Milk Tiger Lounge, Calgary

Milk Tiger Lounge
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

I've found a new favorite bar. It got off to a shaky start, but the meatballs with spaghetti on a stick brought me back.

I love anything on a stick. They even serve cheese wrapped in ham on a stick. What's not to like? I *heart* this place.

I love the 2oz pours and the "stick to the classics cocktail list." I love the fact that there's a tag rather than a sign outside. The eclectic music that makes me dance like Snoopy (or for Andree to do the running man). The doorman was reading "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" tonight. They know what I drink (a perfect Manhattan, in case you didn't know) and they serve the best freakin' waffles in the world.

Yeah. Waffles. With chocolate or vanilla ice cream, and maple syrup.

So tonight, we went for dinner at the Canadian Danish Club. And I happened to mention the waffles. And there was an unspoken moment of affinity across the table. We were going to eat the herring, and the salmon, and the shrimp tower, and drink the Riesling, and go and have waffles. It passed in a moment, like when you know you're going to kiss, or push that friend off a cliff in case they rat you out for the bacchanal you just had.

There's a prize if you name the novel I'm referencing. It will involve waffles and a Manhattan at Milk Tiger Lounge.

Milk Tiger Lounge is at 1410 4th Street SW, Calgary. Call (403) 261-5009. It's open until 2am, Tuesday through Sunday (edit: I didn't know the days of the week. Never blog when you've just got home from this place). It tends not to get busy until 10.30pm, so it's a great place for an early drink if you like to hear your date speak. But nothing beats a midnight waffle.

Punk Rock Bingo, Broken City, Calgary

Beer + Bingo + Wings = World Class Night Out
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

If there's a better night out, and I don't just mean in Calgary, then I want to know about it. There's great salt and pepper wings, the rockingest DJs this side of your favourite scrut-bag nightclub and...bingo.

But as Steve, our host for the evening, says, this is not the kind of bingo you'd bring your grandma to.

With prize ranging from machetes to sex toys to tattooing at Bushido, it's enough to make your maiden aunt blush. From cries of "fuck yeah" as we get started (or whenever Steve feels like it) to a paddle to the ass for a erroneous call (a "bullshit bingo"), this is a decidedly R-rated night out.

But a belt for the RPS champion, great music and a general joy in perverting the usual bingo shenanigans, means that Punk Rock Bingo gets a thumbs up from me.

Improvements? I used to love the bingo calls when I went to the Mecca bingo with my nan. Clickety Click? Sixty Six. Dancing Queen? Seventeen. Let's punk rock them up a bit. Sham! 69. Two Fat Johnny Rottens? 22. Year Punk was born? 74.

As long as no-one start spitting, I'll keep going.

Punk Rock Bingo is at Broken City Calgary. 613 - 11th Ave. S.W. (403) 262-9976

Don't Cry For Me Argentina, Part One.

First Real Snow of the Calgary Winter
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

So I missed my flight to Buenos Aires.

Twice.

My brain’s up my bum at the moment, hence the first missed flight. I was sure I was flying on Friday and in spite of checking the itinerary twelve hundred times, well, needless to say I was flying on Thursday. The penny only dropped when I was on the phone to United, having attempted to check in online for a flight I had missed. I was about to get a bit snippy with the customer services executive as she asked me “why are you in Calgary?” for the fifth time and was resisting the urge to respond “because I did something terrible in a former life and am forced to pay for my sins by living on the ice planet of Hoth for a while”, when I realized what day it was.

Luckily I was rebooked, for Sunday, which was great because it meant that I was able to do all of the stuff I hadn’t got round to doing to prepare for the trip. Like pack. Get my inoculations. Do some Christmas shopping. Buy some summer clothes, because all of mine are in Sydney.

Of course it’s impossible to buy summer clothes in Calgary in December. It has been -35 for over a week now, a hitherto unknown temperature for me (and judging by the way that life in Calgary has crawled to a halt, an unknown temperature for it too. I had worked on the assumption that Calgary would continue to function in the cold, what with it being like Narnia here for about six months of the year, but all of the cab companies have just switched their lines to engaged and it’s impossible to get anywhere). I made the mistake of saying that cold all feels the same once you’re past minus seven, but once you’ve attempted to walk the six blocks to the office in -35, you feel like a fool for saying that. Your nostrils stick together. The air is knocked from your lungs. If you don’t have a wee before leaving, it freezes in your bladder.

And if I hear one more person tell me “but it’s a dry cold”, I will stab them through the heart with an icicle.

So I hired a cab driver for the day and went off to do my shopping. It was while I was purchasing some swimwear (at Commitments Lingerie in Dalhousie. I highly recommend them) that I realized my passport wasn’t in my bag but my work permit was. At this point I wished my wee had frozen in my bladder, because this was a disaster.

Is this the right time to mention I decided to give up smoking last week? After twenty years on the evil weed, I had decided enough was enough and wanted to use the trip as a chance to break my habit. Do you have any idea how much you want a cigarette when you think you’ve lost your passport? I was like some two dollar crack-whore, jonesing for a smoke, clawing at the cab windows as we drove back downtown.

My brain was telling me I must have left it in the office, when I was photocopying it for my friends’ PR application. Or it must be on the side at home. It cannot have just been whisked away by the Universe.

Of course it had.

It took me one online prayer to St Antony, two knots in hankies, three spirit guide messengers and four hours kicking through snow drifts and retracing all of my steps from the last time I saw it to realise that my passport was gone.

My passport. My most treasured possession. The thing that means I can split this joint with a second’s notice and go where my heart desires. This was really bad news.

Baba Ka Dhaba, Calgary

Baba Ka Dhaba
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Plans had been afoot to eat at Baba Ka Dhaba for some time. Known as “the stand up” among my friends, I had been seduced with talk of totally delicious Indian food. It was reaching mythical status, and then everyone went into damage limitation mode, telling me to get drunk before I got there and to wear my oldest clothes.

A dhaba is a roadside restaurant throughout India and Pakistan. They are very popular with truck drivers, as they are often next to a petrol station. For British readers, this means you’re eating in the Indian equivalent of a “Happy Chef”, although pleasantly, the comparison stops there. The food served is often Punjabi, pretty spicy and with more of a homestyle feel that you’d get in a restaurant. If only the UK had roadside food as pungent and delicious as Baba Ka Dhaba. Perhaps I’d still be living there…

To continue the driving theme, Calgary’s Baba Ka Dhaba does look very similar to one of those illegal mini-cab offices you find in the east end of London. Not a lampshade in sight and it’s tiled, so you can either tell yourself it’s a bit like eating in a urinal, or that it’s really easy to hose down at the end of the night. To be honest though, this place probably hasn’t seen a good hosing down in a while.

The food, however, was glorious. Pillowy naan bread. Butter chicken in a sauce as silky as my underwear drawer. Chicken tikka, on the bone, all scrackly and charred from the oven. Pakora curry, a dish I had never heard of before, that was like eating the scrummiest dream you’ve ever had about your favourite person. Lamb chops and sheekh kebabs, be still my beating heart, that are better than Mirchi and rival those at Lahore Karahi in Tooting. We even got to go off-menu with goat hooves in a thin spicy gravy and some Nepalese fish, just flaking as you bite into the batter patina.

You’ll see my glamorous assistant Amit pointing out that the menu at Baba Ka Dhaba rotates through the week, so I can’t guarantee that what we had will be there when you go. In fact, I have an aloo naan winging its way to me as I type, as this is one of the Monday items.

Now, before you rush off there, remember that I don’t mind eating in a place that the interweb tells me has 16 health code violations. I cut some restaurants a lot of slack when it comes to things like this. Oddly enough, if I heard that a fine dining place was storing ice-cream on top of bones, then I’d be cautious. But this place is a hole in the wall and I’ve eaten pani puree on the streets of Bangalore, so I know I have a pretty cast iron stomach. What does make me weep though, is when people use the internet to complain that the chicken tikka wasn’t cooked properly and they got sick. Hello? If the chicken isn’t cooked properly, send it back, you cretin. Sometimes I find myself waiting for people to blossom from imbecile to idiot, and wondering why there isn’t some sort of test before people are allowed to post opinions on the web.

Baba Ka Dhaba is at 3504 17th Ave SE. You can call them on 403-207-5552.

Mirchi, Calgary

Mirchi Kebabs
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

So what’s the restaurant that has been recommended to me the most in Calgary? Mirchi.

So of course I had to go.

This place is right next to the Safeway, and is almost a reason to shop here. Of course nothing is going to tempt me to frequent a supermarket that only seems to sell rotting vegetables, so until Mirchi opens a branch next to the Farmer’s Market, I can’t combine shopping for food to cook and a quick snack after.

Mirchi is a simple, no frills Pakistani/Indian café which has been open since 2007. We went on a cold, snowy Sunday night, because I’d heard the kebabs were amazing. I wasn’t disappointed. A lot of the food is served cafeteria style and we began by ordering at the counter, able to choose what looked most delicious.

I was with two people who like okra. They wanted it. Given I am in an “eat anything” kind of mood, I figured that now was a good time to see if my hatred of okra was ill-placed. Sorry to report that there will no further mentions of this evil vegetable on this blog for the foreseeable future. My fellow greedy weasels said that it was delicious though.

More interesting to me were the shish kebabs, all tender and moist, wrapped in some very good (although not perfect) naan with a really fresh salad. The salad in a lot of Indian/Pakistani restaurants can be a bit perfunctory, but as you can see from the picture, this is really pretty good. Chicken karahi came on the bone, lots of chunky pieces in a creamy, spicy sauce. With a couple of masala chai, this was a really, really good, very inexpensive meal.

Some chops were ordered as desert, when we saw a plate being delivered to the next table. The waiter thought we were joking though, and they never arrived. Luckily some friends brought some over a couple of nights later, and these are truly exceptional chops. The only tiny criticism I could make is that they might have been marinaded for a little too long, so the meat is very melting, lacking a little of the char and bite to the tooth from the best kebabs in the world (at Lahore Karahi in Tooting) But it is an exceptional marinade, so I may be being overly-critical.

All in all, this was a fantabulous meal, and a place that I am going to be visiting an awful lot.

Mirchi is at 101,825 - 12th Ave SW. Call 403 245-3663.

Silver Dragon, Calgary

Silver Dragon, Calgary
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Which foods do you hate?

It’s one of my questions. Whenever I’m eating with new people, I love finding out what they don’t eat.

The first answer is generally the same. “Oh, I eat most things.”

But when you probe further, there’s always something.

Raisins. Peas. Butter. Red pasta sauce. Garlic. Lamb. Tongue. I’ve heard all of these in the past three weeks.

Me? I joke that I’ll eat anything as long as it's not endangered. And okra and bananas.

I’ve been trying really hard to eat anything that’s put in front of me. Guided by Jeffrey Steingarten, the former food editor of Vogue, who, when he took the commission, started a process of culinary self-modification to train himself to eat all of the things he had previously avoided. He wrote a book about it “The Man Who Ate Everything”, which you really ought to read if you haven’t.

I’m still working on the bananas and okra. Bananas, to me, taste like they are rotting. Okra provokes a visceral response, the kind that I am lead to believe many have to oysters. In the same way that I don’t understand how someone can’t eat peas, people are stunned when I tell them I don’t eat bananas. Blank stares of amazement. As one person said recently “You’ve eaten squirrel. How can you not eat a banana?”

Of course they are right. I think it’s essential to try new things, and attempt to re-educate your palate around things that you don’t think you like. I remember being told to have the turnip cake at Hakkasan in London, by a foodie friend that I really respected. When it was served, I assumed he was playing some sort of joke on me. What on earth is this flavourless, slithery, lumpy thing? I actually gagged. Given that Hakkasan serves some of the finest dim sum in London, I’d assumed that turnip cake was not for me.

So I had a bit of shock when I tried it again and discovered that I actually liked it. Maybe it was the passage of time. Maybe I’m a slitherier kinda gal these days. Maybe I learned that Chinese food is as much about texture as flavour and love it for that. Maybe Hakkasan’s turnip cake was having a bad day. Now it’s something I would always order.

A recent yum cha foray to Silver Dragon in Calgary gave me the chance to have some more turnip cake. I think some of the people round the table might have been having the same response as I first had…but this was a pretty good example of the dish. Best of all here were the egg tarts, warm and wobbly from the oven and we managed three serves. The har gao are well worthy of investigation too, and I was intrigued to notice that you get two prawns in them here, rather than the measly London one. Less interesting were the roasted meats, but a squeaky-fresh serve of gai lan (pictured) more than made up for that.

So tell me. Which foods do you hate?

Silver Dragon is at 106 3 Avenue SE Calgary (403) 264-5326. You will definitely need a reservation for weekend yum cha.

Hakksan is at 8 Hanway Place, London, W1T 1HD. They serve the best xiao long bao I have ever eaten and the place cannot fail to make you feel like a Bond Girl.

Mi Tierra Tu Taqueria, Calgary

Chiles Rellenos
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Did you know that 21.4million people visited Mexico in 2006?

Nope, me neither.

I’d never been able to work out why internet food boards were always full of people complaining about the lack of decent Mexican food in their ‘hood. Of course part of the problem is that most of what we’re served as Mexican food is lowest common denominator meat product, coated in cheese and served with a battery-acid margarita, but I did always wonder why so many people were so passionate about Mexican food.

Having spent time in Chicago and cooked the whole of the Rick Bayless back catalogue, I feel like I know what good Mexican food is. After one particularly bad Mexican experience (in London, natch) I attempted to complain, but the owner had no time for me because I replied in the negative when he asked if I had ever been to Mexico.

I’ve never been to Pakistan either, but I can spot a good tandoori lamb chop at 25 paces.

All of this is a long way of telling you that I have found some good Mexican food. In Calgary.

This is somewhat surprising. Of course I tweeted it. “Stop the presses. Sensational enchilada verde found in Calgary strip mall”. An American friend replied “I would have been less surprised if you told me you’d seen a unicorn.”

But it’s true.

The enchilada verde is sensational, with the green chile sauce having a proper spicy kick. Now, some of the other stuff we ordered wasn’t quite as good; the chiles rellenos (pictured) were a bit flabby and a lacked sparkle, all of the rice was a bit lack-lustre, but who doesn’t love refried beans?

OK, so it’s a long way to go for one great dish, but I am sure that a further exploration of this menu will show up some more superstars. Oh, and the décor is a bit fast-food joint, so don’t go expecting a fine dining experience.

Mi Tierra Tu Taqueria is at 10015 Oakfield Drive SW. Call 403 238-1749. They are closed on Mondays and open 12-8pm Tuesday through Saturday and noon to 5pm on Sundays.

Nectar, Calgary

Nectar, Calgary
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Oh dessert. How much I love you.

Of course I’m showing my non-u roots there. Dessert, in the UK, is one of those shibboleths that give away your class origin. You’re supposed to say pudding, unless it contains fruit, when you could, quite correctly, call it dessert. Especially if you’re dining with a pedant.

Either way, I always used to say I didn’t like desert. I was lying. I *heart* dessert, pudding and afters and I don’t care what you call it, as long as it’s delicious.

Dessert was the whole point of last night’s venture out to Inglewood. We picked a “tapas” place to begin, reasoning that we really all just wanted to go to Nectar, but felt that we ought to have something savory first. We should have skipped dinner at Village Cantina because it wasn’t great. But I am feeling nice, so I shall spare you the critique.

Let’s celebrate the good, right?

Nectar’s philosophy is simple:

“Dessert is special. Unlike regular foods, we use it to treat ourselves, celebrate important occasions, to thank, and to reward. Children beg for it, grown-ups sneak it. Nectar Desserts makes sure that each and every piece we make is a special event itself, from first sight, to last bite!”

Housed upstairs from a couple of chi-chi stores, the room is all hard-wood converted loft chic. They have some nice over-stuffed sofas, lots of cute mirrors on the walls, dim lighting and a glass cabinet full of gorgeousness that made me drool. Mental note, perfect date place. Should I have the chocolate and salted caramel tarte? Or the blackberry and passionfruit one? Perhaps a tasting plate of five different flavoured macaroons? A posh s’more? Actually, that one nearly won until an American friend pointed out that it’s illegal for my first ever s’more to be in an up-scale dessert bar and we need a fire pit to induct me into the world of s’mores.

I’ve been learning a lot about s’mores recently. I saw a post on Mike Czyzewski's blog entitled the Omnivore’s Hundred. It’s a list of 100 things you could/should/ought to eat. I’ve had about 85 of them (missing out on things like fugu, durian, fondue (!) the Big Mac, a root beer float, a Hostess Fruit Pie and the aforementioned s’mores). A lot of the ones I’ve missed out on are North American and I even had to go and look up s’mores. Hadn’t even heard of them, but then I realized that this is because I am allergic to camping and grew up in the UK. Turns out there’s an Alberta connection to the s’more though. Add some peanut butter and you have the Banff Blast. God, isn’t Wikipedia amazing?

Back to Nectar. I ended up choosing the salted caramel tarte. It’s the benchmark patisserie item for me, a modern day classic, and I already knew that Nectar was going to have to suck really, really, really hard for me not to be back. So I’d start with the basics. And a macaroon chaser. And a glass of Bonny Doon “framboise” which was the perfect partner. Sometimes I think I might be quite good at this food lark.

The tarte was good. Not perfect, amazing or likely to give Pierre Herme any sleepless nights, but they’d used Valrhona Guanaja, one of my favourites, a 70% bitter chocolate from South America and did a good job with the chocolate pastry crust. The macaroon was less amazing, but I am not sure that Calgary, a place I swear is drier than the Lut Desert, is the best place to be making and selling macaroons. That’s not going to stop me trying them again though.

Other lovely touches included some exceptional canelles and a wide range of take-home sorbets and ice-creams that don’t have any nasty preservatives or fillers. My ingredients list for the cherry sorbet says “sweet cherries, sugar”. Good to see and makes me miss my ice-cream maker less.

Any bum notes? A couple. They don’t take reservations and don’t accommodate tables of more than six. So they weren’t very pleased when nine of us turned up. We split into two tables, but were told “it’s quiet tonight so you can stay.”

Can you imagine walking into a clothes store and being told “we hate the way you look but sales are down this month, so come on in, fatty?” I still don’t understand why restaurants (or in this case, a dessert bar) can get the basics of customer service wrong. Luckily most of the rest of the service was sweet, kind, enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and we did break their rules, so I shall forgive them. And go back next week.

Nectar Dessert Bar is upstairs at 1216 9th Ave SE

Chef's Table, Calgary

Soup: Chef's Table Calgary
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Executive Chef Theo Yeaman has cooked in some interesting-sounding places I have never eaten at in Canada and has done a stage at the Fat Duck in Bray, where I have. His restaurant, Chef’s Table at the Kensington Riverside Inn, was just named the fourth best new restaurant in Canada by AirCanada’s enRoute magazine. It would appear I get all my best tips from airline magazines these days.

Let’s get the quibbles out of the way first. The table was booked for 8.15pm, but I wasn’t seated until 9pm. There are two dining rooms, one with a fabulous open kitchen, the other with a fabulous…open fireplace. I was sat in the latter. Now, I recognize that being dateless in Calgary on a Saturday night is probably reason enough to throw yourself in the Bow River, but the restaurant staff didn’t help matters by seating me, back to the rest of the room, next to the fire. Talk about being a social pariah. Luckily I was moved, without having to ask, when I took out my camera.

The service was a bit wonky all night. I like informal; I don’t like being asked how my food is tasting when I have a mouthful of it or trying to give some feedback on a dish and being asked if I have eaten monkfish before. But I know I can be a right old grumpy-pants at times, and these are minor compared to some delicious, bold pairings and flavours that made up most of my meal and service that is friendly and warm.

First up, an amuse bouche of a teeny two-bite Forme D’Ambert tart, just warm from the oven and formed from deliciously short pastry. Next, an earthy turnip and apple soup, with perky texture and sweetness from some candied walnuts. Yes, they called it a veloutè and yes, it’s not 1998 anymore, but who cares about menu anachronisms when the food’s this good?

A Queen Charlotte scallop with blood orange foam, edamame, salmon roe and orange segments really shouldn’t have worked, but did. The Heidi Schrock Weissburgunder which paired it showed the skills of the sommelier and a wine service and kitchen that are working well together. Yeaman’s food uses striking flavours and it’s good to see that the wine service is up to the task.

The fish course was the only bum note of the evening. The preparation was interesting; roasted Atlantic monkfish with beef jus and a take on cassoulet with some cannellini beans and pancetta, but the fish was mealy and poorly cooked. It’s a shame that the quality of the fish and the execution let the dish down, because I’m often bored to death by the fish course on a tasting menu and this was genuinely interesting.

Then, deep breath, an “intermezzo” of blood peach sorbet with a dash of prosecco. I was ready to be all scathing (seriously, when was the last time you were served a sorbet in the middle of the meal? Were you wearing legwarmers at the time?) but the sorbet had bags of flavour and I liked the deconstructed Bellini thing that was going on. So I stopped complaining and embraced my inner Irene Cara.

Next up, Ewenique farm lamb saddle with panella, roasted eggplant and a thyme jus. Served with a 2005 Poggio di Sotto Rosso di Montalcino, this was Italy on a plate. I’d never heard of panella before (and my interweb research suggests that it’s traditionally a Sicilian chickpea fritter, rather than the chickpea and polenta purée I was served) but how lovely when you learn something new from a menu. Especially when it tastes this delicious. The lamb was just fab, although any pun as good as Ewenique is going to get me on-side from the get-go.

Finally, some doughnuts with a compote and an exceptional custard. I would have lingered over the lingonberries, but the table of dentists next to me were getting kind of graphic, so I brushed off offers of a cappuccino (a cappuccino? At 11pm? Do I look like a hairdresser?) and made off into the night.

Best meal I’ve had in Calgary? By a long shot. Good enough for me to go back soon. The tasting menu changes fortnightly. This could be the beginning of a beautiful thing.

Chef’s Table is at the Kensington Riverside Inn, 1126 Memorial Drive N.W, Calgary. Call 403.228.4442 for reservations.

Ali Baba Kabob House, Calgary

Ali Baba Kabob House
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

The restaurant that’s getting the most coverage in the Calgary blogosphere at the moment is Ali Baba Kabob House. Yes, there is a Calgary blogosphere. I was quite surprised too, but it’s well worth checking out the lovely Andree at ugonnaeatthat? and John Manzo at Creative Juices and Solids . I followed their lead and suggested that our CalgaryFoodie group trot along.

It’s often a bit stressful taking a large group of people to a place you’ve never visited before. Still, I had done my research and was prepared with a list of the dishes we should order. Of course I was late getting there and everyone else had already ordered. So they missed out on my research and looked a bit crestfallen.

Ali Baba is an Afgan restaurant, Calgary’s second, which has been open for a month or so now. Its very casual, more of a fast food place really, but some of the food is really good. My guide for dining here is as follows;

Have the qabali rice. It’s only a dollar extra and it’s fluffy, buttery, carroty and sultana-y all at the same time. I don’t have much time for sweet and savoury, but this is delicious.
Try the sultani dinner, mixed sticks of barg and korma kebab. I really hope that sultani means fit for a Sultana. This was.
Do not miss the boulanee. Street food is really popular in Afghanistan and the tabang walas (street vendors) often have these “turnovers” filled with leeks or mashed potato.
If you go before I get back there, try the choppan (lamb chops). I love a lamb chop, but thought it was a bit greedy to order these as well. Tell me what they are like.

Not everything is perfect here. The salad of iceberg lettuce and tomato is pointless and not livened up at all by the accompanying pot of yogurt and mint dressing. The salad with feta that someone else ordered looked very work-a-day. Most of the blogs that have written about this place haven’t praised the bread, so I didn’t bother.

But it’s cheap, tasty and cheerful, just as long as you stick to the guidelines above.

Ali Baba’s Kabob House 1602 14th St. S.W. Call 403-874-9791

Divino Wine and Cheese Bistro, Calgary

Close Up Divino Door
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Oh Calgary, if you keep this up, I might have to change my culinary opinions of you.

Fresh from my new love, FARM (we're still in the early stages, I get all tummy-tingly when I think about this place and fragments of love poems keep popping into my mind) comes Divino. It's a sexy little wine and cheese bar on Stephen Avenue (of all places). I think I might have to have an illicit affair with it.

My first trip wasn't really about going to Divino. It was a place to meet before seeing a show. We were just going to have a glass of wine. But then we saw the cheese list and thought we ought to have a piece of two. You know, to be social.

This is how these thing start. You have the best intentions, no plans to let another into your heart, but they wiggle their way in, in this instance with some exceptional taleggio and superlative bread. Also great was the tête de moines, all coquettishly rosetted and fresh from the girolle. Finally, a British cheese, the king of cheeses, a Leicestershire Stilton, which had been beautifully kept and was in the peak of creamy condition.

Two glasses of Kung Fu Girl Riesling (Best. Name. Evah.) from Washington State, tipped the whole hour-long trip over into a sensational sixty minutes.

Can't wait to go back and try the food proper.

Divino is at 113 - 8th Avenue SW. Call 403-410-5555 for reservations.

Spice Hut, Calgary

Kebabs at Spice Hut, Calgary
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Sometimes the story of how you find a restaurant is better than the restaurant itself.

Steve instigated Thursday night curry a while ago. He and a couple of friends would get drunk and then go eat a curry. Simple enough. Only Steve is one of those people whose surreal knob is generally turned up to 11 (ask him about his first attempt at web development sometime) and one night their cab driver basically kidnapped them, promising them the best curry they would have in Calgary.

Lo, Spice Hut, Pakistani restaurant extraordinaire, entered the restaurant consciousness of my friends.

I loved the story so much that I insisted we go there. So a few weeks ago, a group of us set off. During Ramadan. At 6pm. Hmmmn.

The guys in Spice Hut were very accommodating and soon brought us the piles of food we’d ordered. I insisted on some sheehk kebabs and breads, as these are the benchmark items to assess the calibre of any of any Pakistani restaurant. Given it was Ramadan we had to have some haleem. And almost everything else on the menu. Apart from the fish and chips. Turns out that Spice Hut used to be a fish and chip shop, and after they took over the place, so many people came in asking for them that they just added them to the menu.

You’ll notice I say kebabs. I don’t wish to be dramatic, but please shoot me in the face if you ever see my write “kabob” on this blog. And while I’m at it, send me home if you hear me order a “donair”. It sounds like a cut-price Turkish airline and I am wedded to the use of donner.

Come to think of it, if you ever hear me order a donner kebab, section me, because I’ve clearly lost my mind. We all know they’re made out of owl snouts and reconstituted rat penis.

I’m pleased to report that the kebabs at Spice Hut are very, very good. Well spiced, with good char and plentiful. The tikka was pretty good too but who goes to a Pakistani restaurant for the chicken tikka? Breads were a bit of a let down. No green chili paratha and the naans were very dry. No lamb chops either. ‘Sigh.

In their defence, we ordered too many different dishes and we were starving, so things got a bit of our hand and my critical capacities were just blown away by the variety of dishes. That said, the haleem was exceptional, much better than at Lahore Karahi, my favourite Pakistani restaurant in the world.

I’ll go back, mainly for the kebabs. Although the word on the street is that there’s a new great kebab place in town…

Spice Hut is at 6554, 4th Street NE, Calgary, 403 274 7687

Ruminations on Mac and Cheese, Calgary and Chicago

Mac and Cheese (bubbling cauldren of) at Table 52
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

It’s possible that I may end my days by drowning in a bowl of mac and cheese.

Macaroni cheese wasn’t something my mum ever served when I was growing up. I would like you all to believe that my mum would only ever serve a perfect spaghetti carbonara, perhaps followed by a simple green salad and then a piece of reggiano she’d been maturing in the family cheese cave, but we were more likely to get an economy beef burger from Kwik Save. I don’t believe I even tried pasta until I was 13 years old. So really I have no right to laugh at the Canadian obsession with Kraft Dinner, because I am sure that this is the sort of thing mum would have loved. I’m just so anti food stuffs that come in packages and are jacked up with preservatives, sodium and e numbers, that I doubt I’ll ever try it.

Luckily, lots of places serve beautifully home made mac and cheese here, and I think I might have to try them all.

My mac and cheese of the year (so far) was at Table Fifty-Two in Chicago. I was somewhat suspicious at first, as it’s run by Oprah Winfrey’s personal chef, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to get Fat Oprah or Thin Oprah food. Luckily it’s the former, and Art Smith is aiming to be “the home of Southern hospitality in Chicago”. It’s a cute little space, with a counter in front of the open wood burning oven, where singletons like me can go and try and chat up a chef. It’s great, they *have* to talk you and you don’t end up feeling all alone in a strange city. Of course one downside is that you also end up talking to the people sat next to you, who are also generally sad singletons and use words like “toothsome” to describe the cat-fish (yes, I nearly stabbed the man to my right) or keep telling you that you’re a food writer because you’re taking photos (no, I am not, as this blog attests).

The food at Table Fifty-Two is well worthy of investigation. The menu was full of things that I wanted to eat, most notable of which was a side dish of three cheese macaroni. However, I also really wanted to have crab cake with fennel and Georgia peanut remoulade and cat fish with bacon braised collard greens, hush puppy and cheese grits, and sadly I’d forgotten to pack my extra stomach for the trip, so I tried to score a half-serve of the mac. “Art doesn’t do half-serves” said the waiter. So I had to give it up and set to enjoying the wood fired biscuit they served me, along with a little devilled egg amuse.

Table Fifty-Two isn’t perfect, although the food and hospitality are pretty exceptional. They serve Fiji water instead of tap water and make a big deal out of serving Australian lamb. I get a little frustrated by this sort of ecological wastefulness. But these are minor points and this restaurant really wants you to have a good time, so I am going to forgive them.

And, of course, just after my cat fish was served, the chef came over with a cheeky grin and a bubbling cauldron of macaroni cheese. “I couldn’t let you not try it” he smiled. And I really wished I had packed that extra tummy. It was outstanding; amazing baked cheese lid, with lots of gooey cheese sauce beneath. I was counseled to stir the cheesy topping into the rest of the dish, but I always prefer to munch the topping first, especially the bits where the pasta has peeked out and you get these crispy, cheesy bits. Then you can enjoy the luscious, soft, creamy pasta and cheese sauce afterwards.

Another good mac and cheese, and much closer to me at the moment than Chicago, is at the Avenue Diner in Calgary. Their philosophy is about supporting local farmers and growers and serving really good, simple food to their customers. We couldn’t resist a side order of “Dad’s aged white cheddar mac and cheese” to go with breakfast, although we did forgo the optional truffle essence or marinated chicken. I really think I am going to have to start carrying that extra stomach with me at all times.

Avenue Diner is at 105 - 8th Avenue S.W. Calgary. (403) 263 - 2673
Table Fifty-Two is at 52 W. Elm Street Chicago. +1 312.573.4000

It's All Greek to Me, Calgary

Baklava
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

So who woulda thunk it? The best baklava in the world is available in Calgary.

There's this place called Kalamata Grocery Store, located conveniently next to the Galaxie Diner, so you can have your breakfast and then stock up on deliciousness for the week ahead. The rose and pistachio baklava is, without doubt, the best I have eaten. The pastry is crackly-light, just shattering as you a take a bite, before the rosewater and syrup-soaked lower layers add more heft and luciousness to the mouthful. The pistachios are sweet, and the syrup not too over-powering. One mouthful will transport you to your Grecian island of choice (Mykonos, in my case) and suddenly your world is filled with the smell of oregano-rich roasting lamb, white church roof-tops against a brilliant blue sky and the smell of wet leather and poppers (in my case. You might have a different experience of Greece). Funny how the memory does that to you.

Kalamata also stocks the most amazing pressed Greek yogurt, which sells out fast, so it's always worth asking when they're getting some in next. I used mine to make tzatiki, which was rich, garlicky, cool and minty, all at the same time.

They also stock some amazing barrel aged feta, which I'll go into raptures over some other time.

I'm not sure if Kensington's Broken Plate restaurant uses any of Kalamata's ingredients, but it's a not bad place for a midweek supper. Portions are huge, and the bread amazingly moreish, so you probably don't want to do what we did, and order a couple of dips, some zucchini fritters, soup and salad. Actually, you can probably forgo the salad all together, for it was the biggest let down of the meal, with less than perfect tomatoes and a sort of chemically salad dressing. Don't pass by the fritters though. They are crisp, yet gooey mounds of zucchini, packed with flavour although served with some questionable zig-zags of beet puree. Just dip them in the tzatiki and enjoy.

Kalamata Grocery Store is at 1421 11 Street Southwest, Calgary.
The Broken Plate is at 302 10th Street N.W., Calgary

Vero Bistro Moderne, Calgary

Chicken
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

The moral of this story? Never order the chicken.

It has always been one of my rules in a restaurant. Don’t order the chicken. Don’t annoy the waiter. I can make chicken at home and annoy my friends. At home I know that I’m eating a happy, organic chicken that lived a lovely life pecking at grubs and my friends won’t do anything indecent to my food.

I don’t go to restaurants to eat what I can cook at home.

That said, I have made two exceptions to this rule. There was a poularde en demi-deuil at Manresa, in Los Gatos, California that I crossed an ocean for and a roast chicken with bread sauce at Glebe Point Diner in Sydney that are worthy exceptions and worth seeking out. Chef David Kinch’s chicken in half mourning (as the translation goes; the name comes from the slices of black truffle that are stuffed under the skin before it’s poached) was specially prepared for us, and served with these slightly scronchy fingerling potatoes. Glebe Point Diner roasts their chicken and serves it with a solitary roast potato, nutmegy bread sauce and, when I have eaten there, some fabulous corn. Like Hoover for vacuum cleaner and Kleenex for tissue, when I see chicken on a menu, my mind leaps back to these two dishes. They are the quintessence of chicken for me.

So Vero was going to have a few problems from the get go. Because when they announced a special of poached chicken with black truffle, polenta and a lemon sauce, my mind went into munching mode and I was hopeful of a dish that had elements of my two favourite chicken dishes in the world. In Calgary. I’m nothing if not an endlessly hopeful girl. Things weren’t helped by the rest of the menu being all basic proteins plus some sort of culinary anachronism. Raspberry coulis? Is it still 1989 here?

Starters came and went, with the standout a Dungeness crab-cake that I wished I’d ordered rather than the sub-TGI Friday boneless-ribs. There was a nice touch and a nod to their tapas menu, with an amuse bouche of a single, glossy and fat Puglian olive and some small chunks of Parmesan Reggiano. But this was served after we’d started our appetizers. Along with the bread. And the heart shaped butter flavoured with sun dried tomato. And the wine.

The service here is sweet and well-meaning, but it needs some help. We were really rushed towards the end, with desert menus and coffee being offered before one of us had even finished our main. Which is no problem, just tell us if you’re doing a second seating and you need the table back (and generally speaking, I’ll go somewhere else. Because I like to decide how long my supper is going to take me to eat, thank you very much) but don’t rush us because the poached chicken special was running with blood and you have to send it out again.

They did everything they could to put it right. Apologies, comped the chicken, sent a glass of delicious wine (the name of which I never did find out) and offered us free deserts. I was half hoping for a snog from the chef, but this never materialized.

So I hate to be negative, and I really should go back for late-night tapas. God knows Calgary needs something chic and chi-chi for late nights. Perhaps Vero will be great for that. Just beware the chicken.

Vero Bistro Moderne is at 209 10 Street NW AB Calgary 403-283-8988
Manresa is at 320 Village Lane, Los Gatos, CA 408- 354-4330
Glebe Point Diner is at 407 Glebe Point Rd Glebe, Sydney +61 2 9660 2646

Calgary Pork Bun Tasting

The buns
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

Eileen kept bringing me delicious pork buns to taste and I got to thinking. Who makes the best baked cha sui baau in Calgary?

This is the sort of thing that runs through my head a lot. Sometimes the voices get so loud that I have to lay down in a darkened room to try and get them to quieten. Why haven't I read the complete works of Dickens? Who is the fifth cylon? What is the collective noun for bears? (Because I don't really like him, Cally and a sleuth, in case you were wondering). Sometimes it gets very tiring in my head.

Luckily I'm an inquisitive soul, generally determined to find out answers. So I gathered a small group, including the lovely Eileen, and we set out to find the best pork buns in Calgary.

Eileen did a lot of the leg work and had already pulled a list of five potential bun sources. So went set off in Taryn's truck, nearly running over Martin Fowler on the way.

Once back in the office, the buns were laid out in a blind tasting. Each was initially graded for appearance, specifically, how much were we looking forward to eating it. Bun B was "freaking Taryn out" because of the "sneaky peek" she was getting of the filling. I'd always seen this as a plus, myself, but I guess there's no accounting for taste. Bun D was marked down for the glaze being "uneven" (yes, we are bun fascists) and bun A was the aesthetic favourite of everyone.

So onto the tasting. We were looking for a bun that had a good ratio of filling to bun, with a "proper" barbecue flavour and that wasn't too sweet. Bun A got off to a good start with a good meat to bun ratio (so important, don't you find?) and Bun B was marked down for "gooey meat" and "way too much bun." Bun C was slightly criticised for some large chunks of fat but overall, the meat plenty was lauded. Bun D was left largely untouched because of the "chemical flavour", "low quality meat" and the fact that it "just tastes wrong." Bun E saw us all on some some sort of pork high and we started making talking faces out of the buns as we enjoyed the "lots of filling."

So the time came to unveil the winner. It turned out the Bun A, from Logos Bakery was the winner, and it was 10cents cheaper than all the others too. However, it is a bit of a schlep, so the best downtown pork bun went to ABC Bakery. Yum.

The worst one? I try to celebrate the good, but I think you'd do well to avoid Maxima's. There, I warned you.

Logos Bakery and Cakehouse is at 1623 Centre St NW (403) 230-1688
ABC Bakery is at 112C 3 Avenue SE (403) 266-2888

Tomato and Spinach Soup

Veggies
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

It’s Sunday and I’ve had a hard day of shopping. I’d frozen a couple of servings of the lovely roasted tomato soup I made last Sunday, and needed to use up some spinach.

So, I was going to make tomato and spinach soup.

Easy enough, you defrost the soup, add some spinach and heat until the spinach has wilted. Blend, et voilà, a whole new soup for another week.

One thing you must always remember, is to wait until the soup is cool before you blend it. Because if you don’t, you run the risk of shattering the blender and, if the universe is really conspiring against you, the lid coming off the blender and ending up covered in an arterial spray of roasting hot soup.

Luckily only the latter happened to me tonight. I'm with Baudelaire. Laugher is human and often prompted by the misfortune of others. But never again will I laugh when someone slips on a banana-skin or a child gets hit in the head with a swing. Because a jet of soup to the face, chest, floor and kitchen cupboards is no laughing matter.

I’ve just picked a lump of spinach out of my hair and have spent the last three hours with an icepack on my face.

No, really, stop laughing.

Tomato Soup and Cafe Vue

Tomatoes
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

You already know that the weather here was glorious on the weekend. I ate some lovely ice-cream, I spent a morning at a spa being massaged to within an inch of my life and I invested in a winter coat that, according to the sales girl, will see me to -20 degrees.

Sunday saw me eating at a vegetarian restaurant, and I think that this is where it went awry. It's called The Coup and, given I'd just done a really intense yoga session and was craving some protein, I bimbled merrily along, assuming that it was a chicken joint based entirely on the fact that chickens live in coups.

Of course, I was wrong.

We shared a platter of what can only be described as compost. Readers of a gentle disposition might want to look away now, but they served a curry cream cheese dip, garnished with banana. *Involuntary gag*. I'll admit that the yam chips were OK, but really, this kind of food isn't going to convince anyone that not eating meat is a positive lifestyle choice. For the record, I have nothing against vegetarianism or vegetarians. I save my disdain for the vegans. But really, this place was a new low on the deliciousness scale.

The irony is, I was going home to prepare some vegetables.

I'd had a sensational tomato and basil soup at Vue Cafe on Saturday, and so had spent more than a couple of hours attempting to procure some decent tomatoes to replicate the dish at home. Vue is a sweet little place, in the middle of an art gallery and serving a really simple menu, along with some wines and beers.

I love any place where the wine list has a sense of humour, and Vue is set up to put a smile on your face. The service is relaxed, chatty and attentive. The menu an example of knowing what you do well and not being scared to serve it. The cheese and herb biscuit that came with my soup was a perfect example of warm, busomy, biscuity goodness. They dealt well with an oil-slick Binky, so relaxed from my massage that I was at risk of sliding off my stool.

But back to the tomatoes. The ones in the photo weren't *quite* as good as the heirloom tomatoes I picked up at the Farmers Market last week, but once they were roasted, pricked with chili and soused with some smoked salt, then liquidised with some garlic and onion, they made a perfectly delicious roasted tomato soup that was head and shoulders above the vegetable abominations I'd been served earlier.

The Coup is at 924b 17th Avenue SW Calgary, Alberta Canada
Ph: 403.541.1041. Really, I would give it a wide berth.

Vue Cafe is situated inside Virginia Christopher Fine Art at 816-11 Ave SW. Ph 403.263.4346

The Newbury Spa is at 720 – 11th Avenue SW Ph. 403.265.7499

Gelato

Gelato
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

What an amazing weekend! It was about 22 degrees in Calgary, so everyone was walking the streets semi-naked.

Of course when it's hot, it's gelato time* and I was lucky enough to find an interesting spot in Kensington.

So do you know what the difference is between ice-cream and gelato? I always prefered gelato. It was lighter and the flavours truer than ice-cream (although I'm never going to pass up a scoop of any icey-goodness, if the truth be told). Turns out that gelato is made with milk (generally full-cream, natch) but generally speaking, the fat content is much lower than that of ice-cream (7-10%, as opposed to 15+%), which is made using a hell of a lot of a cream (the clue's in the name, see?). You'll also find that a lot less air is added during the commercial gelato making process (cos traditionally, they'd use a really long wooden spoon), meaning that you're getting a denser, richer product. Which also means it melts more easily, as you'll see in the photo. Not that I believe Fiasco stir their gelato with a wooden spoon. It's the march of progress. *Big sigh*.

Hazelnut is my gelato flavour of choice, followed by strawberry. Or Ferrero Rocher. This developed during a lovely trip to Sirmione, where every day I intended to try a different gelato, but just couldn't get past the hazelnut. It can be an elusive flavour; if too much sugar has been added, the roasty, toasty flavour of the hazelnut is lost. It's also a bitch to make.

I think I am in a position to give you a round up of where to get the best hazelnut gelato...

1. Gelateria Cafe 2000. Sydney. Tonino Lo Iacono is Sydney's best gelato maker. I'd walked past this place a hundred times before I popped in, and my tongue nearly fell out of my mouth when I tried his hazelnut gelato. He makes tiny batches, all by hand and even makes his own fruit/nut bases. Sadly many people use commercial bases these days. He even grinds his hazelnuts by hand, to make sure that his hazelnut gelato is perfect.

2. Scoop. London. Everyone was wetting their pants about this place when it opened. London isn't really a gelato town...Let's just say that it was a good job I had left for Sydney when this place opened. It's about 150 meters from my old office. My gelato was served by a 13 year old boy. I'd like to see more child labour in the gelato industry.

3. Any gelato place in Sirmione, Lake Garda. Really. Just go. It's a lovely trip. I can recommend some hotels if you'd like. And a great place for osso bucco.

4. Fiasco. Calgary. OK, so it's probably not a world's best and the caramel gelato was just yeuck (think foamy, sugary nothingness, rather than strident, almost burnt caramel which I was expecting) but the hazelnut was pretty damn good. They'd got the sugar balance right and there was that extra creamyness that you get from the hazelnuts. Very yum.

Gelateria Cafe 2000 is at 650 Darling Street, Rozelle, Sydney. They also serve a limited Italian menu, which is variable in quality but earnest in its authenticity. I'd just have the gelato and a flat white, to be honest.

Scoop is at 40 Shorts Gardens, Covent Garden, London.

Fiasco has three locations. Check out their website for more details.

*Actually, I don't really care if it's hot, I'll eat gelato anytime, but I wanted to gloat about the weather. You'll get your own back when I am snowed in, eating triscuits.

Sun Chui Kee BBQ Restaurant

Steamed Tilapia
Originally uploaded by Suzi Edwards

I’m lucky, I appear to be surrounded by people who know where to get the best out of Calgary’s restaurants. Tonight’s meal at Sun Chui Kee BBQ Restaurant was...delicious.

There’s nothing worse than going to a Chinese restaurant and discovering that everyone else wants chicken with cashew nuts or a spring roll. Luckily tonight I was surrounded by people who love to eat, as well as someone who knew how to get the most out of the menu.

We started with some tiny little dried, salted anchovies and peanuts, while Eileen ordered for us. We ended up with a feast. Some amazing crispy skin chicken with salt and soy for dipping. Sichuan style aubergine. Fabulous silken tofu with pork, dancing with bonito flakes sprinkled over at the last minute. Some amazing pea shoots, sweet yet metallic with freshness. Thai style beef flank with boy choi in a spicy, umami rich sauce. Clams with black bean. Singapore noodles. Shirley Bassey fried rice (oh, OK, Big Spender rice, with roe, scallops, squid and prawn). And a whole Tilapia steamed with ginger and spring onions.

There wasn’t a dish that wasn’t good or very, very good. Well, apart from the complimentary coconut tapioca pudding, but that’s just not my thing. I tried some, because you allegedly live for an extra 75 days every time you try something new.

The restaurant is next to a good sized Chinese supermarket, so I was able to stock up on fermented, salted black beans, wonton wrappers, tofu and bok choi. I just wish I had at least one of my Chinese cookery books with me…I would be cooking adventurously this week.

A pre-visit Google turned up very little, apart from the news that Sun Chui Kee was closed for health violations in 2006. I don’t care though, believing that the deliciousness of a Chinese restaurant, is often inversely proportionate to the cleanliness of the kitchen. I was proved right tonight.

Sun Chui Kee is at 1423 Centre Street NW.