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Lockdown Libations no. 21: Bee’s Knees

May 14, 2021 No Comments

Cracking a new bottle for this: Saskatoon Honey Gin from Eau Claire Distillery.

What better liquor for a Bee’s Knees, which is all about the honey, than this gin made from locally sourced honey, Saskatoon berries and rose hips, along with the usual botanicals.

This week calls for sweet and simple. And this fit the bill perfectly. Softly sweet, slightly floral. Delicate and soothing.

I used my Tantalus Vineyards honey again — the last of it, actually — and it lent such a lovely flavour to the cocktail. A perfect farewell for that jar of deliciousness. Given how much of a role it plays in this cocktail, if you do have good honey hanging around in your cupboard, this is a good place for it.

I/m feeling a little low on words this week, so I’ll just say that I enjoyed this far more than I thought I would. Really. Truly. Like, I wish I had more honey, really, truly.

If you have gin — any standard one should work; having a honey-infused one was a bonus — I 10/10 recommend giving this a try.

Bee’s Knees

2 ounces gin
1 ounce fresh lemon juice
3/4 ounce honey syrup — see below

To a cocktail shaker filled with ice, gin, lemon and honey syrup. Shake vigorously for 15 to 30 seconds, until the vessel is cold to the touch. Strain into a coupe or martini glass.

Honey Syrup

1 cup honey
1/3 cup hot water

Combine honey and hot water and stir to combine. Use immediately. Leftovers can be stored in the fridge for up to five days.

(I didn’t have a full cup of honey — nor was I sure I wanted that much syrup! So, I’ll confess I did the math and did three parts honey to one part hot water to make a far smaller batch. Here’s where knowing kitchen math is super helpful: one tablespoon = three teaspoons. So, I did 1 tablespoon honey to 1 teaspoon boiling water. Made just a little more than the required 3/4 ounces needed.)

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 16: Lavender Gin Sour

March 25, 2021 No Comments

Well, here we are, four months since this project started and no significant signs of slowing, given we’re still in a global panini. Vaccinations are rolling out, thank god. But I think we still have a few more months of this series to come.

That may call for some aromatherapy.

Uh, in a drinkable format.

I love lavender. LOVE. I’ve got it in my essential oil diffuser, I spritz my pillows with a linen spray scented with it, I spray my face with a mixture of lavender and distilled water for a little pick-me-up. (I keep it in my fridge, even — so refreshing!) My current favourite perfume has a lavender undertone. Even my keyboard wrist rest, which is filled with flax, has been scented with the stuff.

I like the flavour as much as the scent. I’ve been making lavender shortbread for years (unexpectedly delicious with some cheeses, like a cave-aged Gruyere) and enjoy a good cup of tea that contains the little purple buds.

So, a couple of months ago, I decided to make a lavender-infused simple syrup and, since then, have used it for everything from Bourbon Sours to stirring it into my morning cup of tea.

And this is a really easy way to take a standard cocktail in new directions: by either infusing a simple syrup or even the liquor itself.

It’s a little easier to experiment with flavouring simple syrups — especially given you can do very small batches to see if you like the result without dedicating an entire bottle of expensive liquor to the endeavour. More delicate herbs, like basil and sage, do better infusing a simple syrup than hard liquor, but, really, you’re only limited by your taste preferences. Spices, fresh ginger, fruits and berries… anything goes.

Infusing liquor itself requires something a little sturdier. Think herbs like rosemary, citrus peel and botanicals or spices. (None of you will be surprised, I’m sure, to learn I threw a few tablespoons of dried, culinary grade lavender into a bottle of Gordon’s gin to let that steep.)

Then making a cocktail basically becomes a game of mix and match. As long as the proportions of liquor, lemon and syrup remain the same — as outlined in the recipe below — you should be mixing up a decent drink. The only thing to think about is how the liquor will match the simple syrup flavour. I’m not sure I’d be interested in cilantro and bourbon, for example. But cilantro with gin… oh, and some lime instead lemon? Yeah, I think there’s something to that idea.

A few things to keep in mind for the recipe: one, the colour of your lavender syrup will vary depending on the plant varietal, the colour of the buds and a host of other factors, so don’t expect it to come out purple. Mine was a sort of pinkish colour, while others I spotted online were more clear or even slightly green hued. Two, I’ve used Empress Gin, which gets its lovely purple hue from butterfly pea blossoms (which then goes pink with the addition of an acid, like lemon) to try to play up the colour in the cocktail. But most London dry gins will work here. Three, I’ve given a range of measurements for the lavender in the simple syrup recipe. I know I like the flavour, so I did the full two tablespoons, but you may want to start on the lower end and see how it tastes. A longer steep time will also affect the strength. As it cools, try a taste every so often and strain off the flowers when you’re happy with the flavour. Four, the egg white, as always, is optional. The drink will have a sharper flavour without it, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Lavender Gin Sour

3 ounces gin
1 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 ounce lavender simple syrup — see recipe below
1 egg white, optional

To a cocktail shaker, add the gin, lemon juice and lavender simple syrup. Shake without ice until the white is frothy. Add the ice cubes and shake again until the drink is chilled.

Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The egg white is optional, of course. If not using, skip the dry shake and just add all the ingredients, along with ice, to the shaker and then shake until well chilled.

Lavender Simple Syrup

1 cup sugar
1 cup water
2 tablespoons lavender blossoms — culinary grade

Combine the sugar, water and lavender (amount depending on how much lavender flavour you want) in a small pot and warm over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the sugar has dissolved. Turn off heat and let the simple syrup steep as it cools. The lavender flavour will deepen depending on the steep time. Strain the flowers and transfer the simple syrup to a jar or bottle. Store in the fridge.

This recipe is easily halved, if you don’t want a full cup of syrup.

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 12: Spicy Averna

February 26, 2021 2 Comments

At the back of the cupboard, there is a bottle of Averna Amaro, which I purchased for one sole purpose: to make Black Manhattans.

To say I was once addicted to that cocktail, which I was first introduced to at Model Milk — it was on the drinks list from the first day it opened — could be an understatement. My love was real. And strong. As were the cocktails themselves. Ahem.

Since the goal of this project is not to make old favourites but explore new options, that meant trying to find something else to do with the Averna.

A deep brown liqueur, almost cola-like in colour, Averna Amaro plays well with the bourbon and orange zest in the original Black Manhattan recipe. This Sicilian bitter’s recipe has, apparently, remained the same for more than 150 years. With notes of citrus zest, warming spices, cola and ginger, I get why I’m drawn to it.

And I was surprised at how versatile it appears to be — though most recipes seem to play up the citrus and ginger. I saw highballs with lime and mixed cocktails with tequila — even a traditional bourbon sour spiked with Averna.

With three lemons in the fridge and a bottle of ginger beer I’ve had since… I actually don’t know, to be honest… going with the Spicy Averna was an easy choice.

The heat of ginger and tart lemon do really well against the liqueur. And it was nice to not have to pull out the cocktail shaker.

This will do really well in the hotter days of summer. I am already predicting some tipsy afternoons on my balcony.

Spicy Averna

2 ounces Averna Amaro
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
4 ounces ginger beer*
piece of candied ginger for garnish (optional)

Into an ice-filled Collins glass, add the Averna Amaro and lemon. Top with ginger beer and stir very gently.

If garnishing, slice partway into the ginger and perch on the glass rim. (I didn’t have any, so I skipped this part. But I bet that is a delightful garnish.)

*Not to be confused with ginger ale, which doesn’t have the requisite spicy punch of heat that ginger beer does.

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 11: Gold Rush

February 19, 2021 4 Comments

I think the remainder of this project will essentially involve bouncing back and forth between gin and bourbon recipes, since that’s what the bulk of the bottles in my cupboard contain. With the odd vodka one thrown in.

Since last week was gin, it’s only fair to go back to bourbon. (I’m a middle child; I’m all about fair.)

I’ve also set a mini goal to not use Cointreau for at least the next couple of weeks. Which rules out the Bourbon Sidecar I was considering — watch this space!

Over the summer, when the travel restrictions were eased, I spent a few days in Kelowna and visited the Tantalus winery for a tasting. I ended up buying a few bottles. (Their Riesling is excellent.) And I impulse bought some of their honey. A little jar with the most beautiful golden colour. The vineyards have beehives and Arlo’s Honey Farm collects the golden liquid from them and puts it into jars so it can be sold in the wineshop.

I’ve been sitting on it for several months now mostly because I wasn’t sure what to do with it. (I basically use honey in tea and for peanut butter and honey sandwiches — I make no apologies — and this seemed a little bit of a waste for the Tantalus.) But I cracked it a few weeks ago for tea and when I was licking the spoon after, I was taken aback. The depth of flavour is so lovely. It’s not just that straight-up sweetness from big-production honey.

(Aside, I think I shall drizzle some over Parm tonight for watching the next episode of WandaVision.)

Coming across this recipe for a Gold Rush seemed the perfect opportunity to use this honey. And, really, it’s a Bourbon Sour with a different sweetener. What’s not to love?

Break out any good honey you have for this one. You will be rewarded.

Gold Rush

2 ounces bourbon
1 ounce honey syrup — see below
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
lemon peel, to garnish

To a cocktail shaker filled with ice, add bourbon, honey syrup and lemon juice. Shake vigorously for 15 to 30 seconds, until the vessel is cold to the touch. Strain into a rocks glass with one large ice cube. Garnish with lemon peel.

Honey Syrup

Warm equal parts of honey and water on the stove (or microwave on low heat), stirring occasionally until dissolved.

Confession: I did this by boiling water and adding it to an equal part of honey and then stirred. Which, bonus, means not having to wash a pot.

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 10: White Lady

February 12, 2021 No Comments

I’ve never heard of a White Lady before. That’s not the start to some Karen joke, I swear.

Which is surprising given it is described as a gin-based Sidecar — hello! — and seems to be in the vicinity of a classic sour.

Although initially looking for a vodka recipe, nothing felt particularly inspiring, but when I searched for gin cocktails, this one popped up and I was game — even though I feel like I am, at this point, abusing my poor Cointreau bottle quite a bit.

The original White Lady, the creation of a bartender named Harry McElhone, was a combination of Cointreau, lemon and … creme de menthe. Which, no. A decade after that he realized what I would consider the error of his ways and replace the creme de menthe with gin. (There is some contention in its history insomuch as the American Bar at the Savoy Hotel credits the creation to one of their bartenders, Harry Craddock.)

Given it’s a classic, I was surprised to discover how many variations there were when it comes to measurements.

Some recipes called for two parts gin to one each of lemon and Cointreau. Others skewed more to the gin. Some called for simple syrup, some for egg white and others for neither of those ingredients. (Egg white was a later addition to the recipe. Neither of the so-called original versions used it.)

I tried both with egg white and without. You know, for SCIENCE!

I do enjoy the smoothness the egg white brings to a cocktail, especially when you use a dry shake method to really froth things up. But there was also some pleasure in the simplicity of preparing the drink without the need for the two-step shake. The flavour of the White Lady without the egg white was sharper, brighter. With it, the drink was gentler. I’m not convinced one is noticeably better, just different.

The White Lady made with egg white is smoother in texture and flavour.

Made without egg white.

I wanted to pull out my Empress Gin for the first time in the Lockdown Libations challenge. I thought a slight purple hue to the drink would be a nice touch, but it was lost in the egg-white version. It did cast a slight pink (because of the interaction with the acid of the lemon) to the non-egg white version, which was quite pretty on an otherwise dreary afternoon.

White Lady

1 1/2 ounces dry gin
1 ounce Cointreau — or another orange-flavoured liqueur
1 ounce fresh lemon juice
1/4 ounce (about 1 teaspoon) simple syrup
1/2 ounce egg white*

*The egg white of a typical large egg is 1 ounce. So, to make a single batch, you want half of an egg white. Of course, you could make it easy on yourself and mix two at once and just use the whole white. ;)

To a cocktail shaker, add the gin, Cointreau, lemon juice and simple syrup. Shake without ice until the white is frothy. Add the ice cubes and shake again until the drink is chilled.

Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The egg white is optional, of course. If not using, skip the dry shake and just add all the ingredients, along with ice, to the shaker and then shake until well chilled.

Writing while sipping…..

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 9: Bourbon Renewal

February 5, 2021 No Comments

Crème de cassis is probably the most unusual — or maybe unexpected — liquor in my cabinet.

And, if I’m going to be brutally honest, it should have been “retired” before now given it has, unlike many other liquors, a shelf life. Not that it goes bad, per se. But the flavours dull and the colour goes brown. Turns out, it should be kept in the fridge after opening. Lesson learned.

Likely known best for Kir Royales, crème de cassis is made from blackcurrants, which lends a lovely dark purple hue and fruity flavour. When added to white wine, it becomes a kir. Added to bubbles and it becomes ‘royale.’ Champagne makes everything fancier, naturellement.

Given the point of the series is to try new things, that meant no Kir Royales for me this time.

Turns out a very talented bartender in Portland, Oregon by the name of Jeffrey Morgenthaler created a recipe right up my alley: Bourbon Renewal.

Named after a band his former business partner was in, Morgenthaler came up with the drink for Clyde Common, which I am adding to my list of places to visit whenever travel is a safe option again. Do I hear 2022?

The drink is a play on a traditional bourbon sour, this cocktail adds a little crème de cassis for a berry undertone and beautiful colour — you know, if your crème de cassis is still the right shade.

I loved it. Which has made me think it wouldn’t be so bad to replace my retired bottle with a new one….

Bourbon Renewal

2 ounces bourbon
1 ounce lemon juice
1/2 ounce crème de cassis
1/2 ounce simple syrup, or less to taste
1 dash Angostura bitters

To a cocktail shaker filled with ice, add bourbon, lemon juice, crème de cassis, simple syrup and bitters. Shake vigorously for 15 to 30 seconds, until the vessel is cold to the touch.

Strain into an ice-filled (oops!) Old Fashioned glass.

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 7: Sidecar 75

January 22, 2021 No Comments

An almost-finished bottle of Courvoisier, a neglected half a lemon in the fridge and a little googling led to this week’s Lockdown Libation and I couldn’t be happier.

I love a Sidecar — it’s included in Pucker for a reason. And, really, it’s the reason I have a bottle of cognac to begin with. So, I was sorely tempted to just make one and call it a day. But that sort of defeats one of the main objectives of this project — to expand my cocktail horizons — and if I relent on that goal only six short weeks in, then I’m in a world of trouble once we get to week 20.

In looking for interesting cognac recipes, though, almost every single one required some bottle of liquor I, shockingly, don’t already own. Yes, sure, I’d love to make a Sazerac (no absinthe) or the intriguingly named Between the Sheets (fun fact: that was the title of my masters thesis exploring the role of sex columnists in contemporary Canadian media), or even my old standby the Champs-Elysees (no green chartreuse).

And then I came across this recipe for a drink that combines two old favourites: the French 75 and a Sidecar.

A traditional French 75 takes lemon, cognac, Brut champagne and a little simple syrup to create a bubbly and bright lemon drink. The Sidecar, with its cognac, lemon and orange liqueur, is a little more balanced though, obviously, non-bubbly. Combining the two seemed so smart I wondered why I’d never heard of such a thing before.

Given my healthy supply of Brut sparkling wine — owing to a subscription I had for two years with Fitz Wine, which I loved — and the fact I actually had all the things needed, this was a no-brainer of a decision.

This will most definitely be going into the regular rotation….

A note: the original recipe calls for orange bitters, which I don’t have. But I have Lemon Marrakech ones and I figure amping the tartness wouldn’t be a terrible idea, all things considered.

Sidecar 75

1 1/2 ounces cognac
3/4 ounce Cointreau — or another orange liqueur
3/4 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
dash orange or lemon bitters
1 ounce sparkling wine

To a cocktail shaker filled with ice, add the cognac, Cointreau, lemon juice and bitters. Shake vigorously for 15 to 30 seconds, until the vessel is cold to the touch.

Strain the drink into a champagne flute. Top with sparkling wine. (I skipped any garnish — a lemon twist would be oh-so elegant — because that lemon really had been neglected and wouldn’t have given me any usable peel.)

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 5: Whisky Daisy

January 7, 2021 No Comments

I have made a few resolutions — of all sizes, so at least some will be easily achieved — for the new year.

You know, drink more water, read 20 books before the end of 2021, do the NYTimes crossword every day. Channel more drag queen confidence. The usual.

via GIPHY

Can a resolution be to continue something you already started? Because I want to stay committed to Lockdown Libations and, let it be known, I’ve got enough liquor to get us through at least 52 more weeks of this. (Though, admittedly, I laughed when I saw I only posted cocktail recipes in 2020, so I will try to get some food posts going again too. Oh! Like this amazing scallion and lemony yogurt dip I got addicted to in the summer….)

After gin, vodka and tequila, it was time to dive into the brown liquor side of the cabinet. I’ve got a solid little collection of bourbon — naturally — but also Canadian rye and whisky, American whiskey and even some from Japan.

Typically, I’m reaching for those bottles to make Boulevardiers (a negroni, but swap the gin for bourbon), classic sours or, of course, a Paper Plane. But the point of the project, beyond drinking down the liquor cabinet, is to try new recipes and, with a little searching, I found the Whisky Daisy.

Mostly, I was charmed by the name, which I kept saying in my head like “oops-a-daisy.” But the fact it uses lemon was a bonus. You know I can’t resist citrus. And the idea of augmenting an otherwise straightforward sour with a further punch of citrus by using Cointreau appealed.

Although this cocktail was described as a “true classic,” I find myself surprised to have never heard of it. (And even more so that it’s a whole family of cocktails — just swap the main liquor for another like, say, gin.) A shame because it hits all the marks with a nice punch of citrus playing against the slightly spicy rye I went with.

I’ll be trying this again with other whiskeys in ye old cabinet of wonders because I’m interested to see how the different liquors play against the rest of the ingredients. (I may even skip the sparkling water, which I’m not convinced was necessary.)

UPDATE: I skipped the soda/sparkling water during my Global Edmonton gig by complete mistake and, whoa, so much better! Take a sip of it before adding the soda; you may find you like it well enough without.

Whisky Daisy

2 ounces whiskey or rye
1 ounce lemon juice
1/2 ounce Cointreau (or another orange liqueur — use what you have!)
1/4 ounce simple syrup*
sparkling water

Add the whiskey, lemon juice, Cointreau and simple syrup to a shaker filled with ice. Shake vigorously until chilled.

Strain into a chilled glass. Top with a splash of sparkling water.

*To make simple syrup, simply combine equal parts sugar and water in a small pot and warm gently over low heat, stirring occasionally until the sugar has dissolved. Cool. Store in the fridge.

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 3: Vesper Martini

December 11, 2020 5 Comments

Hello!

And helllloooooo….

No, that’s not entirely gratuitous. There is a point in having Mr. Craig join us here and that’s because he was the impetus for this week’s cocktail.

The streaming service Crave recently added the entire Bond library and I thought it would be fun to watch them in order. So, I started with Dr. No and … guys, it’s so boring! Good lord, movies have changed a lot. So, I changed my tactic and decided to do a mini marathon of all the most recent films, starting with Casino Royale. It is likely my favourite of all the Bond films, for many reasons — no, not just the bathing suit scene — not the least of which is I could listen to Eva Green read the dictionary.

That scene of them on the train? Fire.

Which brings me to the Vesper Martini.

It’s as much as a plot device as a cocktail — almost a character, even.

Although the majority of the cocktail is gin, what sets it apart from other martinis is the addition of Lillet, a French aperitif made from a blend of wine and citrus liqueur.

I had a bottle in the cupboard of wonders because, cough, cough, I bought it when Casino Royale first came out and I was intrigued by the Vesper. Can we file this under ‘better late than never?’

Most recipes call for Gordon’s, but I don’t have any. This seemed like a good time to crack my Sipsmith gin, which was part of the martini box I purchased during the first lockdown from Proof and to use some of my Schramm’s — an organic potato vodka from Pemberton, B.C.

This is a boozy wallop of a cocktail. More than four ounces of liquor — no filler.

And, to be honest, not my favourite. While I can down a Bourbon Old Fashioned, a Boulevardier and a multitude of other straight-liquor cocktails, I struggled with this one. I think the flavour combination just didn’t do much for me.

So, while I’m glad I tried it, I am going to have to find other ways to enjoy Lillet. Perhaps, as the French do, just deeply chilled with a slice of lemon.

(Aside, interestingly, and so very Bond-like, there is a definite debate on whether this is better shaken or stirred. In this particular movie, Bond says he doesn’t care. Some sites argue shaking dilutes too much — which, incidentally, is why Bond does have that preference as it is said he needs to have his faculties about him — and it should be stirred instead. For what it’s worth, I used my shaker, which is why the instructions call for it. I’m sure Bond would be fine if you’d prefer to stir.)

Vesper Martini

3 ounces gin
1 ounce vodka
1/2 ounce Lillet Blanc
lemon twist

Add the gin, vodka and Lillet to a cocktail shaker with a healthy amount of ice and shake until well-chilled.

Strain into a chilled glass. Rub the lemon twist around the rim of the glass and then add to the drink.

Drinks, Lockdown Libations

Lockdown Libations no. 2: Meyer Lemon Margarita

December 4, 2020 1 Comment

This is the story of two impulse purchases.

First, a bag of Meyer lemons I grabbed while grocery shopping. If you know anything about me at this point, you know I love a lemon. And Meyers must be embraced during their short season because that slight sweetness, floral note and thin skin truly set them apart from any standard citrus. (I have some similar feelings to the darkly flavoured blood oranges that also make fleeting appearances on store shelves, but nothing as strong as my excitement on seeing Meyers back again.) (Aside: blood oranges make a fabulous Bourbon Old Fashioned — you’re welcome.)

Second, a container of chili con queso from Empire Provisions.

This was truly unnecessary as I was only there to pick up an order I made online. (Have you tried the Korean sausage? You must. I like to stir fry it, throwing in some thinly sliced green onions toward the end, perhaps some chopped cilantro if I have it, and then put it onto a bowl of rice with a ton of quick cucumber pickles, a gross amount of pickled ginger — though usually store bought, I’ll confess — and some steamed veggies, if I have any. And then, I squeeze over some Kewpie mayo. I know, I know, it’s a bit horrifying. Think of it like the anti-Buddha bowl. But dear god, it is truly heaven — you’re welcome.)

Anyway, I was stopping in the fridge/freezer section for a Mexican Coca-Cola and my eye caught by the chili con queso in all of its electric orange-yellow. Did I need it? No. Did I suddenly have an undying craving to eat it? Yes.

Clearly, my subconscious was way ahead of me. I guess it remembered I had a piddly amount of tequila in my cupboard o’ wonders — not to mention three (THREE! Jesus wept.) bottles of Cointreau. (This is why I now have lists taped to the cupboard doors.)

Citrus + tequila + Cointreau = good times.

Good times x chili con queso = excellent times.

That’s just good math.

(Full disclosure: I’m writing this at the end of the margarita and… I think I’m pretty funny right now.)

For all the slushy versions and fancy tequilas available and interesting fruits you can use, a margarita, I feel, is best when simple. See above. And when you have an ingredient like Meyer lemons, you’re halfway home. Sure, lime is traditional. Meyers? Magical.

You’re welcome.

Lockdown Libations achievement unlocked: there were exactly 1.5 ounces of tequila left in the bottle. Not only did I have enough to make this drink, but that’s one bottle not going back into the cupboard!

Meyer Lemon Margarita

1 1/2 ounces tequila
1 1/2 ounces freshly squeezed Meyer lemon juice
1 ounce Cointreau
flaky or kosher salt for the glass rim

Set a couple of tablespoons of salt onto a small plate.

Cut your Meyer lemon and use the flesh side to rim your glass. The juice from the lemon will act as an adhesive for the salt.

Swirl the rim through the dish of salt — you can do the entire top of the glass or just half, whatever you’d like.

Put a handful of ice cubes into the glass.

To a cocktail shaker, add more ice, the tequila, lemon juice and Cointreau. Shake vigorously for 15 to 30 seconds, until the vessel is cold to the touch.

Strain the drink into the glass.

Drinks

Paper Plane

May 7, 2020 2 Comments

Who needs a drink?

For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’m drinking any more than normal even though we’re in the middle of an unprecedented time of pandemic and physical distancing.

The main difference is that I am, of course, doing it alone in my apartment because … well, Covid-19.

Maybe you are too. And maybe, just maybe, you’d like to add something new to your repertoire?

Meet the Paper Plane.

Fun fact: it has all the hallmarks of a classic cocktail, but it’s actually quite a modern drink — invented by Australian bartender Sam Ross, ostensibly as a nod to the song of the same name by M.I.A.

It was the bourbon that drew me in. Well, and lemon, obviously.

Those two — which form the basis of my entry point into the world of bourbon (via a classic Bourbon Sour) — are a natural pairing. But the drink becomes much more complex with addition of Amaro Nonino and Aperol, which add herbaceous and bitter elements.

The result is a well balanced cocktail that is remarkably easy to make. I mean, it is literally equal parts of four ingredients — one measuring implement (What? Sometimes I don’t want to dig out my jigger. *shrug*), no math.

Paper Plane

3/4 ounce bourbon
3/4 ounce Aperol
3/4 ounce Amaro Nonino
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice

Add all the ingredients and ice into a shaker. Shake vigorously until the shaker begins to chill.

Strain into a coupe glass.

Garnish with lemon peel, if desired.

Salads, Vegetarian

Asparagus Salad with Parmesan and Lemon-Dijon Dressing

March 26, 2016 No Comments

It is thisclose to spring.

Sure, we’re in the middle of that weird part of the changing seasons when the weather flip-flops between sun and beers on patios, followed closely by fat flakes of snow coating the landscape. But even in these confused days of shifting temperatures and growing impatience for that first flush of green, I want to at least taste like spring has arrived.

I’m eager to shrug off the winter comfort foods — braises and creamy pastas — for the fresh flavours that come with the changing season. I want to nibble on green shoots and tender vegetables that are harbingers of longer, warmer days to come.

So, forgive me, because I’m about to cheat.

Here, it is not yet asparagus season — that’s still a good six weeks or so away — but I just need that first taste of it.

If you are more patient than me, feel free to bookmark this for later. But I won’t tell if you reach out for a bunch of asparagus at the grocery store because you’re also looking for something light and green to cleanse the winter palate.

Lemon, with its inherent brightness (which I argue makes it good for any season), matches well here and also seems to herald the changing of the seasonal guard.

It’s a perfect match with asparagus. Even in the colder months, when I crack and buy some to roast in a hot oven with a drizzle of olive oil and some salt and pepper, I will squeeze over a wedge of lemon or two to add some zing and cut the richness.

For spring, though, I want asparagus in salad form.

While we often think of steaming, roasting or grilling the green spears, it’s perfectly tasty without any heat being added to the mix. Sometimes I make salads by peeling off thin layers of the stalks to create ribbons. Other times, I make this salad, where I slice them into coins and add a bit of crunch with some walnuts and salty richness from some Parmesan cheese.

I came up with this recipe for Asparagus Salad with Parmesan and Lemon-Dijon Dressing when I was writing Pucker, which, it’s hard to believe, has now been out for about 16 months. At turns it feels like years and year ago, while in others it feels like I was just working on it, just seeing the designs, just holding my own copy for the first time.

I still find it a little hard to believe that I wrote a book, even more so when I stumble upon it in stores or get tweets from people about what they’ve made or how they’ve made some recipes their own. (Thank you to all who have tweeted or Instagrammed their dishes; it is so rewarding and I’m so grateful.)

So, maybe this is weird, but sometimes I crack my own copy to make something (why reinvent the wheel, right?). And right now, that’s this salad. I apologize in advance if making it — and talking about how it’s pretty much spring now — brings on the next great snowstorm. In that case, take the asparagus and roast it off instead. Just don’t forget the squeeze of lemon at the end.

Asparagus Salad with Parmesan and Lemon-Dijon Dressing

As published in Pucker: A Cookbook for Citrus Lovers, Whitecap Books (2014)

1 bunch asparagus (about 1 pound/500 g)
4 to 5 green onions, sliced
1 cup grated Parmesan
1/2 cup walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped

Dressing:

2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Chop off the rough ends of the asparagus and then slice crosswise into 1/4-inch coins, leaving the tips intact. In a large bowl, combine the chopped asparagus, green onions, Parmesan and walnuts.

In a jar with a lid or in a small bowl, combine the lemon juice, Dijon, honey, salt and pepper. Shake or whisk to mix thoroughly, then add the oil and shake or whisk again until the dressing has emulsified. Pour most of the dressing over the salad and toss. Add more dressing as needed. Serve immediately.

Serves 4.

Salads, Vegetables

Kale Salad with Hazelnuts and Apple

March 15, 2014 4 Comments

No one would ever describe me as trendy.

I rarely look good in fashionable clothes and can’t figure out how to wear any new style of makeup.

Even when it comes to food, I’m often behind the times.

So, it’s no surprise I’m falling for kale just as it’s falling out of popular favour.

Kale became a culinary darling a few years ago, starting with an obsession for kale chips that spread like wildfire on food blogs. The simple recipe of tossing ripped leaves with a bit of olive oil, salt and pepper, then baking them to a crisp, spawned thousands of blog posts. Hailed as the ultimate snack, food blogs were filled with increasingly creative versions.

There was something about them popping up everywhere that made me specifically not want to try kale chips and, as a consequence of not really knowing what else to do with the cruciferous vegetable, not bothering to try kale at all.

And then I was served a kale salad at a potluck.

The greens were dressed with a vinaigrette spiked with grainy mustard and sprinkled with paper-thin radishes. I asked for seconds.

Turns out, my disinterest in following a trend had meant I had been missing out.

Since then, I’ve started making my own versions of that salad — adding apple for some sweetness and hazelnuts for crunch — taking advantage of the fact it pays to work ahead with kale. Dressing it in advance, unlike other salads, actually improves the salad, as the vinaigrette helps soften the otherwise tough leaves. The dark green vegetable stands up to the dressing so well, it makes for a great work lunch because there’s no need to keep the salad and the dressing separate.

A nutritional powerhouse, full of beta carotene and calcium, as well as vitamins K and C, kale should transcend trends.

But, of course, like anything that becomes a widespread hit, there is bound to a point in time when people begin tiring of it and want to move on to the next hot ingredient.

As 2014 marches on, some in the food community are starting to declare kale has reached a saturation point on restaurant menus and in recipes. It’s time for that trend to move along, they say.

I’m not against the idea of another ingredient getting some time in the spotlight.

But, luckily, since I never really pay attention to trends, that means kale will be on my menu for a long time to come.

Kale Salad with Hazelnuts and Apple

Like all salads, this one is infinitely adaptable. Swap out different nuts, replace the apple with dried cranberries or cherries or add thin slices of radish for a peppery punch.

Dressing:

Zest of 1 lemon
1 tbsp (15 mL) lemon juice
1 tbsp (15 mL) apple cider vinegar
1 tsp (5 mL) grainy mustard
2 tsp (10 mL) honey
1/4 tsp (1 mL) salt
1/4 tsp (1 mL) freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup (60 mL) olive oil

Salad:

2 bunches kale, cored and roughly chopped
1 crisp apple, julienned
1/4 cup (60 mL) hazelnuts, toasted and roughly chopped
2 green onions, thinly sliced

In a jar or bowl, shake or mix together the first seven dressing ingredients — from the lemon zest to the pepper — to dissolve the salt and honey. Add the olive oil and shake or mix again until the dressing has emulsified.

Add the chopped kale to a large bowl, pour over the dressing and toss well. Refrigerate for at least an hour to let the dressing soften the leaves. When ready to serve, add the apple, hazelnuts and green onions, tossing everything together.

Serves 4 to 6.

Drinks, Pucker

Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour and Oh My God, I’m Writing a Book

October 28, 2013 16 Comments

I’ve been driving around for the last few days with a 10-kilogram bag of sugar in my backseat.

Not even in the trunk — there isn’t enough room between all the flats of diet coke.

Lately, I’ve found myself in a position where I’m going through lots of sugar. Maybe not quite enough to justify purchasing a bag the weight of a small child, but it is a lot more cost effective this way.

It’s not that I suddenly have insatiable cravings for sweet stuff (I will almost always take savoury options over sweet ones when it comes to snacking, despite my love of baking), it’s that recipe testing comes with a lot of trial and error. And that means going through ingredients pretty quickly.

See, I’ve been keeping a small secret. At first because details had to be ironed out. And then because I just wasn’t even sure I believed it myself and finally because I didn’t really know how to even start that conversation.

But here it is: I’m writing a book. A cookbook.

(I celebrated signing by drinking some Veuve Clicquot Rose. Sometimes a girl just has to splurge on herself.)

This time next year, people — friends, family, strangers — will be able to walk into a bookstore, or go online, and purchase something with my name on it, with my recipes inside, with my photos illustrating those cocktails, cookies, salads, main dishes and more.

The book contains all recipes that use lemons, limes and grapefruits and it’s called (and I do love this part) Pucker.

When I started this blog five years ago, it was a little side project, a hobby, something to counteract the gloom of covering crime and calamity in the city. These were the years at the height of the gang war and city police were handling upwards of 30 homicides a year. Those days when I worked night shifts, those weekends when I wasn’t listening to the police scanner, I was baking and cooking, photographing and writing, all for the pleasure of it.

Now I get to do all that as my job. And that led to me writing a book as a result.

Life is amazing sometimes.

Let’s have a drink to celebrate, shall we?

How about with a Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour.

Meyer lemons are slightly sweeter, more fragrant versions of their regular cousins, which are more typical for sour drinks. They work just as well, as long as there is compensation on the simple syrup end of the equation. A sweeter citrus means less sugar is needed.

I’ve gone old school with this sour, using egg white in the recipe to create a smooth and frothy cocktail. Those who don’t want to take chances by consuming raw egg can just leave it out. I make it both ways and both are equally good. (Though, admittedly, not using the egg white shaves off at least a minute. You know, if that drink needs to be made quickly. However, if you do use the egg white, may I suggest hanging on to the yolk and making some lemon curd?)

When I first started drinking sours, I made them with whiskey. (Good lord, this blog has come a long way since then. Yikes!) Over the last year, I’ve come to realize that I’m really much more of a bourbon girl. In particular, Buffalo Trace. So, that’s what I use in my cocktails, like this Old Fashioned. But, of course, use what you like, whether bourbon or whiskey.

And yes, this will probably be in the book.

Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour

1 1/2 ounces bourbon or whiskey
1 ounce Meyer lemon juice
1/2 ounce simple syrup
1 egg white

In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, combine all the ingredients. Shake well. Strain into a glass and enjoy.

Baking

Lemon Polenta Cookies

March 17, 2013 4 Comments

To glaze or not to glaze? That was, in the end, the question.

And, with apologies to Shakespeare, it was a far tastier one.

It started with some Lemon Polenta Cookies and an overachieving lemon that gave off copious amounts of juice – far more than necessary for the recipe. It developed when I remembered once seeing a recipe for a different lemon cookie featuring a glazed top — all smooth and pale white, just hinting at the lemon flavour. And it culminated with me mixing up just a bit of a glaze, enough to use up the last of the juice – waste not, want not, after all – and drizzle some of it over a handful of cookies to see which were tastier.

I was first attracted to this recipe after discovering, to my dismay, that I have three packages of finely ground cornmeal in my cupboard – the product of forgetting I have some, buying more and then forgetting again. I had been through a cornbread phase, followed by an actual made-from-scratch polenta phase. And then those bags were forgotten about until a fit of not-quite-spring cleaning.

(Truly, if there is a zombie apocalypse, please come to my apartment. My overly stocked cupboards should keep us fed for the first few months.)

The idea of adding cornmeal to a cookie was intriguing. The result didn’t disappoint.

The addition of cornmeal gives them a slight heartiness, a nuttiness and a nice texture, even though they’re still soft and chewy in the centre.

The zest and lemon juice add lots of bright flavour and the whole recipe comes together quickly.

Unadorned, they were lovely. But there was all that leftover, freshly squeezed and strained juice just asking to be made into a glaze.

So, a glaze I made, drizzling it thickly over the cookies and letting it coat the nubbly surface.

Friends were divided on which they preferred.

As one said, when there is a chance to glaze, the answer is always to glaze.

Another disagreed, noting the plain version of the cookie had a crunchier top, which was preferable.

I ate both – possibly a few times – and still remain completely divided.

Surely, the only solution is to try yourself and see which you prefer.

Lemon Polenta Cookies

½ cup (125 mL) finely ground cornmeal
1 ½ cups (375 mL) all-purpose flour
½ t (2 mL) salt
¾ cup (175 mL) butter, softened
1 cup (250 mL) sugar
zest of 1 lemon
2 tbsp (30 mL) lemon juice
1 egg

Preheat oven to 350.

In a bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour and salt. Set aside.

Using a mixer, beat together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the lemon zest and juice, mixing until incorporated. Beat in the egg.

Add the cornmeal mixture and mix on low speed until just incorporated, about 1 minute or less.

Scoop tablespoon-sized balls of dough onto cookie sheets, allowing room for them to spread a bit.

Bake until just golden at the edges, between 14 and 18 minutes, depending on the size of the dough balls.

Makes 18 to 20 cookies.

Optional Glaze

¼ cup (60 mL) icing sugar
1 tbsp (15 mL) lemon juice

In a small bowl, mix together the sugar and lemon juice until completely incorporated. Drizzle over cookies.

This should be enough to glaze about half the cookies.

Drinks

Sidecar

May 15, 2012 2 Comments

I love a good retro cocktail.

Though, truth be told, some times I like just about any kind of cocktail. At Milk Tiger Lounge — where, let me tell you, they make a mean cocktail — I’m particularly prone to ordering the Champs-Élysées. Or, uh, several.

Ahem.

And sometimes I’ll order a Sidecar.

But, where the Champs-Élysées is made with ingredients I’m unlikely to ever have in my liquor cabinet — yellow chartreuse is a good example — those in the Sidecar are pretty standard: Cointreau, Cognac and lemon juice.

The thing I don’t usually have is, strangely, ice. My freezer sucks all the moisture out of it and leaves tiny, misshapen cubes with a disgusting aftertaste. So, I rarely make shaken cocktails at home, since it seems a bit silly to buy a giant bag of ice for a drink or two and then have it take up valuable space in my freezer. But I had friends over for dinner last weekend and I knew that gin and tonics would be in order and that would mean ice. And that meant some leftover ice. And that meant it was cocktail time.

Enter the Sidecar.

It’s tart, yet sweet, citrusy and smooth.

And it goes down dangerously easy. Please consider yourself warned.

Sidecar

3/4 ounce Cointreau
1 1/4 ounces Cognac
3/4 ounce lemon juice
sugar and additional lemon juice for sugaring the rim

Rub the rim of the glass with lemon juice and then dip in sugar.

In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, add the Cointreau, Cognac and lemon juice. Shake well and strain into prepared glass.

Breakfast

Looking for the Lemon Ricotta Pancakes?

May 6, 2012 1 Comment

For anyone who may have caught me on Global Calgary this morning, first, thanks for watching. Second, if you’re looking for the Lemon Ricotta Pancakes recipe, just click here and enjoy!

Dinner, Lunch, Vegetables, Vegetarian

Spring Green Risotto

April 18, 2012 2 Comments

Last Saturday, I had drinks on a patio. Sunglasses were a necessity, as was a tall glass of something cold, and good conversation with friends.

All along 17th Avenue, patios were cracked open for the first warm weekend day in March. Tables were jammed with people laughing, drinking and turning their faces skyward to bask in the warm sun.

It’s as sure a sign of the changing seasons as the fact we had to put our clocks forward that night. (Though one is very much preferable to the other.)

It’s nearly spring.

But we’re not quite there yet.

After all, there are still patches of snow and, it being Calgary, we can be assured of one last blast of winter before spring truly arrives.

As I wait for those first green buds to appear, I find myself drawn to eating something that can at least remind me of spring. This Spring Green Risotto from the Barefoot Contessa is a good fit.

The bright green of asparagus and peas, the bright flavour of lemon zest and juice are the tastes and sights of spring. The mascarpone (or, in my case, cream cheese as mascarpone was not to be found) brings a rich creaminess that’s a good last comfort-food hurrah as winter fades away.

Risotto is a bit fussier than other dishes because of the continual stirring, but I think it’s worth the effort. In my experience, you don’t have to be chained to the pot, constantly moving the grains of rice about. You just need to be nearby for frequent stirring.

(I’m sure someone is mentally scolding me right now for that statement, but if the thought of cooking a risotto has put you off because you believe it will be a major arm workout from stirring for 30 minutes non-stop, this is me suggesting you reconsider. No, you can’t walk away; yes, you can do light kitchen tidying at the same time. Or that’s what I did.)

The patience and frequent stirring is worth it. Especially with this recipe.

Those little green peas popped with flavour, while the lemon juice made it bright and the cream cheese (see the recipe notes) added a smooth, creamy flavour without too much richness.

It’s enough to tide me over until spring finally does break through. Or at least until the next day warm enough for patio drinks.

Spring Green Risotto

Adapted from Barefoot Contessa Back to Basics. I omitted the 1 cup (250 mL) of chopped fennel, since I don’t like the flavour. Add it in with the leeks if you’re more of a fan. If you can’t find mascarpone (which I couldn’t – and didn’t want to go searching for in another store), spreadable cream cheese is a decent substitute. It’s less authentic, but was creamy and tangy enough. Using light cream cheese will also cut some of the calories.

1 1/2 tbsp (22 mL) olive oil
1 1/2 tbsp (22 mL) unsalted butter
3 cups (750 mL) chopped leeks, white and light green parts only (about 2 leeks)
1 1/2 cups (375 mL) arborio rice
2/3 cup (150 mL) dry white wine
4-5 cups (1 to 1.25 L) simmering chicken stock
1 lb (500 g) asparagus, cut diagonally in 1 1/2-inch (4 cm) lengths
10 oz (300 g) frozen peas, defrosted
1 tbsp (15 mL) freshly grated lemon zest (about 2 lemons)
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp (25 mL) freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/3 cup (75 mL) mascarpone cheese
1/2 cup (125 mL) freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for serving
3 tbsp (50 mL) minced fresh chives, plus extra for serving

Heat the olive oil and butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the leeks and saute for 5 to 7 minutes, until tender.

Add the rice and stir for a minute to coat with the leeks, oil and butter. Add the white wine and simmer over low heat, stirring often, until most of the wine is absorbed. Add the chicken stock, a soup ladleful or two at a time, stirring often.

Most of the stock should be absorbed before adding another ladleful. This should take between 25 and 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, blanch the asparagus in boiling salted water for a few minutes, until just tender. Drain and cool in ice water.

When the risotto has been cooking for about 20 minutes, drain the asparagus and add it to the risotto with the peas, lemon zest, 2 teaspoons (10 mL) salt and 1 teaspoon (5 mL) of pepper. Continue cooking and adding stock, stirring almost constantly, until the rice is tender but still firm.

In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice and mascarpone.

When the risotto is done, remove from the heat and stir in the mascarpone mixture, plus the Parmesan and chives. Taste and adjust seasonings as necessary.

Sprinkle with chives and more Parmesan to serve.

Serves 4 for dinner, 6 as an appetizer.

This article first appeared in the Calgary Herald. For recipe ideas and stories about food, check out the Herald’s food page.

Baking

Meyer Lemon and Sea Salt Focaccia

February 25, 2012 3 Comments

I love all things lemon. Obviously.

And I have a fascination with Meyer lemons.

So, when I spotted a rather large clamshell package of them at Costco, I just couldn’t resist.

So bright, so tempting. So many options.

A long time ago, I bookmarked a recipe over on The Kitchn (which is a fabulous site and well worth checking out, if you have not already) for a lemon and sea salt focaccia. Bread? Lemon? Flaky salt? Yes, that sounds like perfection.

And it did indeed sound like perfection.

I’m just not sure I loved the reality.

I thought a mandolin would get the lemons thin enough to top the focaccia, but the blade wasn’t sharp enough, so, in the end, I just used my extremely sharp paring knife. But I don’t think I got them quite as thin as they needed to be because even after baking they were a bit overpowering. I like the acidic bite of a lemon — maybe more than the average person — but the bites of lemon, even with the bread, were pretty sour.

That said, I loved the actual focaccia part of it. So, I’m going to keep this recipe around because the dough is so great.

Meyer Lemon and Sea Salt Focaccia

Adapted slightly from The Kitchn.

For the Dough

1 envelope (2-1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast
6 tablespoons really good extra virgin olive oil, divided
4 cups bread flour, plus more for kneading
2 teaspoons salt

To Assemble

Really good extra virgin olive oil
2 Meyer lemons, washed and very thinly sliced into rounds
Flaked salt, like Maldon

For the dough, dissolve the yeast in 1/2 cup warm water in a the bowl of a stand mixer. Stir in 1-1/4 cups water and 2 tablespoons of the olive oil.

Add the flour and salt and, using the dough hook, mix until a ball of dough forms. Put 2 tablespoons of the oil into a large bowl. Roll dough around in bowl until coated with oil. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the dough rise in a warm spot until it has doubled in size, about 2 hours.

Pour a thin film of oil into each of four 8-inch round cake pans. (Though I used a rimmed cookie sheet and spread the entire dough over it.) Quarter the dough and put one piece into each pan. Using your fingertips, spread dough out in each pan. The dough is elastic and will resist stretching. Let it relax for 5 minutes or so after you’ve stretched it as far as it will go. Eventually, it will cooperate and fill the pan.

Preheat the oven to 450°. Cover the pans with damp dishcloths and let the dough rest until it has swollen in the pans a bit, 30-60 minutes.

Uncover the pans. Sprinkle the dough with the rosemary (I didn’t have rosemary, so went without.) Using your fingertips, poke dimples into the dough in each pan, then liberally drizzle with oil so it pools in the hollows. Arrange just the thinnest rounds of lemon on top, drizzle with more oil, and sprinkle with sea salt. We like ours salty. Bake the focaccia until golden brown, 20-30 minutes. Drizzle with more oil when you pull the focaccia from the oven. Serve cut into wedges.

Dinner, Salads, Vegetables, Vegetarian

Quinoa Tabouleh

August 27, 2011 1 Comment

Some people impulse buy gum.

I impulse buy five-pound bags of quinoa.

Oh sure, I thought it was a lovely idea in that moment, romanced by all the things I could do with this versatile, healthy, nutritious ingredient chock full of protein and fibre.

Especially after I saw on the back of the hefty bag that I can cook quinoa in my rice cooker. (Cooking rice and rice-related ingredients? Not my forte. I blame it on a year living in Japan where my apartment came equipped with a rice cooker.)

And then I got the family-sized bag home, jammed it into my cupboard and kind of forgot about it as it occupied valuable real estate in my kitchen. I finally unearthed it many weeks later, concocting a biryani-style salad with currants, chickpeas and a curry-lime dressing.

And then I forgot about it again.

Since then, there has been a bit more experimenting with quinoa.

But there is also something to be said about going back to basics — honest-to-goodness classic dishes that remain in the cooking repertoire for a reason.

Things like tabouli.

Or tabbouli. Or even tabouleh.

Or however you want to spell it.

In theory, this is a salad I should like. Mint and parsley, lemon juice, tomato and cucumber. All those herbs with that zip of acidic lemon, the crunch of cucumber and umami taste of tomato? I like all those things. A lot.

What I don’t like is bulgur, the grain traditionally used in tabbouleh salads.

I made a huge bowl of it once using a recipe that called for bulgur and then had to eat it for two days to get through it, hating it the entire time.

I didn’t like the taste or the chew and forcing myself to finish the thing, which had taken a bit of time and effort to prepare, did not help the situation.

So, as I was sorting through my cupboards the other day and stumbled across the still half-full bag of impulse quinoa, I was struck by a thought: why not make tabbouleh with a grain-like ingredient I actually enjoy?

And I pulled out my rice cooker and did exactly that.

(As a result of cooking it this way, I can offer you no suggestions or guidelines for cooking quinoa, other than tell you what I was also told: give it a bit of a rinse or a soak – say about 10 minutes or so — before cooking, which should alleviate any of the bitterness you might taste otherwise.)

With the exception of using quinoa and the addition of a red (or orange or yellow) paper for a bit of additional colour and crunch, this recipe holds quite true to traditional tabbouleh.

It’s the abundance of herbs, slight onion bite from the green onions and generous amount of lemon juice that gives it such a refreshing and light taste.

It’s the substitution of quinoa for bulgur that makes it no hardship to finish it off pretty quickly.

And, thankfully, I still have plenty more quinoa to make this again.

Quinoa Tabbouleh

4 cups (1 L) cooked quinoa
1 red, orange or yellow pepper, diced
1 cup (250 mL) cherry or grape tomatoes, halved or quartered
2 to 4 green onions, sliced thinly
2 mini cucumbers, halved, seeded and sliced
¼ cup (50 mL) mint, chopped
¼ cup (50 mL) parsley, chopped
1/3 cup (75 mL) lemon juice (from about 2 lemons)
1 tsp (5 mL) salt
freshly ground pepper
1/3 cup (75 mL) extra virgin olive oil

Cook quinoa according to directions. Let cool and place in large bowl. Add red pepper, tomatoes, green onions, cucumbers, mint and parsley. In separate bowl, mix lemon juice, salt and pepper. Whisk to dissolve salt. While whisking, slowly drizzle in olive oil to emulsify. Pour about ¾ of the dressing over the salad and toss. Add the remaining dressing if the salad seems dry.

Serves 4.

This piece originally ran in the Calgary Herald. For more great recipes and stories, head to the Herald’s food page at CalgaryHerald.com/life.

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Sidecar 75

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