You can also buy Martin’s books in French; they cover the history of such subjects as the fruit of Quebec, Quebec architecture, and early Quebec gardens.
On Sundays if not too busy, family members—Martin, retired from a career as cultural historian at the Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières, his wife, and their son, Charles, and daughter, Julie—will escort visitors on a tour of the orchard, where apple and cherry trees grow alongside the plums. Historian Martin is proud of his orchard but likes to inform visitors it’s a microcosm compared with that of 1900, when 250,000 plum trees flourished on both sides of the St. Lawrence.
The perfect plum for this easy dessert is the Damas, a small red cousin of the damson plum, grown at the restored plum orchard at St-André-de-Kamouraska, in the Lower St. Lawrence. Co-owner Marie de Blois likes to accent her plums with walnuts. If you use large plums, cut in quarters before placing in the cake pan. Whipped cream, plain yogurt, or vanilla ice cream provides a refreshing accent to this dessert.
1/2 cup (125 mL) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup (125 mL) firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup (125 mL) whole or halved walnuts or other nuts of your choice
2 cups (500 mL) whole plums, cut in half and pitted
1 cup (250 mL) all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons (7 mL) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt
2/3 cup (150 mL) granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) vanilla extract
1 egg
1/2 cup (125 mL) milk
Place the oven rack in the middle position. Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).
Place ¼ cup (60 mL) of the butter in a round 10-inch (25 cm) cake pan. Place the pan in the preheating oven until butter is melted, about 30 seconds. Tilt the pan to spread butter evenly over the bottom. Sprinkle brown sugar and then nuts evenly over melted butter. Place plums on sugar mixture cut side down.
In a small bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder, and salt. In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream the remaining ¼ cup (60 mL) butter with sugar until light and fluffy. Then add vanilla and egg, beating until well blended. Beat in flour mixture alternately with milk to make a smooth batter. Spoon batter over plums and smooth out.
Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean. Remove cake to a rack and let cool for 5 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of pan, then invert cake, fruit side up, onto a serving plate. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Maple sugar, growing in popularity, tops this classic cheesecake, which is sweetened with maple syrup. The recipe is from Jane Livingston, a talented cook who has created a business selling the specialties she makes in her East Hill Farm kitchen near Knowlton.
Crust
1 1/2 cups (375 mL) graham cracker crumbs
1/4 cup (60 mL) maple syrup
1/3 cup (75 mL) melted butter
Filling
2 8-ounce (250 g) packages plain cream cheese (2 cups/500 mL), at room temperature
3/4 cup (175 mL) maple syrup
1/3 cup (75 mL) whipping cream
1 teaspoon (5 mL) vanilla extract
4 eggs
3 tablespoons (45 mL) all-purpose flour
Coarse maple sugar or brown sugar, for sprinkling
Place the oven rack in the middle position. Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C). Line a 10-inch (25 cm) springform pan with parchment paper.
In a mixing bowl, thoroughly combine cracker crumbs, maple syrup, and melted butter.
Spread crumb mixture evenly on bottom of prepared springform pan, pressing it down with the bottom of a glass. Bake for 12 minutes or until firm. Cool on a rack.
In a mixing bowl, beat together cheese and maple syrup until soft and well blended. Beat in cream and vanilla, then beat in eggs, one by one, until well mixed. Sprinkle with flour and blend in. Pour mixture into prepared crust.
Bake cheesecake for 20 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 300°F (150°C) and bake for another 20 to 25 minutes. The cheesecake surface should jiggle when gently shaken.
Turn off the oven, open the oven door, and leave cheesecake in the oven until it has cooled completely or is cool enough to pick up with your bare hands.
To serve, unmould onto a serving plate and sprinkle maple sugar over top.
Maple syrup sells in three grades, based on its colour. Light (“clair”) is syrup from early in the season, medium comes next, and dark (“ambre”) is from the final days of the harvest. A “flavour wheel” designed by the maple industry and federal scientists describes six levels of taste, from light (compared to a marshmallow) to dark (black licorice). Belgian chef Pierre Résimont, who experimented with maple syrup when cooking for the Federation of Quebec Maple Syrup Producers, compared its flavour to vanilla with spices. Sherbrooke chef Danny St-Pierre uses all three grades of maple syrup in his cuisine. The light grade, usually served on breakfast pancakes, he makes into a marinade for fish fillets. Medium grade he uses to flavour sauces and vinaigrettes, and dark in a sweet-and-sour tomato sauce for veal shanks, or to make a creamy dessert. For variations on maple throughout Quebec, meet members of the Maple Gourmet Road, big users of the sweetener listed at creatifsdelerable.ca. These enterprises—restaurants and bakeries, confectioners and caterers, pastry shops and candymakers—guarantee that they will make and sell maple-flavoured treats year-round.
When the Soares family of Montreal gets together for a meal, they often wind up with Portuguese rice pudding—smooth, creamy, and lightly flavoured with lemon and cinnamon. Fatima Soares Mesquita, manager of Soares et Fils, the Portuguese grocery store in the Plateau neighbourhood of central Montreal, traces her recipe to her grandmother in Caldas da Rainha. It’s an easy recipe to make, even for beginners, but you need the right rice. While it’s sold at most grocery stores, to get in the mood for a Portuguese classic, you could shop at Soares, founded in 1966 by Fatima’s grandfather Julio, after he immigrated from Peniche, on the coast north of Lisbon.
1 cup (250 mL) arborio or other short-grain rice, rinsed
3 cups (750 mL) cold water
1 strip lemon peel
1 cinnamon stick
1/4 teaspoon (1 mL) salt
1 cup (250 mL) whole milk
1 cup (250 mL) granulated sugar
Ground cinnamon, for sprinkling
In a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine rice, water, lemon peel, cinnamon stick, and salt. Set over medium-low heat and simmer, uncovered and stirring often, until rice absorbs the water, about 20 to 25 minutes.
Stir in milk and sugar and cook, stirring constantly, for another 5 minutes. Remove lemon peel and cinnamon stick.
Spoon into 4 individual serving dishes or 1 large bowl. Serve warm, or refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours. Sprinkle with ground cinnamon just before serving.
Aboard listing the cheese bargains of the week entices you into Fromagerie Atwater, but there’s little indication that, after passing through a little grocery store and descending a staircase, you have arrived at a Montreal headquarters for cheese lovers. The city has other well-stocked cheese shops, but this one, cramped and jammed with products, with no décor or fancy display, is at the heart of Quebec’s love affair with cheese.
Many a day, a wiry man in a French beret appears behind the long counter, ready to sell you any of his 850 cheeses. Gilles Jourdenais is the owner and a moving force behind the boom in Quebec cheesemaking and selling. Party givers in the know consult him about the latest and best cheeses to serve. And, when Quebec cheesemakers are considering making a new cheese or wondering about trends in their sales, they call Gilles.
“We’re the front line,” he says. And tastemakers, he admits. That’s because he and his staff talk up their cheese, in particular their 250 Quebec varieties.
Cheese shoppers, in Jourdenais’s experience, usually want three varieties: a soft cheese, a semi-soft, and either a hard cheese such as cheddar, or a blue, or maybe a goat cheese. And often something new.
Not long ago, a hefty number of Quebec cheeses were semi-soft. “We must have 75 kinds at a time, and many are bestsellers, such as Le 1608,” says Gilles. There was a sameness to these products because Quebec cheesemakers, who all learned from French teachers, found semi-soft cheeses easiest to make and sell. So, when consulted, the merchant started suggesting they make something different. Among the results were Maurice Dufour’s Ciel de Charlevoix, a blue that has won prizes, and Laracam, a soft, washed-rind cheese like the French Reblochon, from Fromagerie du Champ à la Meule.
It’s a different world since Gilles started selling food 35 years ago, working in his father’s little grocery store on the same spot where he now operates his principal shop. That store stocked about two dozen cheeses, only two of them from Quebec—the semi-soft Oka and Ermite, a blue cheese. There are so many Quebec cheeses today, Gilles helped one of his staff, Amélie Tendland, write a guidebook to 100 of them. And he is in constant contact with cheesemakers, refiners, importers, and marketers, keeping up with all matters new in the world of cheese.
His bestselling Quebec varieties? Le 1608, Victor et Berthold, 14 Arpents, Bleu d’Élizabeth, Le Riopelle, and Chèvre Noir.
