The Historic Village Diner in Red Hook, New York

We drove into town with the sound of Simon and Garfunkel singing They've all gone to look for America. Could you find an icon more American than the symmetrical grouping on the embossed paper placemat: the imitation ironstone with the two brown stripes, the stamped stainless steel cutlery, the precise arrangement of four toast triangles (margarine subsiding into its crevices), the crackling bacon strips and the yielding mound of pale yellow scrambled eggs?

This is the Historic Village Diner in Red Hook, New York, one of the last remaining Silk City Diners made by the Paterson Vehicle Company of Paterson, New Jersey. Local legend would make it the fourth oldest diner in the U.S. Originally opened as the Halfway Diner in nearby Rhinebeck, it is believed by many to date to 1927, but in fact was fabricated in 1951.

Nonetheless, it's a beautifully arrested moment in time that recalls a period when New York's Taconic Parkway was peppered with sleek bulletlike eateries whose modern lines evoked for highway travellers the allure of rail travel. The interior is comforting and cocoonlike, yet also reminiscent of a medical facility with its clean stainless steel, glass and tile surfaces. Here, consolation takes the form of simplicity itself, a recipe that likely predates the age of the automobile by many, many decades: an eggy breakfast muffin stuffed with cranberries.

On this particular morning, bright-eyed Bard students address their hearty breakfast sandwich, or the waffles, or the biscuit with sausage gravy in a farewell ritual shared with the middle-aged parents, step-parents, aunts and uncles who have helped to haul the books and plants, computers and guitars up pitiless staircases to blank dorm rooms before the road trip, short or long, back to the family home and the start of the new academic year. A familiar ritual, repeated over decades in untold variations, and solemnized with a ritual meal: hot restorative coffee, perfect toast, perfect eggs.

Gigi Trattoria in Rhinebeck, New York

The area around Poughkeepsie, New York is not best known as a culinary destination, but it has a thriving Italian food scene, much of it pretty good, though unpretentious. While my brother and I were returning my nephew to Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson over the past few days, we took a side trip to Rhinecliff to visit Gigi Trattoria, widely known as a significant cut above the regional average.

Owner and chef Laura Pensiero, whom I had the pleasure of meeting briefly, is developing her own school of "Hudson Valley Mediterranean" cooking (she has a cookbook by that same name). It's traditional Italian, but based very much on farm produce from around the lush, misty Hudson River valley, setting of such literary classics as The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Last of the Mohicans.

Gigi is casual but gently upscale; the crowd looked like tenured professors from the college, with perhaps a few junketing Mahattanites. These cell-phone pics don't do justice to the presentation, but I left my real camera in the car; it was pouring rain; we had been driving for most of 13 hours, and the restaurant was closing in 45 minutes, so I went with what I had. We started by sharing a gorgeous bread basket – a selection of home-baked slices including a dark bread stuffed with black olives, and served with a rich green olive oil – and Insalata Stagione, with crisp fresh greens from nearby Sky Farm, notably including arugula and tiny flashes of dill, all lightly dressed with a Sherry-Shallot Vinaigrette.

This is my small order of Panzotti Primavera, ravioli filled with wild greens and ricotta, with Grana Padana cheese and a fresh sage butter sauce that was so buttery and glossy you could have convinced me it was actually a Béarnaise sauce. I was hoping to get my hands on some interesting New York wines on this flying visit, but Gigi has no local wine on the menu, so I consoled myself with a Nemean Moschofilero ("Mountain Sun", Semeli, Nemea, Greece, 2008), whose not-too-sweet floweriness went deliciously with the fresh green flavour of the pasta. (I really like the white wines from Nemea and Santorini, and wish more were available in Toronto restaurants.)

My brother had a small order of traditional Penne Arrabbiata (above). The pasta in both dishes was delightfully fresh and chewy. My brother loved the subtle herbal seasoning of his Arrabbiata; he said it was spicier than he expected, but not too hot.

My nephew has a classic Margherita pizza with an exceptional, delectably thin flatbread crust. We finished by sharing a generous Sontuoso, described as a "dark chocolate pot de crème with fresh mint sorbet". Garnished with a fresh leaf, the sorbet was icy, crumbly, and so strongly infused that my brother remarked it was more like medicine than a dessert – in a good way. The creamy chocolate was indeed very dark, almost without sugariness. A stunning combination for a meal finish. The whole meal was $85, including tax and tip.

Gigi also runs a seasonal farmers' market and café on Greig Farm in nearby Red Hook, New York, promoting local growers and bakers in a relaxed rural ambiance.

Those who don't travel in the US very often may need to be reminded that real food made with lots of fresh vegetables that's not over-salted, over-sugared, running with commercial fats and served in giant indigestible portions is harder to come by in the States than in Canada, so it's doubly pleasant to find such deft, careful cuisine in a modest setting. That having been said, Canada could take a lesson from the New York highway system, where every dreadful roadside rest stop seems to have a mini-farmers' market set up with fresh fruit in season, as well as local honey or maple syrup. Crisp New York apples make for much better on-the-road munching than the amusing but awful Ho Hos and Ding Dongs.

Apples to Oysters Author Margaret Webb Will Read at Ontario Farmland Trust Event

On Saturday September 26 from 1 to 3 p.m., author Margaret Webb (Apples to Oysters) joins Lorenz Eppinger of Greenfields Organic Farm, Martin de Groot of Mapleton's Organic Dairy and Fred de Martines of Perth Pork Products for a discussion called The Food We Need Now - A Celebration of Great Ontario Farming, in support of the Ontario Farmland Trust, which works to promote the protection of farmland in Ontario. It will be held at The Bookshelf E bar (44 Quebec Street in Guelph, 519-824-4120, extension 52686).

Webb will read from and sign copies of her book Apples to Oysters. A Food Lover's Tour of Canadian Farms. There will be music from Jason Pfeiffer, Steafan Hannigan and Saskia Tomkins, plus appetizers and samples of Mapleton's Ice Cream. The event is free, with a suggested donation of $10 to benefit the Ontario Farmland Trust. RSVP via email.

The photo shows a Niagara farm stand encountered on the way back from my two-day, 1,500-kilometre whirlwind driving trip through the US. More on that later.

#Foodiemeet, an Ontario Wine Tasting with Cheese Pairings at Cafe Taste

Last night a gathering of perhaps 40 pleasant people met at Cafe Taste (1330 Queen West at Brock, 416-536-7748) to sample Canadian cheese and Ontario wine. It was the second "#Foodiemeet" organized by Andrea Chiu (@TOfoodie on Twitter) and Suresh Doss (@spotlightcity), and it was really laid-back, low-attitude and enjoyable. You can compare my notes with those of Andrea the Gastronaut.

To open, author Kathryn Borel (also of CBC Radio's Q), read a little bit of her new book, Corked, about getting to know her wine connoisseur father on a tasting trip in France. There were some raffle prizes (including books from Simon & Schuster). Then Cafe Taste owner Jeremy Day took the floor to introduce five wine-and-cheese pairings, and to make the point that only wines labelled VQA are true Ontario wines. (The phrase "cellared in Ontario" means the grapes were shipped from elsewhere.) All the pairings were all exceptionally well chosen: tasty as well as interesting. I had only tried two of the cheeses before, and none of the wines, which were as follows:

• Calamus Estate Gewürtzraminer 2007 (Jordan, about $13 through the winery) with Le Riopelle de l'Isle, a triple-creme cheese from Quebec. The wine was, as Day said, "packed with lychee and honey". The cheese, he explained, comes from cows whose pasture is marshy, so it offers a faintly green, aquatic taste along with a strong Brie-style flavour.
• Chateau des Charmes Gamay Noir "Droit" (Niagara, $16.95 at LCBO) with Le Douanier, a prize-winning rind-washed Quebec cheese. The Droit is a grape mutation exclusive to Chateau des Charmes. It had an odd, unexpected natural-gas aura that had people asking whether the bottle was perhaps off at first, but after it had been opened a little longer, it seemed to become more raisiny, with suggestions of cherries or even Concord grapes. The cheese has an ash line through the middle, and the milk used in the two layers comes from different times of day (morning, evening). We thought perhaps we could taste that one half was nuttier and firmer, with the other softer and less strong. Or maybe not.
• Fielding Estate Winery Red Conception (Beamsville Bench, about $19 through the winery), which is a blend of eight different grapes. For the record, these are Pinot Noir (29%), Cabernet Franc (25%), Cabernet Sauvignon (22%), Merlot (8%), Syrah (6%), Aglianico (4%), Sangiovese (4%) and Chardonnay (2%), with Le Baluchon, a favourite of mine, a strongish, raw Quebec cheese. The group really liked this wine, which was woody, plummy, rich and smooth.
• Legends Estates Winery Malbec (Beamsville Bench, couldn't spot a price) with Le Clandestin, a sheep-cow mixture from Quebec. This is the only Ontario Malbec. It's peppery, dark and strong, and was wonderful with this soft, almost chalky or crumbly meltingly rich cheese that tasted herbal, like trampled grass in a field (which, I suppose, is what it's made of), with almost a cocoa or coconut sweetness.
• Sandbanks Estate Winery Baco Noir (Prince Edward County, $14.95 at LCBO) with a two-year-old white cheddar from Jensen Cheese, between Kingston and Belleville. This wine tastes like what I imagined wine would taste like when I was a child. Day described it as "juicy", and it truly does have a gentle thirst-quenching low-tannin, low-acid, low-alcohol taste, yet it's full and rich and satisfying. I will certainly look for this at my local LCBO, and soon!

Cafe Taste is booking seats for a wine tasting tour of Prince Edward County for Sunday, September 6, including lunch and dinner, four winery visits and an air-conditioned bus (with washroom) for $170. Having seen their passion for local wine, I'm anxious to go; I expect it will be a true eye-opener.

Slow Cooker Comfort Food by Judith Finlayson

I think of slow cookers (which I know by the brand name of Crock Pot) as labour-saving devices, so I would have expected a book called Slow Cooker Comfort Food to be full of recipes that call for little more than 15 minutes of chopping and eight hours of simmering. But Canadian author Judith Finlayson already has eight cookbooks under her belt, of which five deal with slow cookers (one is designed specifically for diabetics), so Slow Cooker Comfort Food is at a whole other level of sophistication.

Finlayson’s range will please cosmopolitan types who want to experiment off the Joy of Cooking-style Euro-American food map; the book includes plausible recipes for Chicken Pho (Vietnamese soup); congee (Asian rice soup); Thai-Style Red Curry Tomato Soup; Harira with Chicken (a variation on the hearty Moroccan soup served at the end of Ramadan, which is normally based on lamb), and Caribbean Oxtails. Despite the meat-and-potatoes image of “comfort food”, 50 of the recipes are specifically tagged as “vegan-friendly”, and numerous others are noted as being vegetarian.

This international focus has its down side, though. I might normally test at least one recipe before offering an opinion about a cookbook, but when I looked through to find something I felt like trying, I discovered that almost every recipe would necessitate a shopping trip outside the neighbourhood for one offbeat ingredient. (How many of these do you have in your pantry right now: harissa, Mexican crema, Thai red curry paste, Aleppo pepper, cremini mushrooms? If you do have them, run and get this book!) This having been said, there don’t seem to be any particularly difficult or fussy instructions, beyond certain stages where you have to watch the pot and add new ingredients at timed intervals.

The other reason I didn’t cook anything out of the book is that, of a total 275 recipes, 116 call for large (4- to 8-quart) oval cookers, with most of these in the 5-quart range. To my disappointment, almost all the baking and dessert recipes call for larger cookers than the one I own, which is about the size and shape of a paint can. Otherwise, I would certainly have tried out the Cranberry Orange Bread, the Blueberry Corn Bread, the Chile-Spiked Chocolate Pots, the New York-Style Cheesecake or, most exciting of all to my mind, the traditional steamed Christmassy puddings like the Gingery Orange Sticky Pudding.

However, as someone used to following recipes, I can attest that these are well laid out, clearly explained and delectably illustrated. The book lies flat on the counter, a plus when your hands are messy, and the pages are thick and sturdy enough to withstand splatters. One tiny quibble: the table of contents lists only broad categories; if you want to scan the list of recipes and don’t know what to look for in the index, you have to flip through the book to find the contents of each section. A colour-coded section tab system would have been nice.

Finlayson gives some great advice in her introduction. She discusses browning meat first, using whole spices, and reducing the amount of liquid when using a slow cooker compared to other cooking methods. She offers tips on certain ingredients that should only be added at the end, on making smaller batches and on using other cookware (like springform pans) inside a slow cooker. Especially valuable, she also describes a simple test to determine whether the slow cooker is keeping food hot enough to prevent bacteria from thriving in it; this could be very important for anyone cooking with an older model or a garage-sale acquisition.

Final analysis: Slow Cooker Comfort Food is not the best resource for a harried working parent trying to hurl nourishing food onto the table three times a day, seven days a week. Because of the complexity and diversity of the recipes, as well as the fairly large quantities, it would be a great choice for a curious young cook planning to entertain in a first apartment. Better yet, this book (along with a big oval slow cooker, of course!) would make a fabulous wedding present for an adventurous yet domestic couple who’d like to try a new recipe every week.

Slow Cooker Comfort Food, 275 Soul-Satisfying Recipes by Judith Finlayson (Robert Rose Inc., 2009) ISBN 978-0-7788-0224-2

Udupi Palace Spicy Dosa Eating Contest Winner (@udupipalaceTO)

Yesterday, South Indian vegetarian restaurant Udupi Palace (1460 Gerrard East) held their second annual Spicy Dosa Eating Contest to benefit SickKids. Here, winner Neilank Jha from Toronto (left) chats with guest emcee Jack Layton.

At right is a friend whom Jha referred to as his "coach", who informed me that Jha took the contest pretty seriously, prepping with special meals and no alcohol for 24 hours ahead of time, spending the morning at the gym and strategizing his approach right up until the last minute. Clearly, it paid off.

Making Apple Jelly From an Urban Tree

This is about as local as food gets; I got permission from my neighbours to pick enough of the apples that grow in their front yard to make jelly. It's an easy but time-consuming process.

Chop up the apples, leaving skins and cores on if you like, and not worrying too much about bruises or insect damage. For every full pound of apples, put ¾ cup of water in a pot, with half a cinnamon stick, two or three cloves and a thumb's worth of sliced ginger. Feel free to vary the spices. I used four pounds of apples; you get about five small- to medium-sized apples per pound.

Bring the water, apples and spices to the boil and then turn the heat way down and let the mixture simmer until the apples have broken down. Then you hang the hot pulp over a bowl in cheesecloth or a wide-weave dish towel and let the juice drip into a bowl. (Tip: wet the cloth with water first so it doesn't soak up a lot of valuable juice.)

The dripping process can literally take all night; allow eight to twelve hours. However, you must resist the urge to squeeze the cloth bag to hurry it up; this will make the jelly cloudy. When you think it's done, measure the liquid, and add 1 pound of sugar for every 2½ cups of juice. Combine them in a pot and boil gently until setting point is reached, then pour into sterilized jars and process to seal them, as described in my post about making raspberry jam.

You can eat apple jelly on toast; it's also lovely as a condiment with sharp cheddar cheese or roast lamb.

Chicken Tikka on Gerrard Street

This delectable chicken tikka from Chandni Chowk (1430 Gerrard East) is among the many things you missed if you didn't get to the Gerrard India Bazaar Festival of South Asia this weekend... You have until 11 p.m. tonight to catch a taste.

By the way, check out the serious iron skewers!

Plum-Walnut Conserve for Christmas (!)

This may seem like rushing the season crazily, but I spent part of today putting up gorgeous Victorian preserves that will probably end up as Christmas presents. However, the first time I ever made traditional fruitcake, I joked with the lady behind the counter at the LCBO (where I went to buy the rum, of course) that I felt I was thinking too far ahead – it might have been late October – whereupon she rather meanly retorted that if one hadn't begun by Labour Day it was already too late. Some things just take time.

In any case, when better to put up plums than when they're in at the farmers' markets, attracting lazy wasps with the humid sweetness on those beautiful dark skins with their powdery bloom? The mixture includes plums, seedless raisins and sliced limes, combined with a generous mound of sugar. When it gels, you add chopped walnuts and a lashing of rum, then let it sit for a few minutes before ladling it into the jars. The tastes I tried were ridiculously good; I can only imagine what the pungent citrus and rum will do with the rich tart fruit and concentrated raisin flavours over the next four months.

Oh yes, and I made up another small batch of Ontario raspberry jam, which is really my favourite of the summer fruits, as well as a necessity for certain types of cakes. About which perhaps, more later. Below, my harvest for the day: 24 jars. The count mounts up so nicely when you use the small jars!

Bayaaynatu – A Vegetarian Feast at Ethiopian House

Ethiopian food blossomed on the Toronto scene back in the early '80s, especially with the 1983 opening of the Queen of Sheba (1051 Bloor West, 416-536-4162). All the impoverished, hungry students like me soon grew enamoured of these tasty – and frequently vegetarian – meals, served up on an edible plate of cool, spongy injera, the bread made of fermented teff flour.

I don't know why it's taken me so long to get around to visiting Ethiopian House (4 Irwin Street, just east of Yonge between Bloor and Wellesley, 416-923-5438). Now I've been there, I see why so very many people have told me it's great. My friend Robyn and I ordered their vegetarian bayaaynatu – which seems to translate as "a little bit of everything" – for two. We ate on the cheerfully bustling patio. We stayed and chatted for four hours, with no pressure to hurry along.

Seen in the picture above are (starting from the noon position and moving clockwise, if I've got this right): tikil goman (cabbage, potato and carrot with turmeric), sherro wot (chickpeas with a subtly spiced berbere sauce), yekik alicha (yellow split peas with turmeric), kik wot (split peas with more berbere sauce), misir wot (lentils, also with berbere sauce), misir alicha (split lentil stew), atakelt wot (string beans, carrots and potatoes in a tomato sauce) and goman wot (collard greens). They're ranged around a simple green salad.

To the lower left of the image, you can see a plate of extra injera. You rip a little bit off and fold a mouthful of food into it; no knives, forks or spoons. We were foolhardy and ordered an appetizer called senig karia, a whole crisp jalapeño pepper split and stuffed with finely chopped tomatoes and onion. It was right at the top of my fire-tolerance range. Thank goodness for the beer, a sweet and malty – almost molasses-flavoured – Ethiopian brew called, pleasingly, Meta Beer.

These distinct and distinctive tastes were accentuated occasionally by a heady swirl of frankincense smoke as someone ordered the Ethiopian coffee, which takes half an hour to prepare: a delightfully sensual combination of impressions. By the end of the meal, between the pleasure of the mingled tastes and the rows of painted angels that embellish the patio walls, I was thinking that Ethiopian House is one version of Food Heaven. All in, we paid about $25 each.

Australian Wine Tasting and Interview on Sustainable Viniculture

Last Tuesday, August 18, Wine Australia invited an assortment of journalists to Sassafraz Restaurant to get to know Australian wine better at a tasting of more than 50 modestly priced wines (most will cost between $12 and $25 retail).

For me, one of the most interesting parts of the afternoon was the chance to talk to Andrew Buttery, Managing Director of Gemtree Vineyards of McLaren Vale, South Australia. Gemtree is among the approximately 10% of Australia’s wine growers who are trying to cultivate the vineyards as sustainably as possible, employing biodynamic techniques.

What are biodynamics, I ask. “It’s not witchcraft; it’s not voodoo,” says Buttery. “We felt we were already farming sustainably, and we wanted to move to a new level. To keep the weeds under control, we’re using about 140 sheep in winter, and under-vine mulching in summer.”

Gemtree also uses composted cow manure in ionized water for irrigation and fertilizing, and plants a permanent cover crop like rye grass in the mid-rows to minimize watering, improve the soil and encourage earthworm activity. In addition, Gemtree has set aside 25 of its 330 acres as a natural area that can be used for educational visits. “Four frog species have returned to the site,” Buttery says proudly.

“The essence of biodynamics is unlocking the vines’ potential through improving the quality of the soil. High humus levels hold water and free up nutrients.” Don't some of these techniques represent a return to more old-fashioned methods? “It’s back to the future,” he agrees, “But with modern technologies. For example, we’re using aerial photography to identify inconsistency in the soil.

“In the ‘70s and ‘80s, people were sold on the idea of herbicides and pesticides. They got hooked on it like a drug,” he continues. “Particularly when we’re farming large areas, it’s an easier approach. But there’s been a movement, especially with the smaller vineyards; in the last three to five years we’re starting to see a swing away." Buttery mentions that parts of New Zealand, the Burgundy region in France and certain California wineries are also experimenting with biodynamics.

“It’s definitely the way of the future,” he says. “We’re third-generation grape growers and first-generation winemakers, and we want to leave the land in a better state than we found it.”

Gemtree was sampling three wines at the event:

• Gemtree Vineyards Moonstone Albariño 2008 – “We can’t call it “Albariño” anymore,” admits Buttery (the Australians have a cheeky habit of borrowing existing names for their wines, somewhat to the annoyance of Old World growers). “It’s going to be released as Moonstone Traminer in Australia and Savagnin in the rest of the world. It’s one of our first wines, 100% biodynamically grown and naturally fermented with wild yeast. It’s actually an unfiltered white wine, a cross between Riesling and Pinot grigio.” It's very pale and not at all sweet, with a gentle strength. In LCBO October 24, $23.90
• Gemtree Vineyards Bloostone Shiraz Viognier 2008 – “It’s 95% Shiraz and 5% Viognier,” Buttery says. “We wanted to make a Shiraz that was a bit more perfumed and feminine. The Viognier gives it that, but it still has a generous mouth feel, those bright red fruits.” It has a dark raspberry colour and a scent of mixed raspberries and strawberries, with a taste of blueberries, red currants and possibly cinnamon. It can apparently age at least six years. In LCBO November 7, kind of a good deal at $17.30
• Gemtree Vineyards Citrine Chardonnay 2008 – “It’s named after the gemstone,” Buttery explains. “We make this wine a bit differently; 30% goes into French oak barrels that are stirred every day, and 70% is fermented in stainless steel. After three months we combine the two. We pick it a bit early in the vineyard, trying to get a crisper, cleaner style of Chardonnay, closer to aromatic Rieslings and Sauvignon blancs.” Sadly, I couldn’t find a bottle to try. In LCBO October 24, $17.30

Here are some of the other wines I sampled, with notes. (Bear in mind that I'm no wine expert, just someone who likes wine and knows her fruit flavours well from making a lot of jam. By the way, I thought it was interesting that the Shirazes got less berryish and more peppery as they got more expensive.)

PINK SPARKLING WINES
(These are so popular at parties these days!)

• Yellow Tail Bubbles Rose NV: Made from Semillon, Traminer, Shiraz and Frontenac grapes. Smells faintly of rose petals, tastes flowery but sharp. On LCBO General List, $13.95
• Yellowglen Pink NV: Made from Pinot and Chardonnay grapes. A pretty straw-pink with a very faint aroma. Very frothy, with a faint grapefruit taste. On LCBO General List, $12.95

SHIRAZ

• X&Y Wines Shiraz 2004: Colour: Ruby. Smells like raspberries, with a smoky raspberry flavour. In LCBO December 5, $15.95
• Jacob’s Creek Reserve Shiraz 2006: Can age. Dark red colour, full raspberry scent with raspberry and cinnamon taste. On LCBO General List, $16.95
• George Wyndham Founder’s Reserve Shiraz 2005: Colour: Dark raspberry. Smells like raspberries and blackberries. Tastes slightly tanninish, with a fairly rich berry taste and perhaps a faint hint of mint. Giftpack with George Wyndham Shiraz Tempranilla 2007 in LCBO for the 2009-2010 holiday season, $39.95
• St. Hallett Barossa Blackwell Shiraz 2006: Colour: Dark ruby. Smells less fruity, more herbal. Peppery taste; not very tanniny, with eucalyptus, rosemary and coffee. In LCBO October 10, $29.95
• Mitolo G.A.M. Shiraz 2007: Colour: Rich red. Tastes of dark blackberries and pepper. In Vintages, $46.95

SHIRAZ BLENDS

• Yalumba Y Series Shiraz Viognier 2007: Colour: Blackberry. Smells like plums, tastes peppery. In Vintages, $15.95
• George Wyndham Shiraz Tempranilla 2007: A pretty raspberry colour. Smells fruity and minerally, with strawberries and raspberries; the taste is of strawberries and balsamic. See George Wyndham Founder’s Reserve Shiraz 2005, above, for price.
• Kangarilla Road McLaren Vale Shiraz Viognier 2006: Colour: Dark blackberry. Tastes less peppery, more balsamic. In LCBO Fall 2009, $29.95
• Penfields Bin 389 Cabernet Shiraz: Colour: Clear ruby. Smells like cinnamon, pepper, strawberry, raspberry and vanilla. Tastes pleasantly tanniny, with vanilla, rosemary and red currant. In LCBO December 5, $37.95
• Penfolds St. Henri Shiraz 2005: 90% Shiraz and 10% Cabernet Sauvignon. Colour: Dark raspberry-plum. Smells like pepper, strawberries and blueberries. Tastes very peppery, with a great tannin mouth feel, licourice, Kalamata olives and cinnamon. In Vintages, $75
• Wolf Blass Black Label Cabernet-Shiraz 2005: Colour: Deep red. Smells like blackberries. Tastes peppery, with a pleasant rich, tanniny fullness. In LCBO for the winter holidays, $109.95

CABERNET SAUVIGNON

• Red Knot Cabernet Sauvignon 2007: Colour: Dark ruby. Smells like raspberries and blackberries. Very faint chocolate taste. (Couldn’t find a price or release date.)
• Wynns Coonawarra Cabernet Sauvignon 2006: Colour: Rich cranberry red. A dark raspberry/strawberry scent. Tastes like strawberry with a hint of catmint. In LCBO January 2010, $24.95
• Vasse Felix Estate Cabernet Sauvignon 2007: One of my favourites. Colour: True blueberry, from purple red to almost indigo, with a scent and flavour of black currant, black olives, baked apples. In LCBO October 24, $38.95

RIESLING

• Petaluma Hanlin Hill Riesling 2008: Colour: Pale greenish yellow. Tastes minerally, with a little bit of lemongrass. In LCBO December 5, $21.95

How to Get Rid of Fruit Flies

Usually I don't have much trouble getting rid of fruit flies. If I notice a few, it generally means one banana in the bunch on the kitchen counter has gone brown, or perhaps I've dropped half an onion behind the stove. Get rid of the problem, get rid of the flies.

But everyone I've spoken to around town seems to have been left with an unusual overabundance of fruit flies as a legacy of the garbage strike. Now that the last bag of yard waste has left the property, things should start to return to normal. But in the meantime, thanks to my neighbour Zenya for this great tip:

Pour some malt or cider vinegar into a glass. Cover the top with cling wrap and poke a few holes in it. Within a few hours, you'll notice the fruit flies swarming inside it, and eventually succumbing to the lure of the vinegar.

Unlike certain other techniques for getting rid of pests, it doesn't smell bad or have to be cleaned up often or present any special hazard to children or pets. It also won't contaminate other food that may be kept nearby. And it's very effective! I was seeing clouds of fruit flies last week; now we're down to a mere flurry.

Make a Sprouter From a Reused Glass Jar

This is a much simpler way to reuse a soup or pasta-sauce jar than making pickles. Just punch holes in the screw-top lid with a nail. Pour in ¼- to ½-inch of sproutable beans or seeds. Every morning and night, cover the seeds with water, gently swirl them around and pour the water out. In about four to six days – voila! – fresh sprouts.

It is said to be possible for E. coli and salmonella to breed in sprouts, especially alfalfa sprouts. However, I've never experienced any problems with this method. If you're anxious, take these precautions:

• Wash the jar and lid very carefully before using and between uses.
• Rinse the seed carefully before putting it into the jar.
• Be sure there are enough holes in the lid to allow for air circulation.
• Refrigerate the sprouts in a separate container as soon as they're ready to eat (I reuse those plastic clamshell containers that berries come in).
• Trust your nose: if in doubt, throw it out!

Making Escoffier's Apricot Jam

The organic apricot jam I made last week hasn't set properly. I was a bit suspicious when Mrs. Beeton's recipe directed me to cook the fruit "on a moderate heat so the fruit does not break up too much" (a vague directive) and then to place it directly in the jars before thickening the syrup and pouring it on top.

I was worried that all the extra liquid accompanying the fruit would disrupt the setting of the jam, and that's just what happened. Even though the syrup was lovely and thick when I topped up the jars, the final product would best be described as "stewed apricots in heavy syrup".

I think the recipe would work if one cooked the fruit (a) longer or (b) less long, and/or strained it in a sieve before putting it in the jars (a process rather like separating egg yolks, I imagine). However – and with all due respect to Mrs. Beeton – I decided to get our top man on the case. So this week, I tried Escoffier's recipe.

He calls for ¾ cup of sugar and ½ cup of water for every pound of fruit. The apricots are halved, and the kernels removed (more on that later). The sugar and water are combined off the heat. When the sugar has fully dissolved, you boil the syrup for a few minutes, skimming if necessary.

Escoffier explains that the scum can cause the jam to crystallize later. So can sugar from the edges of the pot or the stem of the spoon, if it gets stirred back into the jam. Therefore one must resist the thrifty urge to scrape the sides of the jam pot while it's cooking. When filling the jars, I lift the jam from the centre of the pot with a spoon or ladle. It also doesn't hurt to clean the spoon from time to time.

When the sugar has boiled a few minutes, the apricots are added and the whole is cooked on a moderate heat until it gels, as described in my post on raspberry jam. Escoffier directs you to add the inner "almonds" found inside the apricot kernels as the jars are filled.

The "almonds" actually have an almond taste. As I thought, this is because they contain the poison cyanide. I read up on this a little. Many fruit seeds (apples, peaches, cherries, nectarines, plums) contain cyanide. According to a quick look at a variety of online sources, there seems to be a general consensus that the quantity of seeds required to harm an adult would be very high indeed; however, a child can apparently die from eating the kernels of just 15 apricots.

It seems that heat destroys the enzyme that allows the cyanide to form, but if you have young children in the house, you may wish to skip this part of the recipe. (Before you panic altogether, I might mention that when I was seven or eight I used to eat all my apple seeds, peeled, because I liked the almond taste. It never killed me.)

Escoffier tells us to crack the kernels (I use a very good nutcracker, with the kernels set on edge. I hold it deep in the sink so bits don't go shooting across the kitchen.) You don't have to crush the whole kernel; ideally you'll just crack it slightly so the outer shell falls into two neat pieces,

Escoffier also recommends peeling the "almonds". To do this, use a strainer to immerse them in the boiling water in the canner for a few minutes (because you're sterilizing jars while doing this step, right?) Then the brown skins just slip easily off, and you can also pop them into two neat pieces with your fingers.

Right now, the jars are still warm, and the jam is already thicker than last week's batch (jam does seem to continue to set very slowly for many days after it's sealed). I'm optimistic that this batch will turn out successfully – maybe I can try to make one of those traditional French glazed fruit pies, which classically use apricot preserves, later on this year!

Postscript: After all this, the jar from last week that I sampled today is in the fridge, and since it's chilled it's become much thicker. Go figure.

Making Garlic Dill Pickles

I'm a dill pickle fiend – maybe from growing up in Montreal? – so I can't believe I've never tried this before. I got six pints of organic pickling cucumbers and this gorgeous bouquet of dill at the Withrow Farmer's Market, and worked out the recipe proportions from the book Put a Lid on It! by Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard (the recipe called "Fast Favourite Garlic Dill Pickles".)

You fill two jars from one pint basket of vegetables, it turns out. All you have to do is take a thin slice off the top and bottom, and slice the big ones in halves or quarters. You boil the jars in the canner, and prepare a brine of 1 cup of water to 1 cup of white vinegar to 1 tbsp of preserving salt, which is coarse salt that's available in regular grocery stores. Make as much as you think you'll need, depending how many cukes you buy.

When the brine has come to a boil, you fill each jar with a head of dill, a clove of garlic and as many pickles as will fit, leaving the top ½-inch empty. Then you simply cover the pickles with brine (leaving ½-inch of head room) and process them at boiling point in the canner for 15 minutes. (I have much more detail about sterilizing and processing jars in my piece about making raspberry jam.) I used a sturdy mug and a jam-making funnel to fill the jars, which meant I didn't pour scalding brine all over the place.

The most satisfying part about the whole process (apart from the fact that the dill heads are so lovely) was reusing a dozen mason jars that came with soup or pasta sauce. You can get the replacement snap lids (with or without the screw-on bands) at most hardware stores and even chains like Zellers and Wal-Mart. They're easy to wash, and you can get the labels off quickly in a soapy sink. I feel awful whenever I recycle them. This is much better.

Growing Vegetables in the Front Yard

Beans and vine tomatoes: nice. My neighbour calls this his "salad curtain". Note also the container garden on the roof.

Making Pasta

Okay, I'm not at all Italian, and I've only done this a handful of times in my life, but I'm here to tell you that you too can make pasta. The big secret – as the Hitchhiker's Guide says – is: DON'T PANIC.


If you panic, you are lost, because the very first thing you must do is build a volcano of eggs right on the counter. One handful of flour plus one egg is what you need per person. (I have small hands so I cheat a little.) Make a cone of flour, hollow it out, and then add the eggs in the crater of your little volcano. If it tries to erupt, dam the lava flow with some of the flour.


Fearlessly beat the eggs into the flour with a fork. Be brave! The eggs must not gain the upper hand! Like bread dough, you will start to notice that this proto-pasta begins to feel springy and alive.

When you have kneaded the dough into submission and it's accepted you as its master, flatten it and start feeding it through the pasta maker. Start on the widest setting. Each time you run it through, dust the pasta ribbon lightly with flour, fold it in half and run it through again. When it's smooth and even, proceed to the next (thinner) setting.

Eventually you will have a long smooth band of very thin pasta. Or else you will have a tough, lacy, unco-operative hank of shreds. If so, go back to the previous setting and see whether you can smooth it out again. I can't emphasize enough the part about not panicking.

If you can grow a third hand for this part, it's a good idea, especially if you plan to take pictures as you go. As you can see from this photo, that's what I did. Roll the thin pasta ribbon through one of the cutting sections of the pasta maker. You'll notice that my nice even ribbon of pasta is trying to tear itself apart at one edge, but we didn't panic, and it all worked out just fine.

I have in the past tried to cut all ten feet or so at once. Today I cut the long ribbon into roughly two-foot lengths and that seemed to work quite well. I store the parts I'm not using on a tea towel, draped over the back of a chair. I don't think you can dust it too often with flour; you don't want it to stick together.

See, even a rank amateur who's never even been to Italy can produce edible pasta. It's just a question of having confidence, even in the face of certain disaster. And when you taste it, you'll wonder why you ever ate that hard dry stuff in the box. (I should have taken a picture of the final meal, with Bolognese sauce and Romano cheese, but we ate it all up.)

Cook With Chef Chris Brown at Second "Food for Change" Dinner

Chef Chris Brown of The Stop Community Food Centre has announced plans for the second Food for Change dinner, set to take place on Thursday, August 20 "under the stars in the sheltered garden of The Stop’s Green Barn". Local food aficionados can buy tickets for the dinner only; true devotees can join the kitchen crew and help prepare the meal under the direction of Brown himself, who previously helmed the kitchen at Perigée.

The meal alone is $75, or $120 with wine pairing. Kitchen crew pay $100. All proceeds go to The Stop's programs to fight hunger, build hope and inspire change. To reserve for either cooking or eating, email Danielle or call 416-652-7867, extenion 250.

Here's the August 20 menu:

• Smoked ricotta-stuffed squash blossom over sautéed mushrooms and in-house sprouts
• Local speckled trout poached in a bagna cauda with scrambled eggs and crisp guanciale
• Sweet pea tortellini in an heirloom-tomato consommé with sparkling cider jelly
• Melon and mint intermezzo
• Roasted duck breast with beet root, roasted apricot and balsamic
• Peach cobbler: Peach and honey ice cream over a vanilla tapioca cream and topped with a buttermilk biscuit

Baking Scones

Perhaps M.F.K. Fisher would have understood the beginning of this story. Like so many of hers, although it's partly about food, it's also partly about the mysterious, spontaneous movements of the heart – if that doesn't sound too pretentious.

I was up late last night, working and listening to some Celtic songs on the laptop, when I realized I had to bake scones. Not just to bake them, either, but to eat a little plate of them with a dab of butter and some homemade raspberry jam. (Conveniently enough, I have a fair supply of raspberry jam close at hand.) Having staved off the urge for some time, eventually I decided the thing had to be done. That's when I deciphered the connection between the warm still air, the sweet sad music and the need to bake.

You see, a few years ago my brother Dwight spent a summer dying in a Montreal hospital. We were very close as youngsters, but we had grown pretty far apart by that time. In early August, sensing we didn't have much time left, I took a train down and stayed for a week at the old family home in Montreal. I spent every day at the hospital, talking about childish things and helping him eat and move about. Every night I went to an internet cafe to report to his old friends on how he was, and to let them know what they might be able to do for him.

How quickly we fall into routines! By the second day, I had already marked out one little space in the routine to help me recharge so I could be cheerful and useful to my family. Every morning, I'd go around the corner to the Gryphon, a local tea shop, where I'd sit alone in a sturdy wooden chair and read part of a book of Yeats poetry they had lying around, listening to Celtic music and sipping coffee while eating a plate of their fresh-baked scones with homemade raspberry jam.

The human brain has an oddly straightforward method of linking physical, emotional and spiritual matters. Last night, the feel of the weather and the sound of the music told my subconscious that this is the time of year I last saw my brother alive. It gave my conscious mind the message by forcing me to add the missing component: the taste of the scones with jam. And that's how I remembered.

How to Bake Devonshire Scones

Makes about six – a good way to use up soured milk

1. Preheat the oven to 450F and prepare a floured baking sheet.
2. Sift 1 cup of flour together with 2 tsp baking powder and ¼ tsp salt into a basin.
3. With cool fingertips rub in 1 to 2 tbsp fat (I use butter).
4. Add just enough soured milk or yogurt to make a light, springy dough (about ½ cup, perhaps, but it's best to go by feel). Don't overwork it.
5. As soon as it will hold together, but before it gets sticky, press the dough into a loose ball and turn onto a floured board. Knead it lightly to remove cracks if necessary, roll out lightly about ¾" to 1" thick and cut out rounds with a fluted cutter (if you're lucky enough to have one, or a glass if you're not). You can reroll the leftover bits, but they will be tougher and not quite so pretty, like the third scone in the top picture.
6. Bake near the top of a hot oven on the floured sheets for 7 to 10 minutes; they should be mostly pale golden with just a touch of brown.

For variation, you can add raisins, currants, dried cranberries, chopped apple, a dash of vanilla sugar, a few pinches of chai spice, some lemon zest, or whatever else you like to the mix just before adding the milk. You might choose to glaze with beaten egg or milk, or sprinkle some sugar (or cinnamon sugar) over the tops before baking.

There is a second part to this story.

The recipe I use was taught to me by a friend whom I've not seen for at least 25 years. We spent a good deal of time together in the early '80s, but she was married to a man in the British Foreign Service, and I was about to leave Montreal to pursue graduate studies, so we lost track of each other entirely when she moved back to the UK. But whenever I bake scones, I pull out the tattered old ring-bound notebook where I keep favourite recipes, and I see her name again, and I think of her.

It finally occurred to me last night that, the internet having been invented since last we spoke, I should look her up... with the result that this morning we were on the phone chatting as if a quarter century had not just elapsed. (Her husband got himself an OBE in the meantime; she has a thriving career in kinesiology.)

Is there a point to all this? Maybe that you shouldn't beat yourself up next time you have an irrational impulse relating to food. If you listen hard enough, you may realize you're trying to remind yourself of something important that you've been too rushed and distracted to remember. And if not... well, there's nothing wrong with a batch of fresh-baked scones.

Is the Term Foodie Okay?

Sheryl Kirby of Save Your Fork and Taste TO has caused a little Twitter Flutter by airing her dislike of the term "foodie". At 10:10, as @TasteTO, she tweeted: "Never found a proper word to replace 'foodie' but I think it shall go the way of 'boite' and 'resto' and will become verboten on our site". Then at 10:12, as @saveyourfork, she posted "Have banned the term 'foodie' from TasteTO - need better alternatives that are not lame or pretentious." A flurry of responses arrived, many from people who not only use the term, but use it in their Twitter monikers and site names.

Now I've never liked "resto" or "boite" much, but I find "foodie" inoffensive enough, and at least clear. I would myself use it disparagingly, to describe someone who was tiresome or pedantic about their food enthusiasm (like those people who in the '80s simply wouldn't shut up about pine nuts and pesto). I'd also use it humorously and self-deprecatingly to refer to myself, for instance, as in "I'm afraid I'm a total foodie".

We already have a few perfectly good words that convey similar meaning, like "gastronomer", "gastronome", "epicure", "gourmet" and "gourmande" – although that last carries the connotation of "glutton" – as well as phrases like "food connoisseur", "food aficionado", "food buff" or "food enthusiast". I suppose the first five have become slightly outmoded, or tarnished with a mildly derogatory flavour, as specialized words are wont to do. The others are a bit unwieldy.

If I were forced to choose (which, thank heaven, I'm not), I might go for "epicure" or "food buff", depending on the context. If we're thinking of making up an entirely new word, I humbly submit "Brillat" (to be pronounced "bree-yat"), in honour of the excellent Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, and kind of on the analogy of "Baldwin".

If you've ever read the part in his 1825 book Physiologie du goût about how he was given a giant fish to cook, and how he went all over the house trying to find something big enough to cook it in (pronouncing at intervals "This fish will not be cut!"), you know how quirky and curious and funny and passionate he was about cooking and eating... that he was, in short, a true foodie – in the best sense of the word.

Photo: Engraving of Brillat-Savarin, from title page of an 1848 edition of Physiologie du goût, Wikimedia Commons.

Bánh Xèo – Vietnamese Pancakes on Gerrard East

Every once in a while I worry that maybe I've tried every kind of food that you can get in a Toronto restaurant. But I'm invariably reminded that there's an endless universe of food in this city. Yesterday, Jonathan and I had our first bánh xèo (rough pronunciation: "bun tsyo").

The waiter (owner?) at Bach Yen (788 Gerrard East, 647-347-8160) seemed pleased that we wanted to try it, and explained that it's a pancake made of rice flour with turmeric and coconut milk but no eggs. (I suppose you could request vegan stuffings.)

It's fried in a small amount of oil, and stuffed with minced pork, shrimp and bean sprouts. He served it with a little bowl of fish sauce and a hot pepper condiment. After we'd started to eat it, he came back and kindly explained that Vietnamese people usually use a lettuce leaf to wrap it up with the fixings (mint, basil, carrots, sauces and so on) – sort of a roll within a roll. "Of course," he added generously, "You can eat it the way you're doing now."

We also shared a bowl of phở (noodle soup) and some summer rolls (cold rice rolls with lettuce and shrimp) – what a meal! – for about $20, all in.

Food Movies and Women

In the 2006 edition of her ongoing Celluloid Ceiling study, San Diego University professor Martha Lauzen showed that only 7% of the year's 250 top-grossing films were directed by women, and that only 10% of these films had women writers. So I find it interesting that, of the nine truly food-related films* I mentioned in my top-ten best food movies post, 33% were directed by women, and 78% had women in key writing roles, as follows.

• Julie and Julia: Written and directed by Nora Ephron, based on a book by Julie Powell
• Woman on Top: Directed by Fina Torres, written by Vera Blasi
• Babette's Feast: Based on a book by Karen Blixen
• Bella Martha: Written and directed by Sandra Nettelbeck
• Chocolat: Based on a novel by Joanne Harris
• Como agua para chocolate: Adaptation by Laura Esquivel from her own novel
• The Mistress of Spices: Screenplay cowritten by Gurinder Chadha (Bend It Like Beckham)

Not sure exactly what that tells us, but I'm now hoping for full-on food movies by Sofia Coppola, Sarah Polley and Deepa Mehta.

Oops! I speak too soon! I see that Mehta's got an upcoming project called Cooking With Stella, cowritten with her sister Dilip, who directs. It's about a Canadian chef who learns about life while studying South Indian cooking from an embassy cook who's a mistress of creative financing.

* Ratatouille and Sideways were the exceptions. Goodfellas and The Truth About Cats and Dogs aren't really food movies – although the latter was written by a woman.

Ashbridges Eco Community Garden

If all goes well, next spring I'll be weeding and digging in Ashbridges Eco Community Garden, very close to where I live. I've already got a list: garlic, onions, hyssop, lavender, rosemary, thyme, basil, maybe dill (although it has a tendency to run) and of course tomatoes. Doubtless this list will change 1,001 time before next March.

I'm also thinking of transplanting the garlic chives, the yellow tea rose and the peony that no longer bloom in my backyard since the trees closed over.

Much food for thought. Literally.

What Is Laura Ling's Special Soup?

When American journalists Euna Lee and Laura Ling arrived back from imprisonment in North Korea the other day, Al Gore mentioned that Ling's mother had been making her "special soup for two days now.”

Remembering what my Singaporean friend Jennifer has told me about grannies and aunties of Chinese descent brewing up congee for family members at the first signs of illness, I thought that might be what he meant. After all, congee requires immense amounts of simmering time for the rice to break down into that comforting sludge. However, the NY Times quotes Ling's mother Mary as calling it a "special herbal Chinese soup". Any thoughts?

Image by kevinrosseel, Morguefile

Julie and Julia Movie Reactions

Okay, so I just got back from Julie and Julia, rather pleasantly surprised. It was fun to see Meryl Streep do her head-on Julia Child impersonation for a couple of hours. I enjoyed all those scenes of French kitchens, and New Look dresses, and food, food food.

But I have a quibble or maybe a query for the set dressers. Tell me, please, exactly how many donations Julie Powell was receiving via her Paypal button? 'Cause I was salivating over her kitchen utensils in the film, particularly that flame-coloured Le Creuset dutch oven. You know, this one:

I happen to know for a certainty that one of those bad boys will set you back a cool $300 plus tax. And on the rack opposite the stove I thought I saw one or two more. The plates in the final dinner scene look restaurant quality to me (albeit '90s vintage). Plus those knives she was waving around didn't look like they came in no Crackerjack box, if you know what I mean.

So I want to know whether Julie Powell actually managed to assemble such a pricy set of kitchen tools before starting her project, whether her fans paid for it, or whether it was just filmmakers' fantasy like the giant spider in the Harry Potter movies and girls who are shorter than Tom Cruise. (Enquiring minds also want to know whether they used two different ones, or whether it was the same one in both "Julie's" and "Julia's" kitchen.)

I do notice that Katey Rich at CinemaBlend got her hands on the same colour and model when she recreated the Julie/Julia experiment for one meal. Which leads me to the next question: am I the only one who's missing out on all the Le Creuset bargain sales? (And here I thought I was so smart spotting one half off at Winner's...)

By the way, you can also see a fortune in Le Creuset on the stove in the newest Woody Allen movie Whatever Works. It's a nice pale gold colour.

Top Ten Best Food Movies

In honour of Julie and Julia, I decided to compile my own top-ten list of favourite food movies, or at least favourite food moments in film, more or less in order.

1. Woman on Top (2000): Brazilian sea goddess Yemanja grants supernatural cooking ability to Penélope Cruz, but the gift comes with strings attached. Foodporn payoff: New uses for malagueta peppers = extraordinarily hot. (Note: image above is not a malagueta; they're sexier!)
2. Babette's Feast (1987). In a remote Danish village, Stéphane Audran teaches two kindly and pious elderly ladies that indulgence can be as much a spiritual act as self-denial. Foodporn payoff: The quails en sarcophage.
3. Bella Martha (2001, English title: Mostly Martha). A rigid chef recovers from crushing grief and learns new appreciation of food, life, love when she takes in her dead sister’s orphaned child. Foodporn payoff: Martha’s meticulous mise-en-place and plate primping. Reheated in 2007 as No Reservations (2007) with Catherine Zeta-Jones, Aaron Eckhart (Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight) and Abigail Breslin.
4. Ratatouille (2007). An unlikely chef cooks up fame and fortune in a Paris bistro. Foodporn payoffs: The animated interpretation of a great food experience, and the ripped-off-from-Proust’s-madeleines moment.
5. Chocolat (2000). Juliette Binoche has a magical knack for chocolates, which polarizes residents of a formerly tranquil French village. Foodporn payoffs: Fleeting shots of chocolate being tempered with an offset spatula on a marble slab, Binoche finger-feeding truffles to Johnny Depp.
6. Como agua para chocolate (1992. English title: Like Water for Chocolate). Lumi Cavazos is a jilted sister whose emotions get cooked right into her food. Foodporn payoff: I really like that stone grinder.

7. Sideways (2004): Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church take a pre-nuptial road trip through the Napa Valley. Food porn payoff: The pinot noir speech.
8. The Mistress of Spices (2005) Aishwarya Rai is bound to help others with her magic spices, but when she meets Dylan McDermott, she develops an appetite to live her own life. Foodporn payoff: The shop itself: so many spices! (By the way: don't try this hot-pepper bed thing at home, folks.)

9. Goodfellas (1990). Ray Liotta grows up in the underworld. Foodporn payoff: The imprisoned kingpin slicing that garlic soooo thin.
10. The Truth About Cats and Dogs (1996): Janeane Garofalo’s smart and Uma Thurman’s pretty; when they meet, they both grow a little. Foodporn payoff: When starved model Uma finally eats some of those creamy cakes.

Honourable mentions:

• The bakery in Moonstruck
• The feasts in the Great Hall in the Harry Potter movies
• Oprah baking biscuits in Beloved
• The Baudelaire orphans' pasta puttanesca in Lemony Snicket
• The cakes in Marie Antoinette
• And finally: absolutely any depiction of an Italian-style plein-air family meal involving a trestle table with a white tablecloth