Sometimes I wonder if I’m working or just playing in the sandbox all day. These are a few of the things keeping me inspired the past while.
In bake theory class, being taught about chocolate and tasting it. Analyzing the different properties in each bar, from milk to dark. My favourite, a smokey, peaty, dark chocolate that was slightly acidic, bitter and sweet like dried cranberries. After eating, it’s toasty flavour sat on the sides of my tongue. The darkest chocolate: cooked dried fruit, bananas, toastiness, lingering bitterness on the back and sides of my tongue.
In the heat of summer, on Peninsula Ridge vineyard, serving mesquite smoked veal tenderloin with scape butter and Moosehead pickled zucchini. Meticulously harvesting sage and chive flowers from the stem and sprinkling each hors d’ouevres with them as a finishing touch.
Waking up in the morning distracted by thoughts of black radishes and whole grain mustard. Piles of gently roasted red, purple and white potatoes, in a pebble-like pile coated in sea salt and cat-tail powder, surrounded by a pond of broth. Nasturtium petals floating around them like whimsical lily pads.
Pasta with preserved lemon and scapes, herb poached chicken fanned atop, topped with a tight, shiny blonde miso and shiitake velouté. Marinated flank steak sliced into marbled strips, over-top a mound of wilted spinach, surrounded by the strongest mustard greens and arugula the ground has to offer. Drips of saba and thoughtfully sprinkled flakes of sea salt.
Wandering around St. Lawrence market, golden croissant in hand, light and fluffy with a buttery crust, crunching.
Light sparkling, refracted in glasses of wine and shining off of the lips of plates, eager for food.