We were invited to stay a week with Mummi, Sumi and Mayna Deka, an Indian family living in North Guwahati in the state of Assam where we were treated to the greatest delicacy India has to offer; home cooking. An average day at the Deka’s would begin at 9am with cups of hot home Chai made from assam black tea and masala boiled in fresh fatty milk, and homemade sweeties and cookies. If we woke up early enough we would walk Mayna to school with Sumi, dropping off an empty bottle at a nearby neighbors on the way and picking up our fresh days milk on the way back. This calf’s mommy kept the chai coming.

Breakfast would come an hour later; mounds of crispy puffy luchi bread for scooping Dum Aloo (Bengali potato curry). Any left over luchi finished with fresh honey. Mummi and Sumi didn’t speak much english but they both knew the word “FINISH!” and we would obey and clean every plate.

Usually we’d buy some fruits and veggies from the wallah down the road, plenty of strange curly long spikey gourds that I’ve never seen before, including one called a Bitter Gourd which, according to Sumi, no one likes but everyone eats. Now and then we would take a ferry into south Guwahati where we would buy food from the market. Shopping with Mummi was always an adventure visiting five or six different vendors before settling on the days price of a daikon.

Lunch would happen at around 1pm and was usually the biggest meal of the day. Mountains of rice served with three or four sabzis(veggie) dishes, some pickle, lime and blistering hot jolokia peppers from the back yard. Home meals are eaten on the floor with your hands, always lots of fun!

Back at home chicken, fish and eel vendors would ride their bicycles down the roads calling out their wares “MURGI! MURGI! MURGI!” (“CHICKEN! CHICKEN! CHICKEN!”). We would run out and get a couple chickens just to watch the vendor  masterfully slaughter, skin and clean them on the street in seconds.

With the heat of the day at it’s highest and our bellies at their fullest lunch was usually followed by a little nap on the cool concrete floor (much more comfortable than it sounds). After a nap we would sneak out and get some gulab jamun and rasgulla with chai from the sweetie shop around the corner. Preparation for dinner would start early as dinner was usually a little more elaborate than lunch. After showing alot of interest we were lucky enough to be allowed in Sumi’s humble kitchen to help with cooking, often guest in India aren’t allowed any where near the kitchen, especially men.

It was amazing what Sumi could do with two burners. West Indian food was nothing like what you eat in north American Indian restaurants. The veggies where simply prepared with just a few key spices often fried in mustard oil used to cook two or three different veggies before becoming the base of a gravy which was always light and saucy. No heavy meats, just chicken and seafood. Every meal is accompanied by rice and a delicious runny lentil curry called Dahl. Guwahati was prone to power outages so we where often left cooking by candle light transporting us back a generation or two.

So here we were, a big family, cooking a fresh, seasonal, locally sourced, sustainable, nutritious and delicious feast for about $4 canadian without electricity. This just seems to good to be true. What in north America would require research, special sourcing, planning, a drive to opposite ends of the city, careful label reading and a lot of money, in North Guwahati, happens out of habit. This is what I found enlightening about eating in Assam. The simplicity in which eating fits into the lives and economy of a small community. It makes every other food system look like a giant mess.

We decided it was important to show the Deka family a little bit of western food culture but since cows are sacred in India burgers where out, so, we settled on the next best thing. We had heard that Baskin Robbins had set up shop in South Guwahati so we brought Mummi and her son Pressant to try some real north American Ice Cream. They had never tried it before, probably because a cone costs more than a days wage on an average Indian income. We all pretended to like it (it’s really got nothing on a two ingredient mango lassi) but really couldn’t wait to get home for a quick chai before bed. The sooner we go to sleep the sooner we get to live this day over again!

Shari: I was given the task of coming up with bread for brunch service that kept well, toasted nicely and could easily be made entirely by hand.   Delightfully dense, moist potato bread seemed a natural fit.  Of course this being Culina plain old potato bread just wouldn’t do.  So I switched out the potato component of the recipe for a samosa filling (sans peas) .  Oh yeah, I was on to something.  Months have passed and the variations I’ve come up with seem to be endless, with some favorites repeated once in a while.  Sweet Potato in place of the Yukon Golds is now standard, hummus for a portion of the potato, with some toasted pine nuts and fresh herbs thrown in as well.  Any combo of herbs, cheese, olives, sundried tomatoes, spinach and lemon, sage and browned butter….

Here is the multi-day process of creating something improbable and delicious from scratch.
Duck Dogs

Ingredients:

1 1/4 pounds stewing beef scraps
1 1/4 pounds fatty duck legs
1/2oz kosher salt
1 teaspoon pink salt
1 cup ice water
1 tablespoon dry mustard
2 teaspoons Hungarian paprika
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 tablespoon minced garlic
2 tablespoons light corn syrup
10 feet sheep casings

Required Equipment:

Meat Grinder
Freezer
Food Processor
Sausage stuffer
Smoker

Gerry is spearheading this project. He’s not fooling around as you can see by our professional looking recipe sheet, which includes a hot dog quote from our faithful meat mentor Charcutarie. We’re using juicy Brome Lake ducks for this project. Also we’re doubling the recipe to accommodate the average healthy Albertan appetite.

Start by boning the legs, keeping a lot of the skin and fat which will give your hot dog richness and the watery elements something to bind with.

We left some skin and a bit of meat on the bones for a stock we’ll be making with the scraps.

Here’s our harvest. Looks like about a 3:1 meat to fat Ratio. Not just any ol’ fat, duck fat.

Combine the beef scraps to your duck meat and  add the dry mustard, paprika, coriander, white pepper, minced garlic and corn syrup to the mixture.

Nothing quite like freshly roasted and ground coriander.

Now grind the mixture of meat and spices through a small die. Kudos Kitchen-aid.

Now add the salt, pink salt and water.

Mix by hand thoroughly to distribute the salts.

Spread this mixture out onto a baking tray and refrigerate it for 24 to 48 hours. This will gives the salts and spices a chance to permeate the meat.

Before grinding a second time, place the pan into the freezer for 30 minutes. Once the mixture is firm but not frozen, run it through a small die once again. Once ground, spread the mixture back on the sheet pan and place it once again into the freezer for 30 minutes or until firm.

At this point you can soak your casings. They should be soaked for at least 30 minutes.

Now take out your double grinded meat mixture. It should be firm enough to cut into pieces but not frozen.

Cut it into small enough pieces to fit into a food processor and process into a uniform paste. This is where all the freezing and grinding pays off. The water, fat and meat are emulsified into one glorious paste that begins to arouse feelings of hot dogs to be.

Although far from completion, we somehow feel at this point that our hard work is beginning to pay off and our vision of duck hot dogs is materializing before our eyes.

Load the hot dog paste into a sausage stuffer.

And slip the casing over the spout.

Fill the casings. (Insert suggestive sausage joke here)

Try to have a trusty intern around to do most of the manual labor. (Thanks Tessa)

Twist the dogs off at desired intervals. We’re aiming for a cute 2″ dog to match our tiny homemade buns.

Dogs awaiting their smoky applewood fate.

Hot smoke the dogs to taste or until the casings harden a bit and the dogs firm up enough for grilling.

We couldn’t stop there. The dogs are served on a homemade bun, made by our resident baker Shari, with in house Pikliz (haitian pickled veggies) and homemade orange mustard.

The verdict: Really tasty dog.

But most importantly, we all got to see one of those frivolous kitchen ideas become a physical thing. Then put it on a bun and eat it– just the way nature intended.

btw- you can try the dogs for yourself at Bibo winebar.

Two weeks ago, the first of my family’s spring lambs was born and christened “Tattoo” (or maybe T.A.T.u.—it’s quite possible that my sister harbors a secret love for Russian Lesbian post-pop electronica).  She was followed soon after by twins, Paco and Taco. 

I am not blind to their cuteness.  I, too, feel the tugs on my heartstrings when I watch them climbing, jumping, playing, nursing…but I cannot ignore the darker purpose I serve in raising them.  These lambs were bred for a very specific purpose: meat.  When I pick Paco up, while others might notice his wool, his markings, his eyes, I focus on his weight, his developing muscles, and his strength.  By looking at him this way from the very beginning, I am doing my best to develop a very specific type of relationship between us.  I will do everything that I can to ensure that his time on the farm is as pleasant as possible—for him, myself, and the rest of his family—but when the time comes, I understand that it will be up to me to prepare him for the roast, and that everything I have done will have been in the interest of that roast.  Does this make me a monster?

Perhaps.  Perhaps it is somewhat sadistic to raise an animal with meat in mind from the very beginning.  Perhaps it is monstrous to end the life of something you’ve raised.  Perhaps.

 But is it monstrous to be this close to food?  To have been involved at the major stages of an animal’s life before it hits your plate?  To see the moving thing that shank, tongue, or chop came from?  To see what it was like before it was “just food”—to know, firsthand, that it deserves care?  Attention?  Respect?  I think not.

So call me what you will.  I’m going to love that lamb, and I’m going to eat that lamb.

Gerry swiftly went to work on them. Hind and Front legs were removed from the body at the joint, kidneys and liver removed from the body cavity, carcass split into two with a cleaver between the first and second ribs, tenderloins were cut free, Saddle split, loins removed, and finally, the Ribs were split to make two racks.

Gerry: One thing I find satisfying about using whole rabbits is being able to use the entire animal. Not a scrap was wasted. All the bones and trim were kept and made into stock. The livers went into a Rabbit liver and fig Pate. I braised some of the legs in olive oil and then turned them into rillettes. After talking with Brad about the possibilities for the rabbit, we decided to make a cold smoked Rabbit Chorizo, and in went the remainder of the legs and the reserved kidneys.

Christine was able to use the loin/tenderloin roulade, racks of rib and chorizo sausages in the Thursday night special: Trio of rabbit on caramelized butternut squash and apple with a pan jus.

Which was excellent—especially the tiny one bite rack. My favorite dish to come from the rabbits, though, was the rabbit liver and fig pate.

Gerry: I enjoy working with whole animals. At home I only ever buy whole chickens and cut them up myself. Although it is time consuming, messy and sometimes unpleasant, I find butchering deeply satisfying and it leaves me feeling more connected to the food. The legs are more than just “ meat,” bought at the store and dumped into a pan, but part of an animal. To get that leg I had to force a bone until it popped from the joint and then cut it free. Every cut when butchering reminds that I’m working on the body of something that was a living creature and deserves respect.