Mushroom Bourguignon That's Ready in One Hour
Plus – decadent, make-ahead blue cheese mashed potatoes and my Three Rules for a making a super fast, super delicious, dinner.
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There’s someone in my neighbourhood who is an amazing cook.
I don’t who this person is. I don’t know where they live. I don’t even know what they’re cooking.
But everyday, both around noon and again about four, the smells that waft through the air are captivating. A heady mix of onions and spices, something indefinable but familiar. Is it a soup? A stew? A pasta?
I sniff them out like a hound dog, nostrils twitching, breathing shallow and quick, head held high in the air trying to catch the scent’s direction and its source.
I imagine a dedicated grandma rhythmically chopping, stirring, and roasting good things in her small, but efficient, kitchen. Grandkids coming at home at lunch; the family at large after school and work in the fading, golden light of the day to a warm home full of the comforting smells they love, but maybe take a little for granted. Every day there’s a family favourite – satisfying and deeply delicious. Hearty and warming in winter, fresh and fragrant in summer.
Before we carry on, last week’s post with the recipe for Nostalgic Chicken Parmigiana got caught in the matrix and sent out to almost no one. I’m really sorry about that, but you’ll have to take it up with Keanu. Here is the link to read it now.
Neither of my grandmothers were what you would call great cooks but each had a trick or two up her sleeve. My dad’s mum could make incredible pie crust (the secret is lard), and a decent, if boozy, trifle. (My Nanny never did shy away from a nip or two.)
My mum’s mum, a thrifty and inventive cook (you might remember the food poisoning story), who passed away last year at 97, did an excellent chicken soup, braised red cabbage, potato salad, and rouladen. That quartet made up most of our holiday meals at her house, which I was quite fine with and still am.
Even though neither were Michelin-star chefs, I remember the cooking smells of their houses quite clearly. I loved going to my family’s holiday lunches and dinners, it was pure joy to me.
My own mother (you remember Babs) is a terrific cook. Growing up, she didn’t have nearly as much time as my grandmothers, yet she somehow managed to balance working all day and making something delicious most nights.
(Occasionally, when she had enough, some Friday’s were reserved for “clean out the fridge” dinners. A joyful platter of JM Schneider’s cheddar cheese, Bic’s pickles, kielbasa, Ritz crackers, pimento-stuffed olives, and all the other bits and bobs that needed using up. My parents would sip wine while my sister and I were allowed to run around and come to the table to pick at something when we were peckish before darting off to the next important activity. Those early days of cheese and charcuterie for dinner were my absolute favourite way to eat – and still is. But more on that another time.)
Thinking back, I think the key to my mother’s success, even if she didn’t realize it at the time, was she had an easy repertoire of recipes that basically riffed off one another: chilli con carne (The 80’s Canadian-ized, not authentic, but nonetheless delicious, version), meat sauce/meat balls with spaghetti, hamburgers, meatloaf, lasagna, shepherd’s (technically cottage) pie. At the time, meals felt fresh and different from the last, but all the while were really just a switch up of spices and a slightly different cooking method. Quite smart.
Unfortunately, like my mum, I don’t always have the time my grandmothers had to dedicate to creating a meal. Even on weekends, when many of us have a few extra hours to putter in the kitchen, I am usually teaching wine courses most Saturday or Sunday afternoons – sometimes both. But taking inspiration from Babs, who was able to get home at five and have dinner on the table by seven, I lean hard into quick dinners that still impress.
