ReMARKable Palate #227: Christmas Food Traditions

On this week’s show, Jennifer and I discuss our family holiday traditions, and what it was like growing up making our favorite holiday foods. I grew up in New Mexico, and talk about my love of posole, tamales, and biscochitos, and Jennifer talks about making both lasagna and Cloutie Dumpling for Christmas growing up in an Italian and Scottish household!

Theme Song: “Go Fish”, by Big Money Grip, from the Podsafe Music Network.

ReMARKable Palate is a production of The Culinary Media Network. www.culinarymedianetwork.com

During our trip to Scotland, I sat down with Chef Jason Henderson from Knock Castle to talk about his approach to fine dining. I posted my initial impressions about Knock Castle, but this takes a little behind-the-scenes look at how Jason thinks about food, and what he wants people to experience in his dining room. His able staff left me with one of my best hospitality experiences to date, so if you are going to be in the vicinity of Crieff, Scotland, I highly recommend staying here. He didn’t pay me to say that, though he is awfully cute.

I’ll also fill you in on my world of Sex on a Plate, and a peek at where I’m headed with it.

Don’t forget that our Gilded Fork: Entertaining at Home cookbook is now available! You can find it at https://shop.gildedfork.com.

P.S. Are we friends on Facebook? How about Twitter? Find me here:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jenniferiannolo
Twitter: @foodphilosophy

Food Philosophy is a production of the Culinary Media Network (www.culinarymedianetwork.com).

Music: Beau Hall (www.beaurocks.com), Evan Stone (www.asamandrummeth.com)

ReMARKable Palate #210: Chef Tom Lewis from Scotland’s Monachyle Mhor

One of our favorite guests here at CMN has been Chef Tom Lewis, chef and innkeeper at the Monachyle Mhor Hotel in Scotland. We met him several months ago when he did a cooking demo in New York, and we recently had the pleasure of visiting him at his hotel in Scotland. He took us on a wild foraging adventure followed by a cooking demo, with some moments which we’ve already released on video on CMN, and more to come as he shows us some wonderful recipes. Here’s the conversation Tom and I had while on a slightly bumpy ride down the mountain to his fish restaurant.

www.mhor.net

Theme Song: “Go Fish”, by Big Money Grip, from the Podsafe Music Network.

ReMARKable Palate is a production of The Culinary Media Network. www.culinarymedianetwork.com

Our kooky day with Chef Tom Lewis of Monachyle Mhor continues, as we pay a visit to his Mhor Fish location, which combines a fish n chip shop with a seafood diner, including a cooking school upstairs.

We’ll have some of his cooking demos coming up later on the “Main Show”, but this is a Quick Bite!

A production of the Culinary Media Network.
www.culinarymedianetwork.com

We go out into the woods with Chef Tom Lewis of the Monachyle Mhor Hotel in Perthshire, Scotland, to forage for mushrooms. We met him in New York, and now we’re at his place in Scotland to discover how he uses the produce that grows wild around him in his cooking.

We’ll have some of his cooking demos coming up later on the “Main Show”, but this is a Quick Bite!

A production of the Culinary Media Network.
www.culinarymedianetwork.com

While driving near the town of Pitlochry in the Perthshire area of Scotland, we chance upon the Moulin Brewery, which brews ales such as the award-winning Braveheart, which we see Mike Mudie making, and Chef Mark gets a sample.

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Jennifer & Chef Mark explore the Scottish Highlands, and Jennifer returns with her mother to the site of the historic battle of Culloden, which has important meaning to her family. We finish up with Afternoon Tea at the Culloden House Hotel.

A production of the Culinary Media Network.
www.culinarymedianetwork.com

On our first day in Scotland, we stopped in to Loch Fyne Whisky Shop to discover their unique collection of single malts, and we get a wee taste of their very own Loch Fyne Whisky.

A production of the Culinary Media Network.
www.culinarymedianetwork.com

Every woman should feel like a princess once in a while. It makes the world a better place. After our long, winding journey south from the Scottish Highlands, we found ourselves on the lush grounds of a castle, and I felt right at home. (Shocking, I know.)

When I think of romantic, bucolic settings, Knock Castle in Crieff is what I picture in my mind’s eye. Aside from being an actual castle, which comprises a certain ancient mystique, there is a sense about the place of intimacy, respite and unpretentious welcome.

As I strolled through different parts of the grounds, I found myself conjuring up little stories — the romantic in me cannot resist when presented with such a canvas for creativity. In the lush gardens, I imagined lovers frolicking among the vivid blue of hydrangea, stealing into shady nooks for hidden kisses. The grass was so soft it felt like carpet beneath my feet, and I could picture many an afternoon spent picnicking on its inviting softness.

In the summer house, where we took afternoon tea, I pictured ladies awaiting their gents’ return from croquet, or perhaps a fox hunt. It was as if I stepped back in time and into the fairy tales in my head.

Note that I haven’t even gotten to the food yet. You’re already in love, aren’t you?

I also haven’t mentioned the rooms, private cinema, spa, incredible staff or chef/proprietor Jason Henderson.

Each room in the castle has a different theme, with most leaning more toward the masculine or feminine sides. Mum and I stayed in the Lady MacBrayne suite, which is the largest on the property, and the former suite of the Lady herself. (I am *so* high on the favorite child list right now.)

Our plush suite had a sitting room, two bathrooms (one with a spa tub), and a large bedroom. The sitting room has leather couches and a stained glass-framed bay window complete with seat to overlook the grounds.

Alas, I did not get a chance to experience the spa, which I think made me die a little bit inside, but this gives me a wonderful reason to go back. Now I just need to find a prince to come with me (feel free to leave your name and address in the comments section).

I did, however, get to spend some time in The Egg. Nanoo nanoo.

And while we’re on the subject of princes, let’s talk about the king of the castle himself. Chef Jason Henderson is the owner of Knock Castle along with his father and siblings, and the personal investment they’ve made is evident in every piece of the property, from the decor in each suite to the helicopters that assist guests in getting back and forth from major cities with ease.

Jason’s approach to cuisine is the kind that speaks to my soul, and after dinner we sat down for a long chat about food, cooking, its meaning for him, and his adventures in running a country hotel. As it turns out, we both worked for Relais & Chateaux, so we spent some time talking about the specifics of country hotels, and how different the dynamic is from managing larger hotels and restaurants. Look for that discussion on an upcoming Food Philosophy, because I couldn’t resist recording that exchange to share with you. Jason is the kind of chef I only come across once in a while, and such discoveries light up my inner gastronome like a neon lantern — perhaps he’ll spark something in you, too.

His commitment to the comfort of his guests is also very evident. I’ve stayed in a lot of country hotels where the service is polite, but either a little too intrusive or standoffish. Many times it can feel like you’re living in a fish bowl, which takes what could be a relaxing country stay and introduces a dynamic of odd discomfort. It seems that Knock Castle, however, has found an optimal balance of helpfulness and warmth, as we truly felt like guests in someone’s home, but with none of the bad parts. It was also clear this was a genuine way about the place, and not simply because we were there with our cameras — these people are authentically as sweet as toffee pudding.

Our respite at the castle was all too brief, but I’m most eager to go back. I’m actually working on some ideas to take you with me next time, so if I can bring that to fruition you might just become part of my fairy tale stories!

Thanks to Jason and his marvelous staff for a day very well spent. We can’t wait to see you again.

Our trip to Scotland starts off the right way with a tuck in to a good traditional Scottish Breakfast in Inverary. We’re here to learn a bit about Jennifer’s family heritage, and we’ve brought along her Mum!

A production of the Culinary Media Network.
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When I visited Scotland for the first time with my mother in 2004, I didn’t have so much as an inkling what my life would be like 5 years later. At that time I barely knew a certain chef named Mark Tafoya, and though I had a food blog, it was the “old-fashioned” kind, without tags or permalinks or anything of the sort.

How wonderful it feels to know that now, in addition to sharing some snippets with you from the road, we’ve also captured some of my family’s history on video, and that story can now be shared with cousins from both sides of the pond, and even those in Australia — simultaneously. We are all taking part, whether virtually or in person, in Homecoming Scotland 2009 — and you are right here with me. Do you know how amazing that feels? For the first time you’ll get to see my mom go crazy for her sweeties, and share stories about putting on her Wellies and picking fresh mushrooms after a rainstorm. She is a very special lady, and those around her know it for certain, but now I get to share her with you, too. This trip was as much about her as it was about Scotland, and though we hauled her around through a pretty tight schedule, I hope she’ll be as pleased with the results as we hope to be.

We started our journey in Inverness, where she was born, and these pictures barely capture the bucolic majesty of the Scottish Highlands. It is a land of mist and green, with the first buds of heather just starting to peek out. Soon the hillsides will be resplendent with waves of purple, but for now there is a gentle tease of the colors to come. If you ever get a chance to see it first-hand, I implore you to do so, because the sight of those hills dotted with sheep and heather will take your breath away.

The most important stop of our “Heeland” journey was in Culloden, the site of the most famous battle in Scotland’s history. The first time I visited Culloden in ’04, I noticed that the cairn (monument) there was built by Duncan Forbes, my ancestor. I was so overcome with the magnitude of that battlefield’s history that I actually wept as I took it all in. I felt proud that our family commemorated the bravery of so many men, but was a little bit disappointed that the family name did not appear on any of the clan gravestones. This was a bit of a bummer.

What I didn’t know — and what truly blew me away — was that during the battle itself, an earlier Duncan Forbes was actually the Lord President of Scotland. This was getting good. I also discovered that members of the Forbes clan fought on both sides of the battle, but many fought under the name of the Mackintosh clan, so they were hidden in plain sight from mine eyes.

All of this wonderful news was delivered to mom and me by Hugh Allison, who joined us in full regalia (yes, that includes a kilt) to explain what happened during the battle. He even gave me a little lesson in weaponry, and I found that the swords are my kind of weapon. Of course, they do resemble knives, so that makes sense.

When we had afternoon tea at Culloden House afterward, I discovered that it, too, was owned by Duncan Forbes, and in fact housed the bed where Bonnie Prince Charlie slept the night before the infamous battle. This was all delightfully overwhelming, as I did not realize the weight the Forbes name carries in that part of Scotland. When I heard the sound of bagpipes as dinner was escorted in to the Culloden House’s guests, I did in fact get a bit misty. The sound of those pipes always stirs something deep in my soul.

Needless to say, Hugh Allison has become one of my new best friends, and he will join me for an upcoming Food Philosophy podcast to discuss the history of Culloden in further detail. We shot some video with him to give you an overview, so look for that to come out in the next couple of months. If you want to learn more yourself, you can read Hugh’s book Culloden Tales, which gives a moving account of the battle and clarifies that it was not, as many think, a battle between the English and the Scottish. As it turns out, there was a little bit of both on either side.

It is such an incredible feeling to find out where you come from. As a first-generation American I feel a little bit lost sometimes, like I am straddling the fence of three cultures (American, Scottish and Italian), but this helps to put it all in perspective, because all three comprise important parts of me. There is much more to tell, and it will all be done in due course, but I wanted to give you a little snippet of my experience so far. I also want to know if you’ve explored your roots in any way like this. Is it important for you to know where you come from? What blood runs through your veins? I hope you’ll post a comment if you’ve had a similar experience.

Now, I would be most remiss if I did not mention the joy that is afternoon tea. There is nothing quite like curing the afternoon blahs with a pot of tea served with sandwiches, cakes, biscuits and scones with a dollop of clotted cream. It’s downright decadent, and Mom dove in like a starved woman. (If it comes with whipped cream, she’s in.) The photos here are from our afternoon tea at Culloden House, which was incredibly inviting after a day of driving and touring.

Incidentally, I’ve noticed something interesting about myself in the UK, and it’s happened on the three separate occasions I’ve been here. If you know anything about me, it’s that I am a coffee freak. I live for coffee, could bathe in the smell of the beans, and simply can’t get enough. Unless I’m in the UK. Then all I want is tea, and I want many cups, all day long. I think it has to do with the chilly dampness in the air — nothing cures it like a cuppa.

I’ll try to send as many updates as I can from the road, so make yourself a cuppa and check back for more. We’re off to Wales tomorrow! You can also see more photos of our trip on my Facebook albums for the Highlands and Culloden.

The first time I traveled to Scotland with my mother was in 2004, when the Culinary Media Network was a mere blog-type thing called “Gastronomic Meditations,” and my newsletter had about 4 subscribers. It was my first time there, and we were able to visit the house in which she was born — many, many moons ago. Don’t tell her I said that.

I wrote a few things about my discoveries then, so I thought I’d recap my first impressions (listed at the end of this post).

Next week Chef Mark and I are taking Mom back for a little retracing of the roots — this time on video. Incidentally, since she has thoroughly become an American despite the lingering Scottish lilt in her voice, I don’t call her Mum. She’d probably box my ears. Given the scare we had with her very serious heart attack last year, this trip is nothing short of a miracle, so I’m beyond grateful that we have the opportunity to do it at all.

2009 is a very special year for those of Scottish heritage, who have been invited to take part in Homecoming Scotland. For the entire year, the country has thrown open its doors to everyone of Scottish descent, so if there’s a trace of Bonnie Scotland in your blood, get your kilt over there lest you miss all the fun. Alas, we will arrive just after the largest clan gathering in history in Edinburgh; I would have been enraptured by big hulking men in kilts throwing telephone poles around, so it may be just as well.

Our journey will begin in Inverness, where my mother was born, and where our clan made its greatest impression (my ancestor, Duncan Forbes, built the monument at the Culloden battlefield). Then we will wind our way along the Whisky Coast, where we’ll visit some distilleries and sample a nip or two of Scotch. After that it’s down toward Glasgow for a visit with our pal Chef Tom Lewis of Monachyle Mhor — this part excites me terribly, because we’re going to make a clootie dumpling. That damnable recipe has eluded me for nearly a decade, and I *will* get it right. Though I am waiting for Mom to get after him while we’re in the kitchen if he doesn’t do something the way she remembers. This is going to be a hoot.

I’ll also be spending some time with my cousins in dear old Glaesgae, where they will speak to me in sing-songy tones I’ll barely understand, but we’ll laugh and drink and play music until the wee hours.

I’m hoping we have good internet access while we’re away so I can bring you along, but one never knows. “Access” is a relative term, I find. After our stint in Scotland we’ll be traveling on to Wales and the Costwolds, so this should be quite a fascinating trip. Lots more to come!

Ancient posts (2004):

Off to the Land of Haggis
A Trip to the Chippy
For the Love of Archibald

CMN Video: Chef Tom Lewis Cooks!

Chef Tom Lewis, from the Monachyle Mhor Hotel & restaurant in Scotland, makes us a simple Scottish lunch at the Institute of Culinary Education in NYC as part of the Homecoming Scotland 2009 festivities, promoting Scottish heritage, and urging Scots from all over the world to return to Scotland during 2009. This Chef is so cheeky, he even SERVED us tongue & cheek!

A production of The Culinary Media Network. www.culinarymedianetwork.com

It’s discovery week on Food Philosophy!

Scottish Chef Tom Lewis of Monachyle Mhor Hotel introduces me to tongue (oh, behave) and the joy of Scotch, while Maximilian Riedel changes the world of wine for me in its entirety. Plus I’ve got updates on some new features at CMN, and a whole lotta travel goin’ on!

Monachyle Mhor Hotel: http://www.monachylemhor.com

Food Philosophy is a production of the Culinary Media Network (www.culinarymedianetwork.com).

Music: Beau Hall (www.beaurocks.com).

Scotland is famous for the quality and preparation of its venison. Jennifer discovered this recipe in her Scottish grandmother’s cooking notes, which though yellowed with age, still have a powerful ability to inspire visions of flavor. This recipe initially called for a two-day marinating time, as it was used for freshly killed meat. If you are sourcing your venison from a reputable purveyor, you can reduce the marinating time to several hours.

Serves 12

Ingredients

1 6-lb. venison roast (approximate)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
½ lb. salt pork or bacon, diced
Salt and pepper, to taste

For the marinade:
1 750ml bottle of Burgundy wine
1 clove garlic
1 bay leaf
1 carrot
1 onion
4 tablespoons olive oil
Black pepper, to taste
Sprig of fresh rosemary

Preparation

Prepare the marinade:
Add 4 tablespoons olive oil to a heavy-bottomed sauce pan and place over medium heat. Slice and peel the onion and carrot, add to the olive oil, and reduce heat to low. Cook gently until tender, but do not allow to brown. Remove from heat.

Combine onion and carrots with other marinade ingredients in a large glass or ceramic bowl (large enough to submerge roast at least halfway) and place the meat into the liquid. Soak for 2 days, turning several times a day. When ready, remove from the liquid and dry with a clean cloth.

[Chef’s Note: If you are sourcing your venison meat from a high-quality purveyor, reduce the marination time to 4 hours, turning the meat every 30 minutes.]

Prepare the roast:
Heat the butter and oil in an oven-safe skillet. Add the diced salt pork or bacon, and fry until crisped. Add the venison and brown on all sides.

Reduce the marinade to half by boiling it rapidly on top of the stove for at least one minute, and strain it through a fine sieve. Season to taste, and pour over venison. Cover skillet with a tightly-fitting lid and bake at 325˚ for 30 minutes per pound of meat.

Prepare a pan sauce:
½ cup port wine
1 tablespoon red currant jelly
1 tablespoon flour
1 tablespoon butter
Pan juices from venison roast

Strain the pan juices through a sieve and simmer on high heat until reduced by half. In the meantime, add the flour and butter to a small bowl and rub together with your fingers. Add to the sauce to thicken, stirring frequently. Remove from heat, add port and current jelly, and serve over or alongside the venison.

Recipe by Jennifer Iannolo

I wasn’t sure what to expect gastronomically from my pilgrimage to Scotland. I had hoped there would be some form of cuisine that was not saturated in starch (this was the land of the deep-fried Mars bar, after all). What I did not expect to find was a talented Italian cook. His name is Archibald Clark, and he is, in his own words, my mad, mental, Celtic cousin.

Archie is the kind of person who will very comfortably speak his mind with little concern for the impact of the truth on others. I took to him immediately. His effusive charm and hospitality were a delight, even while he was grilling me about my knowledge of Scotland’s military history. Thank goodness I had seen Braveheart. While showing me his study and some old family photographs he handed me a piece of paper to read — it was his Mensa membership certificate. When I asked him his IQ, he nonchalantly replied, “Oh, somewhere around 180.” After I removed my jaw from the floor I tried to picture him at a Mensa gathering, and couldn’t quite get there. Archie is in a league of his own. By the end of the night he had me in tears of joy and laughter with his family stories, a few bawdy jokes and a serenade with his guitar.

But I truly entered a state of reverence when he showed me his herb garden and cook’s kitchen. Everything was laid out meticulously, and all ingredients and gadgets were in immediate reach. I beamed with anticipation as I watched the pot simmering on the stove, the casserole bubbling in the oven. What was in store for our palates?

“Tomahto soup.” Crafted by hand from fresh tomahtoes and hand-picked herbs. Does this man know how to win a girl over or what? I’m not sure what they do (or don’t do) to the vegetables in Europe, but they are always far tastier than the ones I find here in the States. The soup was gorgeous, and I eagerly awaited the second course. It was a savory casserole of chicken tenderly bathed in a red sauce with spices and cheese. Heaven. The dish was a spontaneous creation, and I formed an even deeper bond with him as I discovered his cooking technique mirrored my own: open the fridge, take a look around and get busy with what you find.

So from this side of the ocean, cousin Archibald, I salute your passion for cooking. May your tomahto and potahto plants be plentiful this year, and may you continue to share your cooking secrets with me. I lovingly look forward to our next meal.

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I knew it would be a challenge to maintain my low-carb regimen while in Scotland, especially given that most menus comprise battered protein and starch with a side of peas. However, I was not about to blow a 13-lb. weight loss. At least, this was my frame of mind before I discovered the glory of fish and chips.

Since returning from my trip, I have decided that I will never again eat this dish anywhere but in Scotland. Not only will this ensure dedication to my regimen, but it will guarantee that my vision of the perfect fried combination will never be tainted.

A trip to the “Chippy” is a decadent treat, and my experiences fulfilled every promise my mother had made about the delight of fried fish and potatoes wrapped in paper. The fish is so fresh it flakes apart as the batter reverberates with a crisp crackle, and the chips — oh my. I have always had a weakness for French fries, but these are like no other. It would be an affront for the Chippy to use frozen potatoes, so these are made fresh, and deep-fried to a mesmerizing golden hue.

Thankfully I managed to exercise enormous amounts of self-discipline, and kept to a mere three journeys to the Chippy over a two-week period. I also put a few miles on my running shoes to work off the carb overload, but the joy of eating my new favorite dish was worth every step. And did I mention the malt vinegar?

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Well, there’s no turning back now. The tickets have been purchased and the relatives warned. Brother Gargantua will not be traveling with us to Scotland, so the Queen has released the emergency stockpile of food. We received a lovely letter from her.

I can’t believe it has taken me 32 years to visit the land of my mother’s birth, but I am overjoyed that the time has come. Mary Margaret is eagerly anticipating fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, pastries and real Cadbury chocolate. Her childhood nickname was “Porky,” so that should tell you all you need to know. I still don’t understand how she ended up being a size 4. But I’m not bitter.

In preparation for our trip (and the research for my book) we have been unsuccessfully trying to recreate our family’s version of the Scottish “clootie” dumpling. For those overcome with curiosity, a Scottish clootie is a cloth, in this instance a pillowcase that was used to encase the dumpling while cooking. Odd, I know, but they are a damned ingenious bunch.

I tried comparing our recipe with others on the internet, but it seems that each person in Scotland has his or her own version. I have never seen such a variance in ingredients, particularly for such a complicated creation. Some use stout, others treacle syrup, others molasses, and some even use coffee (?). It seems that our problem may lie in the suet, which needs to be of the purest pearly white and taken from the area just around the pig’s kidneys. However, despite shaking down several butchers and crafting some shady deals in the alleyway behind the local supermarket, we have been unable to find just the right stuff. I’m hoping someone from the Forbes clan can help us solve this dilemma. Perhaps we should be using Egyptian cotton.

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