nom nom foody.

Pesto is really easy to make if you have a food processor and a spare half-hour. We get our pine nuts in the nut aisle, or from the bulk section. The fresh basil we get is often in little pots meant to be cultivated for later, though now that the fall is approaching I'm not sure how long they'll last.

Ingredients:
1 + 1/2 cups fresh basil leaves
1/4 cup pine nuts
one large clove of garlic
sea salt
pepper
olive oil

Assembly:
Take a small frying pan and turn heat to low-medium. Toss the pine nuts in the pan and use a bit of olive oil to coat the nuts, just enough that the nuts are lubricated. Season with sea salt and pepper. Gently stir occasionally, until nuts turn golden-brown.

Rinse basil in a colander, then take some paper towels and pat down any excess water from the leaves. Toss basil, pine nuts, and garlic into food processor, and blend. Until the pesto reaches a creamy consistency, add small amounts of olive oil.

Use sparingly! (I'm talking about that phrase - a little goes a long way.) This should be good for at least four servings of linguine pasta - I suggest serving this with shrimp to round out your meal. If you're saving this for later, you can cover the pesto with olive oil to prevent oxidization.

note: for my relatively small audience, do you have any suggestions, questions or other topics for my next blog entry? Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know. :)

These are restaurants that you dream about for years to come.

Japanese izakayas are traditionally little drinking houses which offer substantially better food than your local bar. If you're lucky enough to have one in your neighbourhood, please take a night to give it a try - izakayas have an atmosphere like no other restaurant. Back when I was still living in Vancouver and working until eleven in the evening, my work friends and I would look for a place to wind down and eat. Guu, a hideaway Japanese izakaya in downtown Vancouver, was one of them.

For those that get the chance to visit Vancouver (or already have the privilege of living there!), I highly recommend Guu. This little izakaya is tucked away on the corner of Robson and Thurlow Street (also home to the Starbucks coffee houses which face kitty-corner to each other). The exterior looks surprisingly unpromising; inside, however, is a friendly, casual atmosphere with tasty food that won't break your wallet. Guu is a restaurant that we have on our must-visit list whenever we're able to visit Vancouver. Try out their Calpico soda and kimchi fried rice!

On the east coast, our izakaya cravings have been appeased by the discovery of Yakitori Boy. A restaurant located on the outskirts of Chinatown in downtown Philadelphia, they also have a sushi bar for those who are adventuring into Japanese food. Their upstairs level promises karaoke, with the option of embarrassing yourself with your friends in a private room.


The restaurant's specialty - yakitori! - came out piping hot and delicious. I had read reviews that had stated otherwise, but each bite was wonderful. They have selections such as squid, chicken, asparagus, and other meats and vegetables, and the staff is more than understanding if you have a higher-than-normal squick factor. I took the more risky move of ordering smelt and chicken liver, while Ben decided to have quail egg wrapped in bacon. Smelt is rare to find in Philadelphia, so I'm extremely pleased to have found somewhere that makes it - and prepared well, too!

We also tried their sushi bar - one of their off-menu specials was a sushi roll with black pepper seared tuna and avocado, topped with salmon, yellowtail, tempura flakes, and four different kinds of caviar. Each bite was a subtle explosion of textures and flavours. That was accompanied by a spider roll (soft-shell crab and avocado, topped with scallion and spicy mayonnaise) and an avocado salad. While we didn't explore their drinks menu too thoroughly, I had an iced green tea which was smoky and refreshing.

If you're ever in the area, I highly recommend that you stop by and give it a go. I know this is a place that I'll be taking my friends to, if they ever get the urge to sing a few songs!

Guu Thurlow
838 Thurlow Street
Vancouver B.C. V6E 1W2

Yakitori Boy
211 North 11th Street
Philadelphia, PA 19107

In the lunar calendar, the fifteenth day of the eighth month is known as the Mid-Autumn Festival. Every year, the festival celebrates the harvest on the night that the moon is brightest and fullest. Traditionally, mooncake and pomelos are eaten with friends and family in order to encourage closeness and protection.

Mooncake is an extremely dense, sweet pastry. It's generally made about the size of your palm and is a very sturdy dessert. The traditional mooncake is made of lotus seed paste with a salted egg yolk in the centre to symbolize the full moon; the crust is stamped with Chinese characters for longevity, fortune, and other happy things. Growing up, I used to pick out the egg yolk, much to my mother's exasperation - nowadays, not only do mooncakes come in regular lotus seed paste sans yolk, it also comes in fillings such as red bean paste, green tea, and peanut.


Last night, after a gorgeous sunset, we lit our lanterns and sat on the deck for awhile to watch the moon. No pomelos, but we stuffed ourselves with mooncake and had a good time. (Okay, I might be feeling a little queasy from all that dessert, but it was so good.)

Leeks are odd vegetables.

The first time I ever saw a leek, I was in a grocery store trying to decide if I wanted broccoli or brussel sprouts for dinner. My first thought was, Is that a mutant green onion or what?

Ben suggested that we bring one home. I threatened to call it Teeny Leeky. He bought it anyway. It sat in our crisper for days, taunting me whenever I opened the fridge. Finally, on the verges of wilting into the vegetable underworld, it shook its various green arms at me and pointed out that today was a good day to cook.

That's how I came up with this recipe - because it was a stormy spring day, and I knew that if I was working at the time, this was what I wanted to come home to. Things happen when you have a rebellious leek in your fridge and a lot of time on your hands.

notes: this is a vegetarian-friendly recipe - that's because I live with two, and us meat-eating heathens like to keep the peace every once in awhile. For those who are inclined, you can add a cup of diced ham or salty pork.

Feel free to pre-soak the split peas about two to four hours beforehand. I can't stress enough that you should rinse the split peas thoroughly in a colander before you cook with them, even if they've been pre-washed. The only time we didn't do this, we were chewing through sand and grit - not fun!

Ingredients:
12-16 ounces of dried split peas
four cloves of garlic, peeled and smushed into pieces
one leek, sliced (about two cups depending on the size)
one stalk of green onion, sliced
four small red potatoes, sliced and diced (about a cup)
two carrots, sliced (about a cup)
1/4 cup red onion
4 cups vegetable broth
4 cups water (filtered, preferably - I'm a snob, I know)
about 4 tablespoons of olive oil
fresh thyme and rosemary
sea salt and pepper (go insane!)


Assembly:

In a decent-sized soup pot, lightly saute the onion and garlic until soft. Add the vegetable broth and split peas, and bring to a boil. Keep it lightly simmering for a half-hour or until your split peas are tender (but not mushy) - if you haven't chopped up the other vegetables at this time, go ahead and do that now. Chop chop!

Add the water, potatoes, carrots, green onion and leek to the soup. De-stalk your rosemary and thyme, and add that to the soup along with the sea salt and pepper. Allow the soup to simmer quietly for another half-hour, or until your split peas are soft. Serve with a cozy blanket and a crust of French bread. Enjoy!

A few Decembers ago, I received a box of Vosges exotic truffles as a gift, and promptly fell in love.

Each truffle was a strange and explosive combination. Curry powder and coconut. Ginger, wasabi and black sesame. Macadamia nut and Cointreau. The card that came with the box suggested that the chocolates be consumed within ten days, but I wanted to savour each truffle to the very last moment. I prioritised the truffles from worst to best (as if that was an easy list to make) and let them melt on my tongue as I studied for college exams. Those truffles have periodically haunted me since then, even after graduation and after I stopped living on a student budget.

The other day, I was at DiBruno Brothers in the city when I saw a familiar name on one of their shelves: Vosges. My heart sang.


The price took me by surprise, but I had enough change to pick up the Macha Bar, and it is worth every penny. Their Macha Bar is a distinctive blend of two chocolate varietals and green tea. The first taste is subtle, and then the flavours begin to layer on top of each other. When you reach the end, the smoky finish makes your toes curl.

For anyone who is looking to explore their sweet tooth, this will knock you off your feet and cause your hands to tap-dance, and after the very last bite you will want more. I know I do!

If you've stumbled across this, it's because you know me through some medium, Google is your friend, or you're just plain lost. Regardless, welcome to Nom Nom Foody.

I've been thinking about this journal for some time, not only because I needed a way to flex my dormant writing skills, but also because I wanted to share the great love and respect that I have for food. In this day and age where pre-packaged convenience dinners are mainstream, it's hard to remember that food is more than a way of survival. Food is a reason for friends to get together, and a medium of relaxation; it is also an outlet of happiness, a focus of celebration, and a great indulgence.

Wherever you are, I hope you enjoy your stay, and leave with a greater enthusiasm to explore your gastronomical senses.