This is My House Red for Spring

Plus – two excellent dips for spring parties and the best way to make a G+T

Pigeon Dance

Two pigeons, looking to nest, landed on my balcony on Easter Sunday. And I, like a complete psychopath, ran out on my patio, arms flailing and screaming at the top of my lungs to scare them away.

Despite what the calendar suggests, or the weather implies, this is my official start to spring.

I live in Toronto. A city, like many metropolises, that seems to have as many pigeons as it does people. My condo building is mercifully pigeon-free, except for a few months in spring, when birds, looking to start a family, seek a place to build a love nest away from the flock of meddling relatives.

And this is when my alter ego, The Crazy Lady of the 12^th Floor, surfaces. Like Mr. Hyde to my normally calm(ish) Dr Jekyll, this hidden personality of mine blooms like an early-spring crocus, busting through the balcony door to level my terror at unsuspecting pigeons. No matter my outfit, my activity, or time of day, when I hear that forlorn coo, I race outside in any weather, taking up arms with whatever is in hand from my interrupted activity: a broom, frying pan, spatula, tennis racket.

Speaking of which. One year, in the dead of night, an insomniac pigeon was strutting around my balcony floor. I woke up (and this is probably too much information, but I sleep without clothes), grabbed my tennis racket that was lying nearby from an evening lesson, and ran out there in all my lily-white glory. I scooped the bird on my racket strings and tried to launch him (or her) into flight (more like flipping a pancake, instead of firing a serve – no need to call the SPCA). But each time I lifted it, the bird wrapped its toes (do birds have toes?) in the mesh, so it mostly rode up and down with the waves of my racket. I, slightly deranged from having been woken from a rare, deep slumber, and equally frustrated by the ridiculous scene of pigeon-tennis-nudity on my lanai, nearly threw the whole thing – the racket and the bird – over the side. However, in the crucial moments leading up to the unceremonious launch, the disgusting – and fairly arrogant, I might add – creature flew away.

And this is the annual spring dance between the pigeons and me.

I’m not the only one. Last year my neighbour built some sort of reflective device out of tinfoil – a city scarecrow, if you will – with the idea that the reflections would scare scouting birds away. Perhaps my title of Crazy Lady of the 12^th Floor is being challenged.

The Only Way to Make Me a G+T

A G+T taken in Costa Rica a few winters ago, sadly not in Toronto on Easter Sunday

Despite Easter coming early this year, Sunday was a gloriously mild and sunny day in Toronto. Not so warm that we were able to sit in the garden for afternoon cocktails, but enough that gin and tonics were the obvious, and perhaps mandatory, choice for a starting drink.

A G+T is glorious in its sophisticated simplicity, but one that I gently dial up a bit with splash of good vermouth.

Makes: 1 drink
Bartender level: easy

Ingredients:

• 2 oz London Dry gin (I like Beefeater and I’m comfortable with my decision)

• ¼ oz dry vermouth (I like Tawse)

• Juice from a half lime

• Tonic water, about 3 oz, for topping (I like Schweppes – maybe not what the hipsters go for, but it’s truly the tastiest.)

How to Make It:

1. Into a shaker filled with ice, add the gin, vermouth and squeeze half a lime. Shake until well chilled.

2. Pour into a rocks glass filled with ice, top with tonic water.

3. Ahhhh.

Spring Starters

Along with our citrusy gins, we served a plentiful crudité board with a selection of dips.

I like to keep snacks light before dinner. Just a little nosh that is generous enough to satiate but not enough to stuff. There’s still room for dinner after the starting nibble.

This Isn’t Hummus

This chickpea spread is a constant at my gatherings. It’s surprisingly delicious and delightfully simple – even with cooking beans from dried. You could try using canned beans to skip a step, but your results won’t be as good: the flavourful broth is integral to the finished dip.

People are tempted to call it hummus – and honestly, I don’t really care what you call this spread – but it’s really not. The best definition of hummus I could find is that hummus is a smooth puree of chickpeas, tahini, and acid – typically lemon juice. This decidedly lacks the tahini and forgoes hummus’ silky texture. What you’re looking for instead, is something robust and with a bit of chew.

Makes: About 4 cups
Chef level: easy

Ingredients:

• Two cups braised chickpeas

• ½ cup braising liquid

• 2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice

• Salt and pepper, to taste

• ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

How to Make It:

1. Add chickpeas, braising liquid, lemon juice and salt and pepper to a food processor and blitz to combine.

2. While the motor is running slowly pour in the olive oil in a steady stream.

3. Serve. I like to decorate the top with a smattering of whole chickpeas, diced preserved lemon, fresh herbs, and sometimes a drizzle of good olive oil, but you can do whatever you would like.  

Spicy Roasted Red Pepper and White Bean Dip

This spread is a winner.

Not only is it healthy, which isn’t necessarily my governing focus, but it’s wildly flavourful without being heavy. I’ve seen a lot of similar recipes that call for cream cheese or sour cream, but I much prefer this lighter version that truly delivers on taste.

This may have a few “far-out” ingredients like miso, nutritional yeast, or Calabrian peppers, but I think they’re pretty common place these days. And once you do start using these umami-bombs, trust me, you will put that sh!t on everything.

I have offered substitutes to some ingredients that may be less common place, but you might have to play with measurements. Especially with spice, heat can vary between brands and even peppers themselves, so I suggest starting low and building up – you can always add but it’s much harder to take away. But that’s the most strenuous thing about this simple recipe – once you have the ingredients lined up, you basically just throw it all in a blender, blitz and it’s done.

Makes: About 3 cups
Chef level: Easy

Ingredients:

• 2 garlic cloves, sliced

• 2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 1 340ml jar roasted red peppers + packing liquid

• 250 ml canned white kidney beans

• 1 Tbsp white miso (sub soy sauce)

• 1 Tbsp tomato paste

• 1 Tbsp Calabrian peppers in oil, or to taste* (sub chili flakes)

• ½ cup nutritional yeast

• ½ tsp smoked paprika

• 1 Tbsp lemon juice

• ½ Tbsp Dijon

How to Make It:

1. In a small pot over low heat warm the olive oil. Add the garlic and gently cook until lightly golden brown and still soft. Turn off heat and set aside to cool.

2. Remove any seeds or black char from the roasted red peppers.

3. In a blender or food processor, add the peppers and 2 Tbsp of their packing liquid.

4. Add the garlic and the olive oil, and all other ingredients and blitz until smooth.

5. Adjust for seasoning (salt, acid, heat) so it tastes good to you, and serve.

Try This Wine!

Matilda Nieves Mencía, Ribera Sacra, Spain $23 #26322 (Ontario pricing and availability)

It was the label that originally attracted me to this bottle.

I’m not proud of it, but it was so charming I couldn’t resist. I am a marketer’s dream.

Well, I’m not really telling the whole truth. Yes, the enchanting purple-pink drawing is what drew me in, but the coup de gras for purchase was the grape: Menćia, a juicy, red Spanish variety I don’t get to try very often; the affordable price: $23, not a terrible investment if I didn’t like it; and the heavy endorsement from Decanter – a panel of judges that have tastes similar to mine (more on wine scores below) at an impressive 97 points.

Anyway, my calculated gamble paid off. I served it at Easter dinner (paired with a beef stroganoff and beet salad with horseradish cream), and nary a drop was left. I’m planning on buying a case and making it my house pour for spring.

Mencía is native to Spain and Portugal, so it’s understandable if you haven’t heard much about it. Purple-ruby in colour, slightly translucent, and medium bodied with lively acidity, this could be compared best to Gamay. Loads of red fruit – think pomegranate, strawberry, and raspberry flavour this wine, along with a touch of black pepper.

Matilda Nieves is also has a splash of Grenache and Sousón, and has been made without oak aging for a fresh, plummy wine that’s perfectly satisfying for these early warm(ish) days. Stick it in the fridge for 15 minutes to get a slight chill and served with beef burgers, roast chicken, pasta with meat sauce, or stuffed peppers.

(Wine scores can be helpful guides – but not if you don’t know the palate and preferences of the person rating a wine. There are plenty of wine judges I highly respect and admire, yet our tastes don’t align. I find my palate is in sync with the Wine Enthusiast people, as well as the Decanter people, so am happy to put my trust in their reviews.)

PS –

Some of you have asked about paid subscriptions.

I think they will be coming soon – perhaps another month or so. While Quaintrelle is a labour of love, like any labour, there’s a considerable amount of energy involved, not to mention the costs of buying wine (yes, I buy my wine for recommendations. If something happens to be sent as a sample, I note that. And if something (very rarely) is a paid product placement, it still has to be something I would honestly buy, and I absolutely let you know about the endorsement). It also costs quite a bit for ingredients for recipes – both cocktails and food. I generally make a recipe about three times before sharing the method with you.

I want to let the dust settle before these upgrades begin. My ego would love for everyone to be an enthusiastic participant, but I know Quaintrelle isn’t for everyone. Nor is it supposed to be. I would rather just share my stories with the engaged few, than the disinterested many. As they say, we want volunteers not prisoners.  

But please know I will always strive to provide more value than the cost (whatever that may be) suggests. Like anything I do – hosting Wine School or leading an event – I want people to walk away marvelling at the experience, not disappointed in the investment. When the time comes, I hope you will agree.

Despite that, there will still be some very good content for free. But again, how that all shakes down is still a work in progress.

However you choose to engage, now or in the future, I am so very grateful for your time and attention. I would never take it for granted.

Xo –

Erin