Old fictitious was not captain of a mighty flotilla. He did have a string of ships, but all of them were dinghy size. It was rare that more than one of these boats would actually make it anywhere useful, and somehow that boat was always the one with the Captain in it. Well, one of Captain Fictitious McFall's ports of call was an island off the coast of Thailand, and the dish that came from his travels there is this tropical oatmeal.

Now, it might seem strange to combine oats and tropical flavors, but - well, there is no but. It is strange, but it's also quite delicious. I've uncovered this mix of traditional oats and typical Thai flavors like coconut, mango, lime, and a bit of brown sugar from a stash of papers in Fictitious's sea chest.

Whether you believe in Captain Fictitious McFall or not, you'll believe in this sweet and tasty tropical oatmeal.

Bring the coconut to a boil. Stir in the oats and salt. Simmer for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Stir in the mangoes, 1/2 the brown sugar, and lime juice and simmer for 5 minutes further until the mango warms through. Taste and adjust sugar levels until you're happy with the flavor.

Serve in big bowls, possibly while wearing a kilt.

Since Little Brother arrived, I have had less time for the organic market than when his brother was on baby food. With two munchkins in the house, I do my shopping when I can fit it in the schedule of daily life, and that is rarely on a Saturday morning for some reason. Perhaps it's that the Critic is working again and so our weekend time is more precious. Whatever the reason, last Saturday was the first time in a few months that I had been to the market. I met up with a new friend and enjoyed thoroughly introducing her to my favorite stalls: the woman selling organic vegetables from a farm out near Disney in Marne-la-Vallée, the man who sold me the 4.2 kg duck and the chipper cheese fellows who make their own goat's and ewe's cheeses. At the latter stall, I noticed a little plastic container of wet crumbly cheese labelled "La Brousse". It looked a lot like cottage cheese and I have yet to find a satisfactory cottage cheese in France, so I bought a container and took it home.

For your information, la brousse is not cottage cheese. It's a provençal cheese and actually seems much closer to ricotta in taste, texture and uses. I'll have to stick with the mediocre imported cottage cheese that can sometimes be found at my local supermarket. But I still had a full tub (minus one taste) of provençal cheese. And so I decided to treat it like ricotta and stuff it into some nice fresh ravioli. It was time to introduce Big Brother to the fun of making pasta.

Raviolis à la brousse et aux épinards (serves 4)

For the pasta:
2 large eggs
4-5 cups flour

For the filling:
100 g brousse or ricotta cheese
75 g grated Parmesan
1 egg
3 large handfuls of fresh spinach
freshly ground nutmeg
salt, pepper to taste

To prepare the filling, wash the spinach well to remove dirt and grit and trim any tough ends of the stalks. Toss the still wet leaves in a deep pan, cover, and put on a medium heat for 4-5 minutes, until the leaves have all wilted and collapsed in the pan. Squeeze the spinach to release its water and drain it. Put the spinach in a food processor with the rest of the ingredients aside from the egg and whizz it in the machine. Taste for seasoning and then add the egg and process again. The mixture should have the consistency of wet sand or mashed potatoes.

I use Marcella Hazan's recipe for the proportions of ingredients in my pasta but I have long abandoned her method. Perhaps the technique of beating the flour slowly into the egg with a fork is the most authentic way to make pasta. It is surely the most time consuming and painful. Instead of breaking the eggs into a well in the flour and beating with a fork, I toss the eggs in my mixer on medium high. Slowly add the flour until the dough comes together in a firm ball. Turn off the machine, flour the (clean) counter, turn out the dough onto the counter and scrape out any bits of dough that remain on the beater or the bowl. Flour your hands, add a generous dusting of flour to the dough and knead for 5-7 minutes, until the dough is no longer wet and elastic, but firm and smooth. You may need to add as much as another half cup of flour. Allow the dough to rest for about ten minutes, while you get out your pasta machine.

Shape the dough in a fairly neat, symmetrical oval shape. Divid the dough into eight lumps about the size of eggs by cutting it first in half and then dividing each half into quarters. Set the pasta machine on the widest setting (on mine it's number 1). Run the first piece of dough through the machine, then fold each end of the dough over the middle and put it through the machine again. Repeat with each lump of dough. Set the machine to 2 and run each piece of dough through the machine. Continue with each piece of dough, gradually making thinner and thinner pieces, until you have a thickness of 6 or 7.

Dust one side of a strip of pasta with flour and place it, floured side down, on a ravioli mold. Push the dough into each of the wells and fill them each with about a rounded teaspoon of dough. Wet your finger and trace a wet line along the edges of each of the ravioli wells. Cover with another piece of dough and push each of the pockets to eliminate any air. Use a rolling pin to roll the top half of the dough firmly onto the bottom. Most ravioli molds have a sharp edge around the ravioli to help you cut the individual pieces; roll particularly hard on these edges. Carefully remove the ravioli to a floured towel, not allowing the pieces to overlap or touch. Repeat until you have used up all the dough or all the filling. Allow the ravioli to dry for 15-20 minutes and then set your water to boil. (Do not try to dry pasta next to a boiling pot of water, because it just won't work.)

Cook for 3-4 minutes, or until all the pieces of pasta have bobbed back to the top of the boiling water. Serve with butter and mounds of freshly grated parmesan. You could also fry a few leaves of fresh sage in butter for a simple tasty sauce.

Many years ago, in our careless child-free days, the Critic and I played a lot of snooker. We even belonged to Paris' only snooker league and this necessitated getting up at what then seemed an ungodly hour on Sunday mornings. (Now, of course, 8 a.m. is considered a pretty good lie-in...how times have changed!) And being young(er) and child-free, we had usually indulged in an alcoholic session the evening before. So once a month would find us at nine a.m. scoffing bitter black coffee and croissants with a slightly jaundiced eye. And by noon we would be ready for something more substantial. There is something about a hangover that begs processed, salty, hot food. And this is how I became intimately acquainted with a phenomenon known as the Super Hot Dog (pronounced Soup-air Ott Dogg). You can find them across France in cheap cafés. It's the one dish that is served at any time of the day and mostly to students and manual workers. Although it would pain most tourists to eat something so "American", it is genuinely a part of the French food landscape. And I became totally addicted. Your basic saucisse frites (sausage and fries) is just that: a plate with a couple of hot dogs, some fries and a basket of bread on the side. But a super hot dog is encased in a crisp baguette, slathered with mustard so hot it makes your eyes water, topped with grated gruyère cheese and placed beneath a grill until the cheese is melted and crispy in places, the hot dog warmed through. It's greasy and salty and crunchy, the perfect fast food.

And then, one day, they were gone.

I'm not saying we quit playing snooker because café at the snooker club stopped serving them. The smoke was getting to us too, in those pre-smoke-free-Paris days. But really, once the Super Hot Dogs were off the menu, my motivation sadly faltered. And then we had children and our lives became full in new ways. I sometimes miss the snooker. But I no longer miss the Super Hot Dogs. Because I now have a boy who likes hot dogs for lunch. And armed with a baguette and a bit of cheese, I can make my own Super Hot Dog. I can even improve it (a little).

To make your own Super Hot Dog, you will need:

2 all pork hot dogs
1 piece of baguette roughly the same length as a hot dog
1 Tbs very hot mustard
1 Tbs ketchup (optional and I know I'm being controversial here. But I like ketchup...)
3-4 pickled hot peppers
a handful of grated gruyère cheese (about 60-70g)

Split open the baguette and slather with the mustard and/or ketchup. Heat the hot dogs in the microwave for 30 seconds and then place them side by side in the baguette. Dot with hot peppers. Press closed and carefully sprinkle the cheese over the top. Place on a baking sheet and slide in the oven under the broiler or grill. Grill for 4-5 minutes, or until the cheese is bubbling and the bread is crisp (but not burnt). Consume with great enthusiasm. The proper accompaniment is either a diet cola or fizzy water. And you'll need napkins...

Tonight, as I was making it, I was more thoughtful than usual. Last night a friend of mine called to say that her cousin, one of my oldest friends in Paris, had died unexpectedly. I haven't seen Charles in almost a year. The last time I spoke with him he was on the point of returning to California for a few months to help his sister find a nursing home for their father and help with the move. I have asked mutual friends a few times in the last year if they had any news, but no one did and so I assumed he was still with his family back in California. I was wrong; he was back in Paris and I could have seen him. But now it is too late. And so I was thinking of Charles, and the many meals I have made for him. Back when I was dating his best friend, I had to keep track of his many food allergies and balance them with the best friend's food aversions. Later, he was a regular guest at Easter or Thanksgiving, always showing up with a bag of potato chips as a contribution - a bit like a college student, for all that he was four or five years older than me. Another food memory came to mind - being invited to dinner by Charles' cousin Eileen, whose speciality was a kind of pasta with cheese and nutmeg sauce. So I added some nutmeg to the dish. And when it was done and ready to eat, I thought of another of my oldest friends in Paris, Claire. Claire and Charles and I went on a memorable trip to Oktoberfest some ten years ago and at the end of it I think we were close to strangling Charles. He had many wonderful qualities (for example, he would never drink wine when he went out with us because he knew that our friend Ken would throw the keys at him at some point in the evening and declare "YOU are driving us home") but they didn't come out that weekend in Munich. But we were friends many years ago, even if life had pulled us in different directions of late. So I opened a bottle of Gewurztraminer while I thought of Claire, who spent a year studying in Alsace and sometimes would buy us a nice bottle of sweet wine when we were feeling flush.

All day long, I have been feeling a bit emotional, a bit more inclined to cuddle with my boys as I remember this friend who died alone in a flat in Paris. I guess it's not surprising that making dinner brought back more memories - there isn't much in this world that is more emotionally charged for me than making food. It reminded me that I should call Claire tomorrow and ask how she is. I sent a message to my friend Martin in London. My friend Tom, who shared this simple spaghetti and garlic dish with me more times than I care to remember when we were at university surely deserves a call.

I smile when I remember making this dish with my friend Tom, back when we were in our early 20s. I would see him get out the pasta and inquire, "Do you mind if I have some too?" and a pained look would come across his face as he held up the full box of dried spaghetti and said "I only have one pound of pasta..." Tom loves his pasta and back then he could eat a full box (feeds four) at a single sitting and feel like it was - just about - enough.

5-6 mushrooms
5-6 garlic cloves
3-4 Tbs butter
1 egg, beaten with a tablespoon of water
a pinch of salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg (optional)
small handful of freshly grated Parmesan (about 50 g)

175 g spaghetti

Set water to boil in a deep sauce pan. In a thick-bottomed frying pan - preferably one which can be put in the oven - melt the butter. Slice the garlic thinly and add to the butter. While the garlic begins to sizzle, wash and slice the mushrooms. Add them to the butter and garlic and stir. By now, the water should be boiling. Add the pasta and gently push the pasta down into the water as it softens. Stir the garlic and mushrooms. Stir the nutmeg into the beaten egg. Remove the garlic and mushrooms to a plate. When the pasta is cooked, drain it and add it to the frying pan. Spread the mushroom and garlic over the noodles and then drizzle the egg evenly over the noodles. Cook for a few minutes and then sprinkle the grated cheese over the top. If the pan is oven-safe, place it under a grill for a few minutes. If not, cover and allow to finish cooking to the point where the egg is completely set. Sprinkle with salt and remove to a plate - for example, the one that you used to reserve the mushrooms and garlic.

If you get it right, the noodles on the bottom of the dish will be a bit tough and the ones on the top a little crispy and deliciously cheesy. It's a very satisfying comfort dish. With all that garlic, it's just as well if you make it when your partner is away.

Although I sent the children away with a box of decorated eggs each, I still had nearly 20 hard boiled eggs in my refrigerator when the day was done. The Critic doesn't like hard boiled eggs. The baby can't have them. And I'm pretty sure the toddler is going to turn up his nose at them too, though I'm going to try to convince him how good they are. It's a good thing I like egg salad.

This is the version I made today for lunch and it was lovely. However, the mayonnaise and vinegar can be a base for many other combinations: you could omit the pickles and replace them with anchovies, or capers. I like the crunchiness of mustard seed, but you could replace it with mustard powder or cumin. Bacon bits can also be a lovely addition, especially if you can find some tomatoes with flavor (difficult in March, I know). You can fold soft fresh herbs such as chives or chervil into the eggs or top them with salty oeufs de lompe for a flavor-packed crunch. I have 18 eggs left to experiment and the possibilities are endless...

Easter Egg Salad (makes 2 generous sandwiches or enough for two salads with a bed of lettuce)

I like to make small quantities of egg salad so that it's always fresh. Hard boiled eggs can keep for quite a while in the refrigerator, but once the eggs are in a salad they seem to go stale quickly.

4 hard boiled eggs, roughly chopped
4 gherkin pickles or half an American sized pickle, chopped finely
2 Tbs red wine vinegar
4 Tbs mayonnaise
1 Tbs mustard seed
1 small shallot, minced finely

Gently mix all the ingredients together. Serve on whole wheat bread in a sandwich or on a bed of salad.

Happy Easter everyone!

Fans of Clotilde at Chocolate and Zucchini are already very family with the concept of the yogurt cake. She has posted a few variations on this French classic recipe. So I hesitated about adding my own version to the many existing ones. In the end, I was motivated by three things:

1. My recipe is slightly different and, well, very, very chocolate. That's got to be worth something to our readers.

2. Although she mentions that this recipe is particularly good for introducing children to cake baking, she does not actually have a cute kid who can demonstrate this fact. Big brother is an enthusiastic cook already, though most of his "help" so far has been limited to grating cheese (which he promptly eats) and stirring the bowl occasionally. He had a lot of fun with this recipe and I took a lot of photos.

3. The Critic is in Singapore for two weeks and needs to see photos of the boys he's missing. So I can keep him informed on what we are doing at the same time.

Obviously, I needed to post the recipe and photos. Read on for my take on the most child-friendly recipe on the planet. It really is a lovely, flexible cake: light and yet not too crumbly, perfect for little fingers to pull apart and eat without leaving a carpet of crumbs on the floor. I'm going to be making it again in just over a month for Little Brother's first birthday!

The reason this recipe is so child friendly - aside from the fact that it is after all a cake and chocolate to boot - is that nearly all the measurements are made using the yogurt pot once you have emptied it of yogurt. Little hands that have played in the sandbox at the park are very good at filling cups and dumping them; it's a concept they understand completely. (By the way, do have them wash those sandy little hands before you begin, right?)

1 pot of natural yoghurt (125 ml)
1 yogurt pot of vegetable oil
2 yogurt pots of sugar
3 yogurt pots of flour
3 eggs
200 grams of semi-sweet chocolate (I used two bars of Nestle's Noir Extra Fondant)
4 tsp baking powder (in France, use 1 sachet of levure chimique which can be found in the baking section of any French grocery store)
1 tsp vanilla extract

1) Assemble ingredients and wash your hands. Make sure the counters are (for once) clean.

2) Park Little Brother in a safe place with some plastic clips for playing. Have unsweetened Cheerios on hand for when the clips are no longer interesting enough.

3) Break up the chocolate and place in a double boiler over a medium flame to melt it. (Photo is of Big Brother licking the spatula after it has been used to add the chocolate to the batter.)

4) Preheat the oven to 180C/350F.

5) Spoon the yogurt into a large bowl.

6) Add the oil, eggs, vanilla and sugar and begin mixing.

7) Add the flour and baking powder and mix well. Stir in the by now melted chocolate.

8) Pour the batter into lined cupcake tins (fill 2/3 of the cup) or into a greased and floured cake pan.

9) For cupcakes, bake 15-20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. For cake, bake for 15 minutes at 180C, then reduce to 150 and bake a further 20-25 minutes. Again, check for done-ness by inserting a clean toothpick.

10) While Mom or other kitchen slave puts away ingredients and cleans the counter, continue sampling the batter on various kitchen implements.

11) Cool cupcakes or cake on a rack and consume with enthusiasm once cooled. (See first photo for the latter.)

Me: Daniel, I think that Olivier is interested that chainsaw.

Daniel (Deep in conversation with Alain): Ouais, ca va (yeah, okay)

Me: Daniel, he's trying to pick it up.

Daniel: Ouais, ca va...

Me: Is it plugged in?

Daniel: He can't start it.

Me: Daniel...

Sound of chainsaw being started and Daniel leaps out the window shouting "Putain!"...

So this boy is now licensed to use sharp objects. In fact, he won an award last year, came in second in the competition for the best young butcher of Paris. I should introduce him to my brother the next time he comes to visit, as my brother is also making a foray into the world of butchering these days. Big Brother has a farm in Oregon and he and his tenant recently butchered their first pig. He wrote a thoughtful post about the process and the reasons for it here.

I am so very proud of my brother, because he's a very gentle soul at heart. He believes in organic farming and peaceful living. And because he likes to eat meat, he also believes that he should be willing and able to participate in bringing that meat to the table from the very start of the process. And I'm going to go live near him when the revolution comes because not only does he now know how to butcher a pig, but my sister says he's learning to make cider too....

The cumin in this recipe works beautifully to pull together cauliflower, cheese and egg into a lovely coherent whole. I can't decide if I liked it better hot from the oven or cold the next day for lunch; either way you won't be disappointed!

Roasted Cauliflower and Cumin Quiche

1/2 a head of cauliflower
1 Tbs cumin seeds
2 Tbs olive oil
5 eggs plus one white
1/3 cup / 75 ml cream
2/3 cup / 150 ml milk
1/2 tsp salt
60 g (about a half cup) grated sharp cheddar cheese

1 pie crust (Note that this recipe, which I used, calls for one egg yolk, thus explaining the extra white in the filling. If you are using your own recipe or a pre-rolled crust, you can use another whole egg instead of a single white.)

Preheat the oven to 180c/350F. Wash the cauliflower and shake it dry. Cut off the rough bottom of the stem so that it sits flatly on a surface. Drizzle a little olive oil in a baking pan, place the head in the pan and drizzle a little more oil over it. Bake for 40 minutes or until tender. If the head looks like it is browning too quickly or drying out (mine did at about the 30 minute point) you can add a few tablespoons of water to the pan and cover with tin foil.

In the meantime, make the pie crust and put the dough in the refrigerator.

About fifteen minutes before the cauliflower is done, remove the dough from the refrigerator. Grind the cumin and salt with a mortar and pestle. Mix the eggs, cream and milk and whisk well. Stir in the cumin and salt.

Roll out the pie crust and place in a pie tin. Blind bake the crust in the still hot oven for ten minutes. While it is baking, remove the cauliflower (if done) and let it cool on the counter. Grate the cheese.

To assemble the quiche, spread the cheese on the bottom of the pie crust. Slice the cauliflower in thick (3/4", 2 cm) pieces, keeping them together as much as possible so they look more decorative. Spread over the cheese and cover with the egg mixture. Bake in the hot oven for 30-35 minutes, or until golden brown on top and set. Let cool for 5-10 minutes before serving.

In February it will be my snowman’s anniversary
With cake for him and soup for me!
Happy once, happy twice, happy chicken soup with rice.

- Maurice Sendak, Chicken Soup with Rice

When the wind is whipping around and the rain is beating on the window, I often find myself muttering the verses of this classic children's book. There is something so comforting in the thought of hot chicken broth and stodgy soft rice combined with every vegetable the refrigerator and cupboards can offer. If you have a cold, you can curl up under a blanket with a bowl of steaming soup and enjoy your favorite book or a trashy television program. And if you don't have a cold, it will keep you from getting one. And you can still curl up in front of the TV or with a good book, but without the box of tissues nearby. (Actually, come to think of it, hot soup always makes my nose run regardless of whether I have a cold, so perhaps the box is essential to both scenarios.)

Either way, it's serious comfort in a bowl. It's not fancy: you can play around with the vegetables based on what you have to hand. But this combination worked particularly well and not only did the Critic and I enjoy it, but I even gave some to the baby. All I had to do was pick out the meat, shred it more finely and stir it back in the soup. He was able (and happy) to gum the soft vegetables and rice and truly delighted with the dinner. It was much more exciting than his usual fare pureed leeks and potatoes or buttered carrots.

2 chicken breasts
1 1/2 l chicken broth
2 leeks, sliced in rings
2 large carrots, cubed
3 cloves garlic chopped finely
3 small potatoes, cubed
1 small tin of corn (about 2/3 cup)
1/2 cup rice
splash of sherry
1/2 tsp sweet paprika
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sage
1/4 tsp pepper
3-4 Tbs butter

Melt the butter in a large thick-bottomed pot. When it is frothing, add the butter. Let the butter cook for a few minutes, until it begins to smell lovely, and then add the leek. Cook until the leeks are soft and fragrant. Add the splash of sherry to the pan and use a wooden spoon to scrape up any bits of leek or garlic that may have stuck to the bottom of the pan. Add the rest of the ingredients except the rice and chicken and bring to a boil. While it is heating, cut the chicken in small bite-sized pieces. Drop them into the boiling soup and bring back up to a boil. Allow to boil gently, not furiously, for a few minutes. Turn down to a simmer and add the rice. Cover and let cook for another 20 minutes. Serve in deep bowls with buttered warm bread if possible.

Note: If you are using store bought chicken stock, omit the salt and taste before serving to see if you need to add any.

When I sat down to write this post, I had to select a category for the recipe. As you'll see in the sidebar, we have a lot of recipe categories. But we don't actually have one specifically for starters. Appetizers, yes - but those are not really the same thing to me. I guess it has to do with the fact that, despite our name, we are not so much chefs at TMC, as cooks. You may wonder why we chose the name Too many chefs when Too many cooks would have been a) more accurate and b) a more common phrase. Well a Canadian band had beat us to the domain name, that's why. And so we are chefs. Who cook for families and friends, unprofessionally. And apparently we don't often do starters. But if you are looking for a bright Mediterranean starter in the middle of the winter, this is a good one to try. You'll need to find some decent tomatoes, which is difficult in February. But I find that if you get small ones (cherry or plum sized) and allow them to ripen in the February sun on your countertop for a few days, they start to have that taste of summer.

12 sardine filets
3 small tomatoes, chopped
1/3 a red onion, chopped finely
1 clove of garlic, finely sliced
1 small courgette/zucchini, cubed

1 cup medium grain couscous

2-3 Tbs olive oil
juice of 1/2 a lemon
fresh basil

Drizzle half the olive oil over the bottom of a small roasting tin. Rinse the filets and lay them neatly and snugly in the roasting tin. Top with the tomato, zucchini, onion and garlic. Bake in a hot oven (200F) for about 25 minutes, or until the fish and vegetables smell delicious and the garlic starts to waft about the room. In the meantime, bring two cups of water to a boil. Pour over the couscous and allow to absorb for ten minutes or so. When the sardines are done, fluff the couscous with a fork. Divid the couscous in four dishes, top each with one quarter of the sardine and vegetable mix. Top with a drizzle of olive oil, a squeeze of lemon juice and a sprinkle of fresh or frozen chopped basil.

First I'll tell you what it isn't. It's not a tart (no crust). It's not a cake (too dense). It's not a tart (the Critic kept stubbornly coming back to that idea, so I thought I'd repeat it). It's not a fruit bar (too wet). It's not a flapjack (not enough structural integrity). It's a dense, chewy, crunchy, sweet and satisfying...thing. With mincemeat. It's a mystery to me. (But I'll be making it again, oh yes, because it was absolutely heavenly.)

Mystery Dessert (serves 6)

1 cup flour
1 cup oatmeal
2/3 cup sugar
2 Tbs honey
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup milk
500 g mincemeat
1/4 cup finely chopped hazelnuts

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Grease a 9" square pan, or, even better, six ramekins. In a large bowl, combine the flour, oatmeal, sugar, baking soda and salt and then stir in the oil, honey and milk. Spread half this batter in the pan(s). Spread the mincemeat over the batter and top with the remaining batter. Sprinkle the hazelnuts evenly over the top. Bake for 45 minutes or until browned on the top and no longer wobbly. Serve warm with a drizzle of thick cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

And the first person to come up with a satisfying name for the dessert (the Critic will judge) will receive a mystery prize from me. So give me your brilliant ideas!

Wendy, I bought a beautiful big organic duck at the market this weekend (total impulse purchase) and it's far too big for just the Critic and myself. Would you and Michel be interested in coming around for dinner one evening this week??

And she said yes and named her day. And so we had roast duck. I can't tell you what variety of duck it was because - in my excitement at such a big and expensive impulse buy - I forgot to ask Poultry Man. But I can tell you it weighed 4.4 kg (over 9 1/2 lbs). And I can also tell you that none of my cookbooks tell you what to do with a duck that weighs more than five pounds. Web research wasn't much more fruitful but I eventually found a site that had a chart and from it calculated that it would take four hours to roast my bird. An hour and a half after putting it in the oven (i.e. 2 hours before the guests were due to arrive) the bird was done. Oops. So now you know: a 9+ pound duck does not actually take that much longer to roast than a five pound duck, even if it is stuffed. I have a nifty electronic meat thermometer that does not lie, though apparently the web site I found did.

So the bird was a bit dry, but the skin was gorgeously crackling and the wine flowed and the guests lied valiantly about how delicious it was. Actually, they didn't have to lie about the stuffing because it was pretty darned good.

360 g brown mushrooms
1 red onion
1 clove garlic
300 g cooked mixed rice (wild rice and long grain)
50g dried sweetened blueberries
1 Tbs olive oil
2 Tbs butter
salt, pepper, nutmeg
50 ml sweet sherry (e.g. Harvey's Bristol Cream, which we always have left after the holidays)

Chop the onion roughly and saute it in the olive oil and butter. While it is cooking, clean and slice the mushrooms. Add them to the pan once the onions are soft and transluscent. Press the garlic and add to the pan. Cook until the mushrooms are limp and have given up their juice. Add the sherry and scrape the bottom of the pan to get up any bits of garlic or onion that may have stuck. Stir in the rice and dried blueberries. (You could add almost any dried fruit - cranberries would be lovely for example - but I thought the blueberries were particularly nice with the duck flavours.) Taste and add generous amounts of salt, pepper and nutmeg. Stuff, loosely, in cleaned duck cavity and truss the bird. Roast until done (don't trust the web: trust your meat thermometer) and serve with the sliced duck.

I dusted the bird with smoked paprika and fleur de sel and it was absolutely perfect on the crisp duck skin. And it didn't import any foreign flavours into the stock I made from the duck for my favourite soup.

And by the way, duck fat is ideal for roast potatoes and one large duck will yield over a cup. I'm dividing mine in knobs about the size of a large walnut and freezing them. I'll toss one in the pan each time I make roast potatoes for the next few months and the Critic will be ever so happy.

Another advantage to using frozen artichoke hearts, of course, is that this is very quick and easy to prepare! I served it over rice because the Critic also has a quinoa aversion. However, next time I think I'll prepare a little of each as I am a complete fan and think it would look beautiful over a mound of red quinoa grains!

Chicken with a creamy lemon and artichoke sauce (serves 2)

2 boned chicken breasts
2 cloves garlic
juice from 1/2 a lemon
1/2 cup (110 ml) cream
a splash of wine
6 frozen artichoke hearts
1 tsp fresh or frozen basil
2 Tbs butter
2 Tbs olive oil

Melt the butter in a large heavy bottomed frying pan with the oil. Finely chop the garlic and add it to the butter and oil. Cut the chicken in bite-sized pieces and add them to the pan. Brown them on all sides. Add the wine and lemon juice and deglaze the bottom of the pan, scraping up any bits of garlic or chicken that have stuck to the bottom. Slice the artichoke hearts and add them to the pan. Add the cream and simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through and the artichoke pieces are tender. Stir in the basil and taste for salt. Serve over grains or pasta, as your fancy takes you!

Polenta can be served many ways - and I'll be exploring some of those ways in the next few weeks - but serving it as a creamy porridgey goop is one of the most warming ways. I swiped the idea of adding cream cheese from Elise over at Simple Recipes, though I cut back on it a little since the rest of the meal is heavy.

You can make basic polenta with just corn meal and water, but adding some fat does for it what adding a little butter does for oatmeal - makes it less of a chore to eat, and more of a true pleasure.

In the picture above, the mushrooms and polenta are served with a quick sautee of garlickly spinach and zucchini. Add a little lemon to the green veggies to help cut the wonderful warmth and weight of the polenta/mushroom combination.

In a saucepot, boil four cups of water. Add the salt. Once the water is boiling, using a whisk, slowly stir in the cornmeal. Don't dump the cornmeal in all at once or you'll end up with lumps you won't be able to whisk out.

Once all the corn meal is incorporated, witch to a wooden spoon and continue to stir. Stir in the butter. Cook over medium-low heat for at least fifteen minutes, stirring frequently.

Next, stir in the cream cheese. The cheese should melt into the mix. Mix in the sage.

Taste (carefully, this is sticky hot goop) and adjust salt and pepper to taste. If you don't like the look of black pepper flakes, use white pepper instead.

Musroom Ragout
4 cups sliced portobella mushrooms
4 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup red wine
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon dried oregano
salt and pepper to taste

If you buy whole large mushroom caps (it'll take about six for this recipe), cut them into quarters before slicing about 1/3" thick.

Melt the butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Toss in the mushrooms, oregano, and a pinch of salt to help draw out the moisture.

Toss the mushrooms frequently to coat with the melted butter. Slowly more moisture will come out of the mushrooms. If they start to burn, reduce the heat and toss more frequently.

After the musrooms start to become tender, add the cream and wine and stir into the mushrooms. Reduce heat and cook over medium-low heat for ten minutes to reduce the liquids and get a nice rich creamy sauce.

Plate a circle of polenta in the middle of a plate, spooning the mushroooms on top.

In the photo the dish is shown with a quick side sautee of spinach and zucchini with garlic.

When I was young, my Austrian grandmother would make us stewed red cabbage with apple on cold winter days. I loved the jewel-like color of the dish and the sweetness. My sister once told me she had taken down the recipe from my grandmother, but when I asked her for it at Christmas she didn't remember ever having made it. So either I have an over-active imagination or she has a faulty memory, but the result is the same: we have lost the original recipe. Unfortunately, I had already picked up a head of cabbage when I found out we no longer have the recipe. And so I turned, as one does in this day and age, to the Internet. I found a lot of red-cabbage-and-apple dishes, but by the end of the search I was no longer interested in such a mundane recipe. The soup I came up with came from ideas gleaned all over the web, including this site; when one of the recipes called for caraway seeds, I remembered Barrett's brilliant pairing of cumin and cabbage and used that instead. The end result was perfect for a blustery winter day: warming and healthy and full of punchy flavors, with a beautiful purple sheen to warm the heart.

A note on the photo: I took this the first night I served the soup to the Critic, before I had the bright idea of adding fresh apple and goat's cheese to the garnish list. So if you read through the recipe and wonder why you don't see them, it's because the photo I took the next day at lunch wasn't as pretty, even if it did include all the ingredients. I take so many unsatisfactory photos that I just couldn't resist using the prettier one!

The list of ingredients for this soup is fairly short and the cooking time too, making it a perfect dish for a busy cook!

Red Cabbage and Cumin Soup (makes 4 bowls)

1 small head of red cabbage (about 400g)
2 apples, one reserved
1 onion
3 Tbs butter
4 Tbs cumin, 1 Tbs reserved
8-10 roasted chestnuts (vacuum packed chestnuts can be substituted, but will have more flavor and texture if they are toasted in a hot oven for a few minutes)
1 crottin de chevre, or about 60 g goat's cheese
500 ml turkey or chicken stock
1 glass of white wine
1 glug of Pommeau (optional)
salt and pepper

Melt the butter in the bottom of a heavy soup pan. Chop the onion roughly and add to the butter. While the onion is softening, peel, core and chop one of the apples. Add it to the mixture and continue cooking until the apple is soft. Cut the cabbage in two and carve out the hard core. Slice the rest of the cabbage finely and add it to the apple and onion mixture. Cook for five minutes. With a mortar and pestle, crush 3 Tbs of the cumin and add to the pan. Turn up the heat slightly and add the wine. When it has reduced by half and any brown bits have been scraped from the bottom of the pan, add the broth. Simmer for half an hour, or until the cabbage is completely limp and cooked through. Use a stick blender or a food processor to reduce the soup to a glossy smooth consistency. Taste for seasoning; depending on your stock, you may need a good pinch of salt.

Just before serving, peel, core and cube the apple, crumble the cheese and break up the chestnuts. Crush the remaining cumin with the mortar and pestle. Stir the pommeau (if any) into the soup and garnish with apple, cheese, chestnuts and cumin.