The Making of a Foodie - Our GF Weekend Extravaganza

"Let's go to Kingsland Farmer's Market today", says Shauna yesterday, having heard from her increasing network of celiac and food-conscious friends in Calgary that this place is apparently chockablock with vendors that know what celiac disease is, and what it does to people, and most importantly, how wonderful it is to come across something which you can eat with abandon and not worry once, about any bite going in your mouth threatening to incapacitate you for the next four days.

This was new for me.  I have always been on the hunt for what tastes good.  I figured - what the heck?  Not only might we find a GF biscuit or two that will make Shauna's tummy happy, but I might get some interesting tastes in besides.  But when I saw tears in her eyes as she sampled the shiitake cream of mushroom soup, followed by the exquisite red velvet almond macarons, the Saskatoon berry compote, the Spolumbo's chicken and apple sausage with fresh tomato sauce, the fresh free-range grilled pork farmer's sausage, the Thai green curry on jasmine rice, and the tuscan olive salad - every bite gluten-free, and every bite (as I herewith confirm to be true) absolutely, unbeatably and undeniably as delicious as anything I have ever tasted anywhere else....I witnessed, right before my very eyes, the birth of a new foodie.

Her eyes shone as someone walked past her, carrying a plate of roasted root vegetables with herbs.  She asked that total stranger, ever so politely, if she would mind telling her where she got that.  She gasped audibly at the concept of meat-filled, AND ricotta-filled canneloni - and doubly so when the proprietor of that stall promised that his gluten-free pasta is better than anything we've ever tasted.  If it wasn't, he laid a free lasagne on the line - come back, say you didn't like it as much as the old wheat pasta, and the lasagne is yours.  We bought one of each.  And gnocchi!  Wheat-free gnocchi - pillows of love!  Never had these had the pull, the attraction for her as they did that day.  We bought some of those, too.

We sampled the Alberta-made traditional mead - yup, that medieval wine made with honey.  We sampled three kinds of Thai curry before settling on the green one to take home - they pack all the ingredients in a kit, inside one of those Chinese carry-out cartons - for you to cook up when you get home, from scratch.  We did that for dinner tonight - with exotica like slivered lime leaves, palm sugar, fish sauce, coconut milk permeating the kitchen.  Not a single bite was left - and the whole family ate it.  We made ours with chicken and fresh broccoli....

We stopped by Primal Grounds' stall in the market - yes, it's a coffee emporium, but with a huge, confident, and well-deserved reputation for making the best gluten-free soups in the business.  On offer, as samples, were the shiitake cream of mushroom - which made Shauna cry out "I belong here!  These are my people!" - as well as German caraway borscht.  We promptly bought a liter of the mushroom, and a liter of the roasted tomato vegetable, with a commitment to come back for Japanese miso and lemon dill chicken (because they had sold out).  And then Margaret, who cooks these soups that sustain and bring comfort to so many, told Shauna that because her diagnosis had been so recent, she deserved to be spoiled - and provided a fresh walnut and berry biscuit to eat with the soup.

She had the tomato soup for lunch today.  Last night, we had the free range pork farmer's sausage, with the sweetest, creamiest cranberry coleslaw and a genuine German oma's potato salad.  I don't care anymore that those pigs are loose in the back forty - leave them alone, let them eat - look at this sausage!!!

Today, we decided to spend an afternoon in each other's company, looking at overpriced showhomes - a hobby for as long as we've been married.

We visited exactly one such place...

....and then wound up at Primal Grounds' home base - a little restaurant, transformed from a vintage diner atmosphere into a funky little cafe.  I thought we were getting some tea or hot chocolate - the chinook winds had died back and it was getting cold.  But there was my gourmand wife - peering intently at the display case.  There was a sweet pineapple and chicken curry there.  She looked at me and said - we should split one, don't you think?  I DID think - so we did.  And we added a spinach salad, with freshly slivered almonds and dried cranberries in an intensely orange dressing.

The curry was sublimely smooth, with snow peas, sweet potatoes, bell peppers and a creamy, unctuous sauce caressing the chicken bits.  As an added bonus, the turmeric turned our tongues yellow.  We washed it down with vanilla steamed milk - which on paper sounds wrong, but let me assure you, it's right.

And when we got home, after a couple hours of rearranging our growing library of books, my Shauna announced - I'm ready for supper!

You have to understand - when food is only something you eat to live, and especially when so much of it could be dangerous, it just isn't exciting.  It wasn't ever nearly as exciting for Shauna as it has been for me.  But this weekend, when we found a bonanza of things made by people who really, truly care not only about taste, and freshness, and texture, and infusing every bite with dedication and love - but who also care about the people who cannot eat everything, a new foodie found a home.

And I like that.  A lot.

The Irresistible Pull of Pork

I have been on a pilgrimage through the US Barbecue belt – Washington DC, St. Louis, Kansas City, San Antonio, Atlanta, Houston – eating "low and slow" meat in a quest to find the best – and always yearning for someplace in Calgary to at least come close, for those long stretches when business kept me here, unable to find excuses to head south of the border. Yes, there were one or two wannabes in town that approximated the real thing, but they’ve swirled down the drain of mediocrity.

So imagine my barely contained, hopeful glee when I was zipping down Manhattan Road on an errand last fall, and just out of the corner of my eye spotted the Holy Smoke sign, with a bunch of guys at a picnic table. This is always a good sign. Fortunately, it was lunchtime, so I stopped in.

The first confirmation of my hope was the smell - the essence of smoky porkiness, in all its olfactory glory. Next, everyone at the gingham-plastic covered communal tables was eating off trays lined with butcher paper. My faith grew.

I made a resolution on my birthday that I needed to slim down again – which is the only reason I did not order one of everything on the menu. And besides, thus saith the holy grail of barbecue – “by thy pork shalt thou be judged” – so I reverently requested the full 8 ounce version of the pulled pork sandwich. And pit baked beans on the side. With a Dr. Pepper, naturally.

Peaches, behind the counter, as well as Jim Bob and a variety of other industrious staff, all clad in vestments of repair-shop coveralls with helpful nametags, were completely and devotedly interested in what I had on my tray. Before I even turned fully to face the wall of sauce choices (from Missouri, to Lip-Blistering to Jack Daniels, among 12 or 15 others), Jim Bob materialized beside me, and guided me in the way to the sublime vinegary Jim Beam-based version, which I slathered on.

The bun came with coleslaw, like it’s supposed to. The bun fell apart halfway through my meal, like it’s supposed to. The extra pork dropped all over my tray, ditto. The juice ran down my hands. I think I probably moaned a bit, because Peaches was watching me, expectantly, from the counter. I had told her my last stop for Barbecue had been Rudy’s in San Antonio. She wanted to know how this compared - you know why?  Because they told me they modeled Holy Smoke after Rudy's.  Small world!  My mouth was full, so I just put up two dripping thumbs. She made the universal sign for “Score!” – and you know what? I think she genuinely meant it – these guys rejoice in knowing that they have hit it out of the park.

I looked across, behind the assembly table where the sandwiches were being packed at blazing speed, to try and find the smoker. It’s actually parked outside, in a huge trailer. Somebody was thinking.

The pit beans were a rich, chocolatey brown, with the kind of unctuous sauce that can only result from being forcibly converted over several hours in a hot, smoky room. Perfect.

And when it was time to clean my hands before trying to navigate my BlackBerry again, I found the washroom impeccably clean. Yeah, there are license plates on the walls, and the atmosphere is devotedly redneck – but make no mistake. This is a class joint, that does it lovingly right. And the price? You’d pay the same at Wendy’s for lunch. And – if you don’t have a GPS and can’t find it on the map – they’ll apparently cater your event right at your house.

www.holysmokebbq.ca

The Celiac Conundrum, Chapter 3 - More Than Just Fast Food

Just about everyone who lives in Calgary eventually winds up being introduced to a small but influential place along Memorial Drive, just before Shaganappi Trail, where the lineups are long in winter and even longer in summer - Lic's Ice Cream parlor.  The Leavitt family has been running this place for many years, and it's still one of the finest places to get just about any flavor of ice cream your heart desires - especially if you have it in one of their waffle cones.

But if you're one of their customers, let me urge you to slow down as you approach their front door, and have a look at a tiny little place in the very same building, just one door over, next to the hair salon.  You've probably walked past it a hundred times, and if you're like me, automatically dismissed it in your drive for sweet dairy goodness.

Avatara Healthy Heartstone Pizza has finally put a sandwich board out on the sidewalk, advertising its healthy pizza, complete with gluten-free and lactose-free options.  Again, I am ashamed to say, it wasn't till the hunt for good gluten-free food became personal that I would have even considered a place which advertised "healthy" food, because too often those places make up in sanctimony what they lack in taste.  But today, we decided to step inside, because others in the growing celiac community in Calgary had recommended it highly.

Out of a frigid January Calgary day, the first thing that hits you as you pull open the door is an absolute wash of warm, complex aromas - fresh basil, sweet peppers, spiky chorizo, melting cheese - all punctuated with the insistent, primeval welcoming throb of reggae music.  It's strictly take-out, with a couple of bar chairs for those who don't want to sit in the car for the 20 minutes it takes for your order to be ready.

It quickly became apparent that the proprietor has been doing this for a very, very long time.  Which would mean he started making pizza when he was three years old, given his obvious youth.  It always shocks me into awed silence, watching someone who's an artist in the kitchen.  While we drank in the voluminous menu on the wall, he quietly chopped fresh basil and cilantro with the combination of lightning speed and casual fluidity that says - "this ain't no Little Caesar's, people".

We had a multitude of choices.  The most magnificent for my wife, though, was the fact that all these ingredients could be provided on a gluten-free crust, and lactose free options if desired.  Instead of opting for any of their avatars -  "The Guru" (Butter Chicken Sauce, Chicken, Mozzarella, Red Onion, Sweet Pepper, Mango Chutney and Cilantro), or the "Mauie Wowie" (Tomato or Rebel BBQ sauce, Black Forest Ham, Mozzarella, Pineapple and Bacon), she elected to build her own, from the Alter Ego menu - creating her own avatar from Body Types like thin or thick crust (she picked gluten-free), Saucy Soul sauces, Characteristics (toppings) Personality (choice of five cheeses) and Special Powers - including pine nuts, cashews, chipotle and other nifty taste explosions.

I had to go with the Italian Stallion - Fresh Basil graced the tomato sauce, with fresh-cut mushrooms, chorizo (not the kind that makes your hair catch fire, but with just the right kind of zing that makes you crave another bite), huge slices of salami, the tastiest, salty burst of green olives, and to crown the mozzarella cheese, a healthy sprinkling of honest, garlicky, in-your-face bruschetta, carefully strained of excess liquid through his fingertips, and strategically dropped in place.

We watched him put it all together.  He started with a meticulously-cleaned granite prep table, expunged of all traces of glutenous flour or dough.  After rolling out the crust and hand-cutting a perfect 10" circle, he built Shauna's creation with both hands, alternating layers of her chicken, sweet pepper, and cheese toppings - in its own foil tray.  He set it far away - far, far away from the prep table, so that his practiced flinging of flour to prepare my whisper-thin 50% whole-wheat crust could not possibly stray onto her pizza.  That crust was properly punctured with a rolling perforator, and slid onto a large paddle.

They went into his granite-hearth pizza oven, separated like boys and girls at an old-time Bible college.  No touching.  He checked the underside of the crust on mine twice - and when it was just brown enough, slid it onto its own baking sheet - preserving the bottom while finishing the toppings.

I saw a crease of worry cross Shauna's face.  With the agony of a full-blown celiac attack from a few days ago awfully fresh in her memory, she had to ask.  (The sign says "gluten free", but how do you really know it isn't just an advertising gimmick?)  So she said - "You do know there can't be any cross-contamination there, right?"  He smiled, and said - "That's why we keep them on their own tray, off the hearth surface.  We use separate cutters and keep them well away from the other pizzas.  Don't worry, ma'am".  "Well, I DO worry", she said, as she watched him cut and box my pizza.  Then, like a surgeon, he fastidiously washed and dried his hands, and only then, with a different paddle, took her pizza out of the oven, gently folding down the tray and cutting the pizza without it ever touching the board.  That's when he mentioned that 25 - 50% of his business every day is now coming from people who are celiac....

Shauna's pupils returned to their normal size.  With safety now firmly established, we embarked on the real test.  We did not wait to get home - with the car heater blasting away, we tied into the pizza, singeing both fingers and palates.

I had a bite of hers first.  Gluten free may be necessary for her, but I wanted to know if it was worth eating for anyone.  Hands down, yes.  Absolutely sublime.  "Every ingredient tastes fresh", Shauna said.  "Those green peppers aren't bitter!  How do you get green peppers that aren't bitter?"  Best of all - not a flicker of stomach-clenching pain, no poisoning symptoms - just mouthwateringly, blisteringly hot and fresh real pizza.

Mine was everything I expected.  I had to fold it, New York style, to keep the toppings from escaping onto my shirt front.  Every ingredient got it's own chance to sing out loud, and in perfect harmony with the others.  This isn't "just pizza", it's gourmet food.  Yeah, I know, pizza is pizza, no-brainer, right?  Nope - this is how it's supposed to be made.

They have a mobile pizza oven.  They'll cater your party.  They'll deliver too.  And with the price being no more than same-old, same-old Boston Pizza or Domino's, why wouldn't you go for something made by a pro, who understands that a symphony of excellent ingredients beats crappy muzak any day.  Next time you go to Lic's for dessert, why not get the main course at Avatara first....

The Celiac Conundrum - Chapter Two: Stuffing!

Having watched those with celiac disease for awhile now, it occurs to me that one of the biggest hurdles - kinda like the grieving process for any loss - is how to deal with missing the delicious stuff you used to eat.  That seems to be hardest with comfort food, or with food that is closely associated with the most heartwarming traditions - like Christmas or Thanksgiving food.  I know how much my wife misses her mom's pumpkin pie, for example, which she can never have again (not because she is now celiac, but because her mom has passed away).  She really misses that pie, especially at Christmas and Thanksgiving.

There's another thing that my celiac-afflicted community misses in much the same way.  What's turkey without stuffing?  What's Christmas dinner without stuffing, for that matter?  Sure, it's a simple dish we take for granted, but you really, really miss it when you realize you can't make those yummy cold turkey, cranberry and stuffing sandwiches later that night from the leftovers without stuffing in them!

A couple of years ago, at such a family gathering, everything at Jan's house was perfect for dinner - except that we had no solution for the stuffing conundrum.  We had an urgent conference in the kitchen.  Let's face it - 98% of what passes for bread in the gluten-free world is crap, and unworthy of anything but toasting and choking down with large volumes of peanut butter and jelly to mask the taste.  But stuffing is also about texture, not just taste, and GF bread had failed all attempts at anything evoking the comfort of bygone stuffing experiences.

Of great necessity is sometimes born ingenuity.  With an hour to go before dinner, we opened the pantry, pulled out the spice rack, and started throwing things together.

Astonishingly, it worked.  Don't ask me how, but there was alchemy in the following ingredients.  After crowing delight and moans of satisfaction from the dinner table, we decided to write this one down on a paper plate, so as not to forget it.  I am advised that this recipe has now migrated out beyond our family circle, to land on others' holiday tables.  That's pretty gratifying, I must say - given the huge value of comfort food and its place in family tradition.  Here's the recipe:

10-12 slices of Gluten Free bread - we used plain old Kinnickinnic tapioca rice, but whatever you have should work.
2 cups turkey or chicken broth
1 med onion, diced
1 granny smith apple, diced
2-3 tbsp bacon bits (real or simulated) 
NOTE:  Some people leave the bacon bits out entirely.  Me, I like the smokiness and richness that bacon adds to dishes that go with meat.  It's why I like bacon in my red cabbage, for example.  But go ahead and leave it out, if you want to.
4-5 tbsp Butter (very important...do not skimp)
1 tbsp poultry seasoning(or to your taste) or oregano, rosemary, and/or sage
1 tbsp seasoning salt

Cut the bread into 1 inch cubes, Pour broth over the bread to soak. 
Season with poultry seasoning, and let it stand while you sauté the diced onions in 2 tbsp butter for 5-6 min. over medium heat (until just translucent - do not burn).
Add diced apple and bacon bits, sauté for another 3-4 minutes
Add seasoning salt, stir and sauté
In another, large frying pan, put soaked bread cubes with 2-3 tbsp of butter, over medium heat. Stir so it does not stick. 
Stir in the onion and apple mixture from your other pan. 
Dump everything into an 8 x 12 casserole dish. 
Put into a 325 oven for about 1/2 an hour, to dry it out a bit and make the top brown and crunchy


Serve to anyone...even glutenites.  They will not know the difference...


NOTE:  Some people like other things in their stuffing, like dried cranberries or celery or carrots.  If you want to add these, just sauté the vegetables for awhile before you add the onions.  Half an hour in the oven is not enough to soften them so that they feel like they belong in the stuffing.  Cranberries or raisins - probably best to soak them right along with the bread.  That plumps them up a bit, just as if they were in the turkey.

I think the trick here is in soaking the bread in broth, then letting the water evaporate out in the oven.  Maybe something to do with preserving and concentrating the chickeny goodness of the broth in the bread is what transforms it from mealy mediocrity to something worth calling "stuffing".  In that regard, I am not sure this would even work if stuffed in a turkey cavity.  I don't think there would be enough evaporation happening in there to make this what it needs to be.  If someone wants to try it, and compare the result with this recipe, I'd like to hear about it.....