A Cherished Canadian Recipe - Thomas Crosby Muffins (Cheese (and Bacon) Breakfast Muffins)

So, a cherished Canadian recipe, eh?

It took me a while to think of one, to be honest. If there is one really cherished family recipe that I have, its my father-in-law's great aunt's good chocolate cake recipe. I don't know if I will ever post that one, to be perfectly honest. I am of the firm belief that there should always be a couple of 'secret' family recipes that need to be passed down through the generations, and this one, along with Grandma Horan's butter tarts are the ones that I will be passing down. I do email the recipes on occasion, if people ask nicely :)

My in-laws were here, visiting us, and as is our wont, MIL and I were sat down with a nice cup of tea (or coffee, depending on the time of the day and MIL's mood :)) and we were chatting away about anything and everything. The conversation steered towards recipes, in particular, family recipes, and I remembered the Canadian Food Experience Challenge for this month (a little late, but that seems to be my life at the moment) I asked her what her cherished recipe would be. And this led to a quite an interesting discussion, not just on recipes, but everything that makes Canada what it is, and the uniqueness of our blended heritage. I found it a really interesting and stimulating discussion, especially as a non-Canadian (albeit a  permanent resident) and an immigrant. My cherished family recipes usually come from my mother, as tends to be the case with young women, and they are all Indian. Does the fact that I cook fusion-style in Canada make them Canadian? The debate was an interesting one, and we both came to the conclusion that when it comes to recipes, food and cooking, we all bring some part of our heritage with us whenever we move and settle down somewhere else.

Canada, in particular, has been built on immigrant traditions, be it Ukrainian/ Eastern European, French, English, Caribbean, Chinese, Japanese or East Indian... and many more. If I had to look for a true 'Canadian' recipe, I would have to go back to Native traditions. So again, what should have been a simple theme, turned into another round of soul searching, and conflict, of worrying about my place in the world, and of being true to one's heritage, as opposed to blending in into a homogenous mass.

It also linked in with a post I saw about a Calgarian who saw his neighbours ritually slaughtering and roasting a goat in their backyard and got really upset about it. But he also posted about why immigrants should follow the 'culture' of the country they live in and leave any 'unsavoury' bits behind. This is how one poster put it - as he/ she says, bluntly 'When you come to Canada, there's only so much of your "culture" that we can tolerate. The rest needs to be checked at the border. Behave like a Canadian, and you'll be treated like one. Slaughter animals in your backyard ritual? Well don't be surprised when your friendly Canadian neighbor isn't too fond of having you in his neighborhood.' I wondered if this person has gone hunting that seems so important in the great Canadian tradition.

This obviously upset me, as Canada really is built on immigration and its these cultures that bring so much to the community. Suddenly its now all about emphasizing what the differences are, rather than getting along with each other. Its also ignoring some essential aspects of being Canadian and Canadian culture. How can one 'culture' be superior to another? Where is the famed Canadian tolerance? Are we really going to go the American way (generalising a bit here, I know) and live in fear of difference?

The whole story led to more soul searching for me about what really is Canadian culture... or even if there is any such thing. Obviously culture also includes food, and when it comes down to it, what really can be defined as Canadian food? I could just as easily claim that the food I cook is Canadian, just as on the flip side, my neighbour's food is not Canadian, but Ukrainian, and the ones on the other side cook English food, and the ones a few roads down cook Caribbean and Filipino. Food is just as political in this sense, as all those debates on multiculturalism and cultural homogeneity. And its a debate I keep having with myself, as I struggle to come to terms with my 'otherness' as people here see me, just as much as I see myself and my child as Canadian.

What is it like to be a Canadian after all? Are we not all Canadian, despite our heritage?  Should I forever be doomed to be seen as the 'other' just because of my skin colour? Is that British family next to ours more Canadian than me?

At this point I wondered if I should even be taking part in the Canadian Food Experience Project. After all, as an immigrant, for a lot of people it seems like the 'otherness' will always be there. Whether it is manifested in cooking Indian food, and writing a website that concentrates on my heritage, a niche, if you will, or the rest of my life, which is as solidly Canadian as you can get. I don't celebrate Indian festivals, I don't dress Indian, I rarely speak my native languages, I have all but lost touch with my roots. I am not even considering bringing my child up to be in touch with her mother's side of the world (this is a whole other debate in itself) The only thing about me that is even remotely Indian in any way is my skin colour and this website. Its my way of keeping my memories alive. But then I am told/ bombarded with messaged about how I should be more integrated into Canadian culture... a culture that has evolved by assimilating other cultures in itself. The assumption that I am different is killing me. My place in this country is hardly assured. It is easy to get caught up in my own difference, and these conflicting pieces of news/ media/ opinions were not helping.

But then I realised something else. That for every person that assumes a difference, there is another one who accepts. My wonderful family, for one. They have been Canadian for many generations,  going as far back as the second voyage of the Mayflower and the subsequent exodus to Canada. And to them, I am just me. Not an immigrant, not an Indian/ British person, not brown (or blue or green or yellow) just... me. And my friends here. And the people I work with, who come to me to learn about Indian cooking. My blogging community. Its no surprise that some of my popular posts are on Indian dishes. For every person who sees me as an interloper, there are hundreds, thousands others who accept me for who I am, who respect my diverse life experiences, and more importantly, love me. This is what keeps me going, and this is why I will continue to blog about my Canadian Food Experience Project.

After all that angst, though, the more practical, unsentimental food blogger/ sous chef side of me realised that all this drama wasn't going to get my post done on time. And in the end it was kinda easy to find my cherished Canadian recipe, seeing as I had already posted it anyway. I just had to rewrite it a little.

This recipe is my favourite for many reasons. Not just because these muffins are just out of this world good (hello... bacon??) but also because I love their quirky back story. My MIL gave me this recipe for cheese and bacon breakfast muffins quite a number of years ago. And she called them Thomas Crosby muffins. Both MIL and I figured that this has to be our Canadian recipe, not least because of its unique heritage, but also the copious amount of good old Canadian cheddar that goes into it.

Thomas Crosby was a missionary who worked primarily among the native Americans in the BC area of Canada. Legend has it he used to go by boat to the various hamlets, converting people and preaching to them. His big success was the conversion of the Tsimshian chief. The United Church, to which my in-laws belong, had a missionary boat that used to traverse up and down the coast. There were several of these boats, and the last one was the Thomas Crosby V. A lot of these small communities didn't have a resident minister and one of the tasks of the minister on board the missionary ships was to go into these villages and perform all the rituals associated with the religion. Officiate at a bunch of marriages, for example, christen a whole lot of babies, preach, help out with disputes, and then head on to the next place. One of our friends was a preacher, who still does similar work, except that he's bowed down to modern life and now flies in to the villages.

For a lot of people on the coast, including lighthouse communities, this boat was a lifeline and it was not just a religious boat, but also a source of information about what was going on in the mainland. It brought in supplies and provided communities with sustenance and also little luxuries. Simply put, it was their connection with the world.

So what does all this have to do with muffins, you ask! Nothing, really, its a quaint story :-) The reason my MIL calls these Thomas Crosby muffins is that when she went on the Thomas Crosby V Missionary Boat as a tourist, the lady that cooks for the boat had made these muffins as a welcome to their guests. MIL loved these and wanted to make them herself, so she persuaded the cook to hand over the recipe. And so a family favourite was born (er, baked!) and is handed down to this generation... story, angst and differences, all buried under tender, buttery, cheesy, bacony, muffiny goodness.

Recipe:
(Printable Recipe)

1 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 + ½ teaspoons baking soda (bicarb of soda)
1 cup buttermilk
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons margarine or soft butter
¾ cup rolled oats (normal oats)
1 cup grated (Canadian, if available) cheddar cheese
4 slices crispy bacon, crumbled (optional)
1 beaten egg

Method:

Preheat oven to 400 F (205 C)

Whisk in the 1 teaspoon baking soda into the buttermilk and set aside.

In a bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, salt and sugar. Rub in the soft butter/ margarine, until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs.
 
Stir in the oats, cheese and bacon and mix well.

Stir the beaten egg into the buttermilk mixture, then gently fold the liquid into the flour mixture.

Drop heaped tablespoons of the mixture into a lined muffin tray. Place in the preheated oven and bake for about 15 - 20, until well risen and lightly golden.

Serve warm with butter. Makes about 12 – 15 based the size of your muffin tray.

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Grilled Padrón Peppers and Home Grown Heroes

'It all started with an eighty nine year old professor leaning on his shovel' - Maryanne. 

Heroes are very personal, when it comes to me. I have heroes, people I would go 'squeeeee' and faint if I met them, but they're not necessarily people I like to talk or write about... I am a little bit funny like that. I think even my husband would struggle to name a person who he considered my 'hero', both in the food world or otherwise, simply because I find it hard to articulate what it is about a person that I like and admire. Its easy enough to spout out names with the hopes that one or two 'click' but this was not what the challenge was all about for me. So, to be honest, I did think about maybe not taking part this time around. What changed my mind was that I had already missed one posting, as things were a bit manic in my world, and I didn't want to miss another one. Plus, as it is, I was already going to be late with this post too.

Once I took away the personal aspect of this topic, though, something did strike me. Who were the people, Canadian and otherwise, that I admired most when it comes to food, both the eating of and growing of it? Well, other than my mom and grandfather, who are kind of, not Canadian?

Well, those people who grow food. Not specifically farmers, though they are pretty admirable, but all those ordinary people who grow food in their back gardens. Not to blog, tweet or talk about it, but just for the sheer joy of watching things grow and sharing the bounties of harvest.

Well, I know people like that. And one of my favourite persons is the lovely Maryanne, who plants her own 'guerilla garden' as she likes to call it. This is community gardening, but not like we know it. This is just gardening, planting food for the fun of it, and for the pleasure that it brings.

I asked Maryanne how she got started with her 'guerilla garden', and she talked about how she had always wanted a garden while living in a condo. Amidst all this, she said she used to get together with a group, who worked in an set of offices, behind which was a patch of grass and hedges. The professor, in particular, kept mentioning how well tomatoes would do just up there, against the brickwork of the building. But, despite thinking about starting a garden there, she didn't particularly relish beginning the process. And then, fate took a turn, whereby part of the lawn was dug up for replacing pipes. Once that happened, the aforementioned eighty nine year old professor took it upon himself to hurry the process along, digging a giant trench for the tomatoes, and the rest, she says, is history. She recounts a funny story about the first garden year, where they decided to plant potatoes in straw bales... 'mouse heaven' says Maryanne. 'What were we thinking?' she recalls ruefully... thankfully, the lesson was learned, and there were no more mouse condos.

I found out about the garden from my husband, Kay, when we first moved to Edmonton and were living in a condo in Garneau. Kay lent a hand in getting the garden in shape one year, and we spent many days and evenings, just hanging about, sitting around a firepit and eating fresh, local produce that was all grown in the garden. It inspired a sense of camaraderie, that did a lot to ease my way into a new city and make new friends. 

The garden has been going along for a few years now. Maryanne points to a pair of scissors on a small table by the water hose. That pair of scissors is left there, so if anyone stumbles on the garden they are more than welcome to take a piece of it home... fancy some fresh, organic lettuce? Or some beans? Broccoli? Well, its all there to share. Its part of the magic of guerrilla gardening. Its what makes my food heroes special.

I am certainly not a gardener. That would be my husband, Kay, and my little girl Adz. As Adz poetically put it, 'dad is the grower, mum is the cooker'... gotcha in one. So I admire people that garden for the fun of it. They are my heroes. 

To celebrate home grown produce, I decided to share a simple recipe, but one that completely and utterly depends on the freshest produce. One of Kay's colleagues recently brought back Padrón pepper seeds, and Kay grew them in pots on the deck. We were lucky enough to get a whole bunch of peppers, and as we were told, all we did was douse them in some fresh olive oil, and grill them until the skins blistered. We then ate them, dunked in a titch of crystal, flaked sea salt, and all I can say is, this is what summer is all about. Sweet, salty heat, utterly moreish... so much so that Kay has now been told that there better be a lot more of these delicious little guys grown next summer. 

Apparently eating Padrón peppers has been likened to playing roulette. While the majority of the peppers are mild, with a light heat to them, 20% tend to be super hot. The only way to tell? Eat them. Now that sounds like my kind of roulette :) 

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Moosehead and Caesars, Salt Cod and Tarte Au Sucre - My First Authentic Canadian Food Memory

So I know the title is a bit, WTH? But please, let me explain it all, and I am pretty sure it will make sense at the end. It's all about life, love, countries old and new and foods unusual and 'exotic'.

The first time I met my husband, I was a newly arrived, fresh off the boat Indian student in the UK. I hadn't been exposed to very many international cuisines and when I had, they were all heavily dolloped with hot sauce :) So some of the first authentic food experiences I have had are indelibly etched in my memories.

Italian food, for example. My friend D was an amazing Italian cook. His recipes were traditional and very Italian, and he made the best food I've had in forever, or at least I thought that until I tasted his mom's food, after which D paled a bit. I remember my first carbonara, my first real Italian wedding feast, and my first Italian grappa (ahem, that may be a story for another time)

On the other hand, my then boyfriend (now husband) Kay was a rare breed... a pescitarian Canadian.  I still remember looking at him in utmost bemusement when he said he didn't eat meat. Really? A non-meat eating 'Westerner'... that was a shock and surprise in itself. So, of course, the first meal Kay made me was a salad and stir fry and I looked at him and very politely and innocently asked him why there was grass on my plate? :) I am still not a green salad fan.

So yeah, the food of Canada didn't really have massive appeal to me at any point.

Probably the first time I tasted something that could be called authentically Canadian was that quintessential Canadian drink, the Caesar. It was at the Maple Leaf Bar tucked away in a side street behind London's Covent Garden Market, and populated, or so it seemed, by big, redheaded Canadians, a smattering of Aussies, a few South Africans and a disproportionately large number of Eastern Europeans. I can only assume it was the ice hockey that brought them all there (wink).

Every time we visited Canada, my first request on Air Canada was a Clamato juice, and I was always obliged. It was a running joke in the family, that the first drink I had aboard a Canadian aeroplane would be a heavily salted, extra spicy clam juice... in hindsight, probably not the best for flying, but for me, that defined the start of my Canadian adventure.

Coming back to the title of the post, though, Kay and I started off with a tradition, almost from the first year we were together, and that was our annual Canada Day party. The first year we threw the shindig, Kay was working, so I ended up schlepping down to Central London, back to the Canada Store near Covent Garden and came back with a giant backpack full of Moosehead beer. Between that and copious amounts of Caesars, I can only remember so much of the party, but I imagine it was a success. We have continued that quaint tradition, and so we throw a Canada Day party even here in Canada! Unfortunately after the first few years, the Canada Store didn't carry Clamato Juice anymore, apparently there were customs restrictions, so we relied on Canadian friends and family to bring in this contraband drink.

I can assure you I am not a complete alcoholic, promise :) Its just that the last few posts seem to have had some version of alcohol in them, but I put that down to the summer.

My first authentic Canadian food experience (I didn't just have drink experience, swear) was, funnily enough, again with my Italian friend D and his wife Cee. We were all good friends, and one evening, as we were kicking about London, D started ribbing Kay about Canadian food. At which, Kay invited them over for what he called a very traditional Canadian lunch.

Kay, who also happens to be a rather good cook himself (I haven't beaten it out of him, haha), decided on a few different items. Thankfully no grass, ahem, salad :) He decided to do the traditional Acadian salt cod fish cakes and for dessert, the very Canadian Tarte Au Sucre or maple syrup pie. It took us a while to source the salt cod for the dish, with a few trips to fishmongers around London. Thankfully our local fishmonger in Chiswick High Street told us he could order in salt cod, and we duly took delivery of it. And I am pretty sure we spent a fortune on good maple syrup too, it was certainly not cheap in London (not that its cheap here, mind!) but the taste of that pie is still one of my most favourite food memories, and the two together, are probably my first authentic Canadian food experiences. Now that title makes sense, right?

My recipe today is for the Bloody Caesar, probably Canada's favourite cocktail. I love it hot and spicy with a good glug of vodka. When in season, I love using asparagus to serve with it, though the classic accompaniment is celery sticks of course. I also like rimming my glass with sea salt, pepper and celery salt for an extra salty kick.

I will totally not claim any authenticity to this recipe, though, this is how I like my Caesars and I am pretty sure there are enough Caesar recipes as there are Canadian households :)

PS - I made sure to conveniently forget my other two 'authentic' Canadian food experiences...one called Kraft Dinner and the other Tim Horton's :)

Bloody Caesar Recipe:

(Printable Recipe)

Makes 4 Bloody Caesars

100 ml (roughly 4 oz) vodka
500 ml (roughly 16 oz) Clamato Juice (I used Mott's Extra Spicy)
1/2 teaspoon of hot sauce or to taste
A couple teaspoons Worcester Sauce, or to taste
1 teaspoon lime juice

To serve: 

1/2 teaspoon flaked sea salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
1 teaspoon celery salt
Wedges of lime
Celery sticks

Method: 

Muddle together the vodka, clamato, hot sauce, worcester sauce and lime juice. Taste and add more hot sauce, if you like your Caesar spicy.

Mix the salt, pepper and celery salt on a plate. Moisten the rims of your glasses and rim with the salt mixture. Pour in the Caesars and serve with a wedge of lime and a celery stick.

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