My notebooks abound with all kinds of bits and pieces of information. It’s not enough to warrant a standalone post but still worth more than a simple tweet with a shelf life of 30 seconds. So, I’m starting the Eating Niagara Listicle, an occasional roundup of all things that might be of interest. And if they’re not, well, I’ll just watch and weep as my bounce rate goes up. So without further ado, the listicle.
Yearly Archives: 2015
Cast iron pans are an essential kitchen tool, loved for their even heat distribution and the iron they add to food. Here’s how to keep the at their best.
I always drink an oatmeal stout from a glass.
That way I can marvel at its murkiness, impenetrable even when held up to light.
I inherited my love of dark beer from my Oma Walter. No one else in my family would touch the stuff. And even me, as a child, couldn’t fathom drinking something so cloudy, black and mysterious — a mindset informed by living in a home where water-clear Labatt Blue was enjoyed in amber stubbies.
But the bitter coffee and sweet chocolate synonymous with stout grew on me as I got older and every time I drank a dark beer that I really loved, I’d think of my Oma as she smacked her lips after a pleasurable first sip, looked upon her glass with approval, and said “Oooh, dat’s a gut beer,” in her German-flecked English.
I also credit her with my appreciation for the cast iron frying pan. —Continue reading—
This post was done in partnership with TVO and Food Bloggers of Canada.
I took a roadie with some unlikely travel companions a few weeks ago.
It was 200 pounds of Kieffer and Bartlett pears bound for Great Lakes Beer in The Big Smoke. The Kieffers were rescued Thanksgiving weekend, their fate to become compost were it not for a small group of volunteers who gave up their time to harvest them. The Bartletts were seconds from Torrie Warner’s Beamsville farm; more knobby and scuffed than some of their relatives who fetch a higher price at market with their flawless appearance.
I made the trip with mixed feelings: excitement for what was to become of these pears — the castoffs of the fruit world — but also feeling a little guilty. Two hundred pounds is a lot of pears and someone would have to chop and freeze them to use next spring to make the second — and larger edition — of Great Lakes’ Kieffer Your Hands Off My Pears saison. I only hope Great Lakes has an intern or two.
I’ve never been shy about professing my love for beer in a wine region.
I’ve made the case for an official Ale Trail in Niagara to run alongside our well-travelled wine route. While I continue waiting for beer stein road signs to share a post with those blue and white government-issued bunches of grapes, I’m going to make the case for something else: Let’s annex Buffalo.
You heard me.
No, this isn’t asking for a do-over of the War of 1812. It’s simply loving what I see whenever I’m across the river and wanting it for our own. (Enough Niagarans buy gas and groceries there, so really, it may as well be ours).
I’ve never been shy about naming Buffalo my big city of choice between it and that other metropolis bookending us, but these days it’s more than stunning architecture, good people and being home to the Toronto Maple Leafs of the National Football League. The city is going through an incredible renaissance and those revitalization efforts have turned the Queen City turn into a bastion of craft beer among other great things. —Continue reading—