Restaurant Wrath - Episode 1: Oakham Cafe

Oakham House. A lovely example of the magnificent historical architecture downtown Toronto retains, interspersed between soaring office towers. This building, located in the Ryerson vicinity on Gould St. just off Church, would be the perfect spot for students looking to hang out, study, grab a decent bite to eat, and generally enjoy what little spare time they have.

The Oakham Cafe, nestled inside Oakham House, appears to offer just that. Tastefully decorated in warm woods and spring colours, relaxed and quiet, it beckons the tired student seeking refuge. A piano near the entrance hints at playfulness. Games and books are available in bookshelves for the bored patron. And the menu - unexpectedly excellent, with vegetarian, vegan, and halal dishes, organic teas, espresso drinks, and insanely cheap prices.

However, Oakham Cafe has earned my eternal wrath. This makes me sad beyond belief, as they could be SO much more. Indeed, I've even given them multiple chances to redeem themselves, given they are largely a student/campus operation (and thus, I hardly expect perfection). Nonetheless, the past three times I've gone in, I have received - to be frank - the second-most terrible service I have ever encountered.* This is mainly due to the efforts of one waiter in particular (though I've received lazy or negligent service from other wait staff on prior occasions as well). The "guy in charge" appears to be friendly, nice, and efficient, and I have no quarrel with him. However, he mainly lingers behind the cash register, and doesn't appear to wait the tables.

Before I launch into a description of the offending waiter's conduct, I should establish that I am not a demanding customer. I am polite, patient, understanding, and generally friendly when I dine. I never send food back, complain, or otherwise act in a provocative manner. I smile and thank the staff for everything they bring. I even attempt to tidy up after myself when I'm finished. I tip quite generously, typically leaving 5 dollars on any bill under 30 bucks, and upward from there. If I have been served phenomenally, I will leave even more.

Despite my consistently polite behavior, the offending waiter's attitude was abrupt, cold, and impatient. All of his instincts as a waiter were entirely wrong. The first time I encountered him, he immediately forced me to move to a smaller table, even though the Cafe was deserted. On two separate occasions, he pressured me into returning my menu despite my expressing wishes to order more food/coffee later (Note: the menus are fucking pieces of paper - and they have 50-someodd copies sitting on a shelf near the register).

Twice he brought me my bill before I was finished ordering food. I like to space out my food while I study rather than order everything at once - you know, get a bowl of soup, later maybe some hummus dip or a slice of pie, a few latte's or cups of tea. Nothing outrageous or unreasonable. In general, I don't appreciate being brought my bill before I ask for it. It's rude, and it makes the diner feel pressured to vacate (which, again, makes no sense in a Cafe which is typically half-empty). During extended stays, he would also leave me sitting for long periods of time without checking to see if I needed anything else.

The straw that broke the camel's back was the last time I went in. I seated myself at a small table very close to the register, where the staff could easily spot me. I opened my laptop and waited for a menu. 15 minutes passed, and nobody acknowledged my presence. I even attempted to make eye contact with the three employees on hand, but they were far too busy socializing to notice. After 15 minutes, a young girl came in and sat down. The offending waiter immediately greeted her and brought her a menu. Enraged, I packed up my laptop and left without saying a word.

I will not be returning.

*The first-place prize goes to a gas station diner in Upsala, Ontario, along the Trans-Canada. Here, an aging waitress actually flung silverware on our table and generally radiated pure hatred at James and I. I'm not sure why, but we think it might be because we asked what kinds of food they served, and what they cost.

Kitchen Calamities - Part 1: Purple Chicken Soup

The life of a food adventurer is fraught with risks and perils. This is the unwritten reality behind many cookbooks, cooking shows, food blogs, and other means of disseminating foodie knowledge and culture. To borrow a cliche: "Shit happens." However, it's a shame that these disasters are typically hidden rather than chronicled. There is as much (or more!) to learn from mistakes as from successes. This is the logic behind what I hope will become a series of Kitchen Calamities entries - an epic journey of shit that happens to me.

My first calamity is purple chicken soup. This soup tasted pretty decent - my husband-person is the resident "stock expert," and he made this stock from a beautiful chicken carcass obtained from Cumbrae's (Church St. between Maitland and Wellesley St. E). He likes to store the stock in the fridge, and then we whip up small batches of chicken soup with fresh celery, carrots, parsley, leftover chicken scraps, and whatever small pasta we have handy. It's great for beating back the cold winter blah's.

On this particular occasion (a few weeks back), I brilliantly decided to use purple heirloom carrots instead of ordinary, colourfast orange ones. I thought it would look pretty. Instead, it looked like something out of an episode of Star Trek:


Take-home lesson: Do NOT use purple heirloom carrots (or beets, red chard, or any other "bleeder") in a clear stock, or in any other food context where red-purple colouring is not welcome - unless you're serving it at a children's birthday party or other "weird/fun" context.

Pomegranate Pornography

Pomegranates are the fruit that damned Persephone to wed Hades, and to live out winters in his realm for all eternity. To eat one is a long, sensual, and luxurious experience. I love their thick, rough skin, like a strange alien planet...


...slicing through the rough outer layers, spilling wine-coloured juices...


...pulling back, considering which half to proceed with, and where to begin...


...gently pulling the pomegranate apart, section by section, revealing clustered rows of seeds nestled into banks of creamy white...

...peeling back the waxy honeycomb membrane to reveal another cache of gleaming ruby seeds...


...slipping a fingernail behind each glowing, firm ruby and gently pulling it loose...


...holding some in your palm, like gemstones...


...feeling them explode in your mouth, their outer firmness bursting beneath your teeth, releasing their sweet-tart juices...


...it's even better when they're drunk*...


When it's all over, savor the satisfaction mingled with sinking disappointment as you gaze at the now-empty sockets where once there were gleaming seeds...


I've always wondered - did Persephone feel her fateful pomegranate was worth it? I would be hard pressed to judge.

*Credit to Jamie Oliver for pomegranate seed vodka shooters (which are made exactly how it sounds: pomegranate seeds + vodka).

How To Make Homemade Pizza

*Homemade white perogy pizza, with cream cheese sauce, pan-
fried potatoes, cheddar, and mozzarella. One of an infinite number
of variations possible when you make your own pie.*

When I first moved to Toronto, I spent a lot of time searching for the perfect pizza. Initially I figured, "Toronto's a big place - there's GOT to be an amazing pizza joint around here somewhere." As it turns out, after about a year and a half, I DID stumble across a heavenly pizza joint (Big Momma's Boy, Parliament just south of Wellesley St. E - thanks for the tipoff, Ash!). However, I'm going to save that subject for another post. For between my arrival in the Big Smoke and my discovery of Big Momma's Boy's pizza perfection, I was subjected to an expensive, greasy, and unsatisfying stream of - quite frankly - TERRIBLE pizza experiences, and this needs to be discussed further at some point.

Anyhow, this lack of a reliable, inexpensive, highly customizable pizza source posed quite the dilemma for me, as I adore pizza. I decided to take a cue from my father-in-law, whose delicious, handmade forno-baked pizzas are a thing of beauty. However, I was pretty intimidated. Unlike him, I don't have access to a forno oven - just my crappy apartment range. I have also had long-standing quarrels with homemade dough and bready products.

However, my lust for readily available pizza and toppings of my own choosing would not be deterred. A few months and several pizza experiments later, I'm pleased to report that I've gotten the hang of the art of homemade pizza - and it is a good, good thing.

After scouring the internet for dough recipes, I landed on an interesting one using honey, by a fellow named Navid, which is now my favorite. It is VERY helpful to mix all the ingredients in a bowl initially, use a fork to blend everything up, and transfer to a floured countertop after the liquid has been integrated into the flour (this avoids nasty cleanup issues afterwards). Then knead the dough with the heel of your hand until it's stretchy and elastic. It may be fairly sticky - don't worry about that. This is what it should look like:
Make a rough "log" out of the dough and cut it in half with a sharp knife.
Grease up a couple of round pizza pans (or cookie sheets) using a dollop of olive oil and a "pastry" brush (mine's just a regular paintbrush I bought from the dollar store). Then pop the little dough balls in the middle of the pans, and cover them with a tea towel for AT LEAST an hour.
***Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.***

Once it's risen, the dough should be about double the size you started with, and airy. Spread it out carefully, pressing the dough down gently with your fingers, working from the center outward to the edges of the pan.
Now this is where the fun part starts!

First, add your sauce. This can honestly be anything. Pizza sauce out of a can is fine (or any pasta sauce you have handy). Pesto is wonderful if you've got it. Cream cheese can be quite lovely, or other cheese sauces/spreads. BBQ sauce would work well with toppings like chicken or steak. Olive oil & herbs are great if you're a minimalist. Go nuts. I used a basic tin of Unico pizza sauce here:

I like to add some extra flavorants to boost the tomato sauce at this point. Here I added minced fresh garlic and lots of fresh basil. I typically add these first because the high oven temperature can scorch basil and garlic, and the other toppings serve as a protective barrier. This step is, of course, optional. The beauty of homemade pizza is you can top it with WHATEVER YOU WANT, in whatever order you please.
Next, for me, comes the meat. Here, I've used torn up black forest ham, genoa salami, and anchovies. I also like to use Soppresata or Calabrese sausage if I've got any, as this was a favorite of my grandfather's.
And now, the cheese. Do yourself a favor, and try using some goat cheese. You won't be sorry, I promise. Then the mozzarella. And any other cheese you like. Bleu, parmesan, romano, and cheddar are especially nice. Here, I've just used mozzarella (yes, this is from a different pizza, a Margherita with basil, sundried tomato, goat cheese, and mozza).
Slide your pizza into the preheated oven, and bake for about 21-23 minutes (keep a close eye on it after about 20 until you get acquainted with your oven's "style").*

If you only want to eat one of your pizzas today, I have EXCELLENT news for you. If you cover the uncooked pizzas and put them in the fridge, the dough is even better the next day - it will rise again, and become lighter and fluffier. If you bake your pizza immediately, your crust will be crisp and thin. Which is still nice.

Making homemade pizza is ultimately not hard, and I cannot over-emphasize the sheer joy of unlimited topping options - something pizza delivery puts a serious cramp in cost-wise. Do yourself a favor, and whip yourself up a pie.

*Edit: My father-in-law has often suggested that I should be using a pizza stone in my oven (basically, a big slab of marble, ceramic, earthenware, or some other rocky substance that absorbs and retains heat well). This helps to approximate the high heat environment that makes a forno oven far superior to a conventional range. I have been meaning to try this, but the idea of lugging a slab of marble home on the subway is a bit daunting. I'll provide an update if I ever muster the courage to do so.