As you can tell, I’ve been tuning into the incessant chanting of friends, bloggers, and ice cream devotees alike that when it comes to this famous frozen treat, that nothing beats Greg’s in the city. One flavour in particular, Roasted Marshmallow, gained so much notoriety, and such a great fan following that Ben and Jerry’s picked up on it and put in a bid for the secret recipe. They had no luck whatsoever, as Greg wasn’t ready to give it up.

Why is it that Ben and Jerry’s hasn’t been able to figure it out? Well it’s simply because there are no actual marshmallows in the mix. Yes you read right. So how does one create the flavour of a marshmallow that has been toasting over a campfire till it’s crusty and golden on the outside, and melted and gooey on the inside. Beats me! I even questioned the infamous king of ice cream David Lebovitz in a radio interview, where he suggested I try baking marshmallow fluff in the oven and incorporating that into an ice cream base. I will admit that I have not given it a go, but I’m not sure that it’s the answer to this flawlessly smooth concoction that has no traces of goo anywhere.  Which leads me to the question, what the heck is in it?

I made the trip to their location in the Annex, and surrendered myself. Fully committed to the cause I ordered a cone, and took my first lick. The roasted flavour was through the roof, and right on. The milky, and almost tan tinge of the ice cream almost confirmed the absence of real marshmallows in the mix, although the spot on flavouring told another story. I will admit that I am still partial to Hollywood Gelato’s version, the only other ice creamery in the city that was capable of replicating the flavour. Their version is made in a gelato machine and is velvety, soft, and has little black specks in it that are very reminiscent of the charred bits one would find on a campfire marshmallow.

If you can’t make it to a camp ground this summer, then check out Greg’s at Bloor and Spadina. And if you’re camping, it wouldn’t hurt to have a tub of this stuff in your cooler.

I had come across Black Camel, one day walking back from the Masonic temple (headquarters of MTV, where I occasionally make guest appearances on their programming) along Yonge Street when I noticed a quaint little shop, with only a picture of a black camel and a simple sign “Cafe Sandwiches” to point out it’s existence. I made a mental note, and carried on with my walk.

A little bit of research led me to the discovery of their website which was concise and to the point. The simplicity of their menu was bold: only 5 sandwiches. That of slow roasted beef brisket, pulled pork shoulder, seared steak, roasted pulled chicken, and a grilled vegetable number. This inevitably could mean only one thing. Whatever they were doing, they were doing it well enough to be successful over 5 whole years by selling only sandwiches.

The shop was quaint, had limited seating including a bar like counter with stools, and one table outside. Black camels in the forms of statues, aprons, and pictures were visible and were a neat reminder of the store’s namesake. I was greeted by the most charming Eli who was effervescent, lively and at his young age somehow mastered the art of customer service. He graciously stepped out from behind the counter to meet our group, bowing his head, and welcomed us to his family run store. He was the perfect guide when it came to making our sandwich selections, and answering any and all the questions I had about the store. He definitely deserves a raise!

Being a pulled pork fanatic, I made my decision and was encouraged by Eli to try it with their house barbeque sauce and caramelized onions. How could I resist that combination? Other condiments and toppings included charmoula mayo, a moroccan inspired spread, hummus, fontina cheese, and roasted red sweet peppers amongst others. I rounded out my meal with a side order of their coleslaw.

It took about 2 minutes flat from the point that I placed my order to the point that I received it in my hand. Talk about efficiency! Opening the silver wrapper, I was amazed by the soft Portugese bun that sat before me, and it’s lovely interior stuffed with mahogany shreds of pork that were almost indistinguishable from it’s caramelized onion topping. One taste confirmed that this was the best pulled porked I had EVER tasted. It was juicy, tender, and just melted in your mouth. Unlike Lou Dawg’s pulled pork which was on the stringier side, in one word this stuff was absolutely succulent. The coleslaw made a good side accompaniment, and was light, crispy, and refreshing. It however missed that slight sweet and sour tang that I always look forward to in any kind of slaw.

It was easy for Eli to read the excitement on my face as I was finishing up my sandwich. I’m sure he wasn’t surprised though. Especially since they’ve had many celebrities, including the likes of Richard Gere eating at the cafe over the years.

The family’s initial business plan was to provide a heart warming Brisket dinner, typical of Sunday lunches in a Jewish family. With the space restrictions at their location, they opted for a sandwich operation that relied more on take out, and took their decision to the bank.  With quality service and food, I can’t wait to be present at Black Camel’s 10th anniversary celebrations. Here, here!

Here’s how I completed one of their signature sundaes from start to finish at their beautiful tea room on Île Saint-Louis in Paris. My ice cream flavours included mango, and chocolate-orange. They were unfortunately out of their infamous salted caramel that day.

Was the ice cream as fantastic as everyone claims it to be? In my opinion, the texture of the ice cream was wonderful: smooth, and just giving way to my spoon. The chocolate-orange flavour was rich and robust, but I am almost certain that their mango flavour was infiltrated with canned mango pulp, which I am not a fan of.  The crispy meringue provided exquisite textural contrast to the soft mounds of ice cream, while the raspberry coulis provided  a tangy edge that cut through the creaminess of the sundae.

The tea room is reminiscent of old Paris, with a decor that is classic and posh. If you want a classic experience, this is the place to go!

Anyhow, when I’m in the kitchen I often tend to create an excess of whatever I’m making. So one day I devised a way of giving away a slew of cupcakes that I baked. I grabbed a styrofoam box and a sharpie. In black ink I wrote on the box “Mystery Box: Dear (Friend whose name will remain anonymous). I hope you enjoy these Let me know what you think. (Signed nobody)”. I drove over to the friend’s house, dropped the box off on their porch, and waited to see how this charade would play out.

Messages on Twitter indicated that the person thought another friend had delivered the special treat. I felt slighted, but whatever, that’s what I got for not putting my name on the box. Then I discovered that the friend’s mother was on the brink of throwing the entire box out in fear that someone was out to poison her kid. I found that quite funny.

Close to midnight I get a text message asking  if it was me. “If what was me?” I responded. I know, I’m horrible aren’t I?  So I play out this mind game for another 45 minutes before I give in. This time my friend was seriously threatening to throw out my double chocolate cupcakes, and I just wasn’t having it anymore. To my relief at least 2 cupcakes were consumed that evening.

It was one of the most interesting social experiments that I’ve conducted, and I got such a good laugh out of it that I did it again, and again, and again. Each box had a funny story attached to it, with the friend not knowing what to do with it, or accessories to the stories including parents who refused to open the door when I knocked.

The Mystery Box phenomenon is one that I am going to continue, just for the simple joy of seeing people get excited over a surprise delivery. As a kid I’ve always dreamt of singing telegrams at my door, bouquets of flowers that show up for no reason, and balloons that are so abundant that they have a hard time getting through the door. Who wouldn’t like to be able to make their friend’s eyes light up over a special treat made specifically for them?

Do you know someone deserving of a Mystery Box?

Well little did they know, in that paper bag was the catalyst of my emotional state, that being euphoria. I had been united with a treat that I had been obsessively researching online for the last month and a bit…Mexican candy.

I had encountered Mexican candy once during a trip to the States and fell in love instantaneously. Being a lover of all things containing tamarind, I hit the jackpot when I found mounds of tamarind balls flavoured with course sugar, salt, and Mexican chilli at a candy store in Universal Studios. I was recently reminded of this tangy, tart, spicy, and sweet candy as I was snacking on Taiwanese tamarind balls. With a little research I discovered that there were many online vendors that sold the product.l However, after countless inquiries, receiving no e-mails back, and cringing at the $20 USD cost of shipping $5 worth of candy, I decided that may be there were other more accessible options.

A friend had noted that a small portion of Kensington Market in Toronto was dedicated to Latin American groceries and that I might have some luck there. I was in search of Pulparindo, a tamarind bar flavoured with chilli and salt whose texture can be likened to a fruit rollup, and acidulated lollipops which came in flavours like mango and watermelon and were covered in a coating of chilli and salt.

Perola was the first and only grocery store that I stepped into, simply because I found all I was looking for there. The owner was extremely helpful, and delighted in my enthusiasm and the beads of sweat that began to form on my forehead as a result of the searing heat of the candy.

I must note that Mexican candy is an acquired taste, and not for the faint of heart. The combination of salty, spicy, and sweet may not be  instantly recognizable, but it’s one that can come to be appreciated after a few tastes. Keep an open mind, and you might find yourself requesting membership into my Mexican Candy Lovers club

Perola’s Supermarket

247 Augusta Avenue

Tel: 416-593-9728

Prior to my trip to Los Angeles, I quickly brought together a list of all the restaurants I wanted to visit. The list came together in a matter of minutes, and didn’t require a repetitive Google search of “Los Angeles+ Best+ Restaurants” to find my short list. In fact, all the restaurants I pooled together were a result of references from popular television.

One of those restaurants is the infamous Pink’s. Located at the intersection of Melrose and La Brea, this hot dog stand has been up since 1939 and is best well known for serving its Hollywood celebrity clientele. It has been featured on “Nip/Tuck”, was the inspiration for James Taylor’s song “Chili Dog”, and was featured on “Jackass” where  the love of my life, Brad Pitt, was abducted while waiting in line.

Pulling up to the restaurant was magical. A huge sign depicting the most popular dog in town, and a massive line of hungry patrons greeted me. I honestly felt like I was in a dream, and as a result was snapping pictures like a mad woman trying to capture the essence of the energy surrounding this place.

As I waited in line, I noticed the efficiency of the women behind the counter preparing the hot dogs, burgers, and burritos amongst other things. They were speedy, wore no emotion, and definitely looked like they were on a mission.

After a few moments of contemplation, I had decided what I was going to order. The standard mustard and relish wasn’t going to cut it here. In this case I had to go big, or go back to my hotel room. I selected the Mulholland Drive Dog, which as many things on the menu was inspired by a movie of the same name. It promised of a hot dog with grilled onions, grilled mushrooms, nacho cheese, and bacon all for only $5.75 USD. How could I go wrong?

I swapped the regular dog for a turkey dog and waited to the side while my order was being brought to life. I took the time to stare at the walls around me that housed framed pictures of famous celebrities that had eaten there.

In addition to the typical Hollywood A-lister (and some D-listers) I found my idols Gordon, and Martha. How lovely to know that they vouched for this place. He could have very well  once touched the counter top I was leaning against. Sigh.

The short wait did  not disappoint. I was soon united with my dog and sat down to take a bite. With cheese spilling off the edges, and crispy bacon glistening in the Californian sun, I felt like I was home.

One bite confirmed that this artery clogging masterpiece was mine to savour alone. It wasn’t sophisticated by any means, and tasted just like it sounded. But the idea that I was dining in a culinary institution just brought my taste buds soaring to another level.

If you ever plan a trip to Los Angeles, this is definitely one gem that you don’t want to miss.

Pink’s

709 N. La Brea Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90038

http://www.pinkshollywood.com/pgz/FAQ.htm

Pasta Puttanesca is one of those dishes that can transform boring staples into something magnificent. It’s rustic approach, and combination of lively strong flavours is what it is best known for, although the debates over the origin of its name are far more entertaining: Diane Seed’s “whore’s spaghetti” or Sandro Petti’s “garbage/worthless pasta”? Which do you prefer?

Okay, before I turn you off from making this pasta, let’s move along. My inspiration for this pasta came from the tube of anchovy paste sitting in my fridge. I had purchased it the week before to make Jamie Oliver’s version of the Perfect Caesar Salad. The anchovy paste brought me that much closer to perfect…trust me!

My pantry was out of the essential capers and olives necessary for this recipe, so I had to make the obligatory grocery store run.  I happened to be in the area of the St. Lawrence market around that time and made my first ever visit to this food haven. I know what you’re thinking. How could I have never visited the St. Lawrence market before? Well, it just happens that I haven’t. And while I took in all the sites, sounds, and smells I managed to pick up a large bunch of the most gorgeous basil, and a huge hunk of Parmigiano Reggiano.

And within 10 minutes of arriving at home I got my meal on the table.

Here’s the play by play:

Ingredients:

Fettucine Alfredo

Garlic

Anchovy Paste

Olives

Capers

Strained Tomato Sauce

Basil

Parsley

Parmigiano Reggiano

Salt and Pepper

Instructions:

1) Bring water to the boil, salt, and add desired amount of pasta (single serving). Cook until al dente, while reserving a cup of cooking water.

2) In a pan, heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil.

3) Add 1 tablespoon of anchovy paste (or 3 anchovy fillets) and 3 cloves of minced garlic to the pan.

4) When garlic is golden add 1/4 cup of strained tomato sauce.

5) Pit 8 green olives. Roughly chop and add to pan.

6) Add 2 tablespoons of capers to pan.

7) Season sauce with crushed black pepper and a pinch of salt. Note: There is already a lot of salt in the olives, capers, and anchovy paste, so be careful.

8) Simmer sauce for 10 minutes. Adding pasta water to thin out if necessary.

9) Add drained pasta to pan, and garnish with chopped parsley and lots of torn basil leaves.

10) Top with a generous grating of parmigiano reggiano and serve.

Note: Italians never serve cheese with fish. It’s considered a big no no. In this case I used anchovy paste and should have refrained from using the Parmigiano Reggiano. But the the big hunk of freshly sliced cheese from Parma was calling to me and I just had to do it

I don’t know where this love sprung from. I think it may have started quite some time ago while watching Victoria Gotti scarfing down cupcake upon cupcake on her A&E show (now cancelled) “Growin’ up Gotti”. Or it could have been during day camp when I was 6 years old while frosting a Betty Crocker chocolate cupcake with straight-from-the-can rainbow sprinkle vanilla icing. Those were the days.

My nostalgia for these innocent but devious cakes brought me to The Cupcake Shoppe on Yonge. A quaint little shop, it’s square footage allows for no more than 4 customers in store at a time. Inviting displays of vanilla, chocolate, and marble cupcakes are topped with multi-coloured frostings indicative of their flavour. Quirky names are given to each cupcake, sometimes requiring the menu to be able to decode.

Cupcakes are sold for $2.75 each or 6 for $13. My selection included James Brown (Chocolate frosting), Mango Madness (Mango Frosting), and Creamsicle (Orange/Vanilla frosting) all on chocolate cupcakes.

The cupcakes themselves were not over the top chocolatey. They were balanced, had a light crumb, and were moist overall. Pretty standard in cupcake terms.

The quality of the frosting varied from cupcake to cupcake. I enjoyed the James Brown and Creamsicle frostings because they stayed true to their flavour description. Creamsicle was especially surprising because the punch of vanilla and artificial orange flavouring  served as the perfect throw back to the Dickadee man’s (Ice cream man’s) popsicle of the same name.

What was less appealing was the mango frosting. With each bite, I felt like I was consuming a stick of butter. The mango flavour was not prevalent even when I tasted the frosting on its own. It’s definitely something that the owner’s should re-experiment with.

The cupcakes did satisfy my craving. What was nice about each one, is that it was either topped off with a sprinkle or a piece of candy in the flavour of the frosting. It was a cute surprise I was not expecting.

I requested permission to take photos inside the store, but was unlucky. It’s so cramped in there that I think their objective is to get people in and out as quickly as possible. My advice is to research their menu before going in so that you know what you want. Keep in mind that they have on display approximately 8 flavours out of a roster of 16. So don’t be disappointed once you get there to find out one of the flavours is missing.

As I continue to dream of cupcakes, their light and fluffy frosting, and sprinkles galore, please note I make friends really easily, especially when they present me with cupcakes.

Miraculously, I happened to be in the area one day, and called up one of those friends, and was rejected when I requested a lunch date. Ouch! Well I couldn’t blame him, he was starving, and decided to satisfy his hunger pangs about an hour and a half prior to my arrival.

I have no shame in eating alone, and walked down Queen trying to anticipate the menu selection (didn’t have time to do menu research ahead of time) and how good this place was going to be.

Doing my typical, I snapped pictures of the outside and inside of the restaurant after I placed my order. I turned my back to the counter for just a second to check out their cooler that housed San Pellegrino sodas and was questioning whether I should get one, when I heard an “Excuse me, excuse me!”

I turned around, and was bewildered by the expression on the face of the girl who took my order. “You cannot take pictures in this establishment without asking the manager first.” She pointed to the woman beside her. This had never happened to me before, and after overcoming the shock I began to apologize. The manager didn’t budge a bit to give me the go ahead.

Making my way to the table to await my pasta, I could tell the mood was heavy. This was supposed to be an exciting experience, but here I was counting the minutes till I was out of there.

I awaited my order of pasta fiorentina featuring rigatoni, grilled chicken, and spinach all brought together with a tomato pesto sauce. It sounded delicious.

My eyes scanned the room as I waited. Alongside their menu of pastas, paninis, and salads they also sold Italian food products including dried pasta, San Marzano tomatoes, and olive oil. The display looked fantastic, and was the perfect temptation for any Italian food lover sitting within the vicinity.

A huge bowl heaped with pasta arrived before me. It looked good, but how did it taste. Making sure I got a little bit of everything on my fork a la Giada de Laurentiis, I took my first bite. Yikes!

Meaning “to the tooth”, Al Dente is an expression in Italian used to describe the level of doneness that pasta or cooked vegetables should have when being served. They should be cooked to just the point when they have a little resistance when you bite into them. The pasta before me my friends was extremely overcooked.

However it didn’t stop there. The sauce left much to be desired as it was under seasoned, and lacked the robust hearty taste one would expect in a tomato based sauce. I wanted to feel the love of a tomato sauce that had been stewed in a huge pot for hours like an Italian nona would do, but was betrayed. The marriage between all the ingredients was crumbling.

After a few bites, I headed to the counter and asked the girl who served me if I could have a box to carry out my leftovers in. She pointed to a small styrofoam container. I knew I had more pasta left in my dish than that container could hold, so I requested something larger. I was then lectured on the capacity of the container, and how she was confident that everything would fit. Her attitude took off to another level. Then she came around to look at my dish, took it, and begrudgingly ended up packing it in a larger container. Wow, what happened to customer service nowadays?

I won’t hold anything against you if you are a lover of Fusaro’s. One friend told me that he would boycott the place if I gave him the go ahead, but really, I’m not a bitter person. I just feel that the value (in all aspects) isn’t there for the amount of green you’re forking out. No need to start protesting. At least not yet.

That being said, I think my friend’s lunch rejection was for the better. Firstly, he wouldn’t have had to deal with the horrible service at the restaurant. Secondly he wouldn’t have to had to listen to me drop hints on what I thought about the food.  It’s too bad that he’s going to be reading this article. Oh well.

If you are a lover of the Food Network, as I am, you have watched Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives hoping that the wonderful Guy Fieri would pick you up in his red Camaro and drive you down south to experience the most fantastic barbeque you have ever tasted. If you’re a Bobby Flay fan, then you most likely caught yourself drooling when he challenged one of his viewers to a Pulled Pork Throwdown.

Lucky as we are to be able to experience such tantalizing programming, it is sometimes tough to find those sort of home-grown restaurants and authentic experiences in our backyard.

My quest for barbeque in Toronto began with my investigation of Phil’s Original BBQ. Canadian Chef David Adjey praised the restaurant for its fantastic smoked meats and its mustardy coleslaw which he advocated as a hit on Food Network Canada show Restaurant Makeover. I had to try it out for myself.

Though it’s been a couple of years since that experience, here are the few things I remember. Although the smoke was wonderful, the pulled pork had a stringy texture and wasn’t as tender as I thought it would be. Space was another issue at their location. There was hardly any, and every diner in the restaurant was within elbow knocking distance of one another. However, if there is one thing I will admit, it’s that their barbeque sauces were killer. This place definitely needs a revisit and a more focussed review the next time around.

Most recently in the news, I kept hearing about a place called Lou Dawg’s that offered an authentic southern barbeque experience for under $10. Who doesn’t love a deal like that! It didn’t take much convincing to decide to make a trip to taste their wares.

I researched their menu (as I always do when I go out to eat anywhere), and was impressed by their  shortlist of 5 sandwiches. This was a good sign that the restaurant intended on being focussed in their efforts by creating a few quality dishes that they could feel good about serving.

The restaurant itself had the feel of a woodsy cottage which was very appropriate in terms of theme. The wood plank lined walls brought comfort and warmth to the room, and were a reminder of the aromatic wood chip smoke that permeated the restaurant.  A roll of brown paper towel was held in place at the centre of each table and was flanked by three different bottles of hot sauce foreshadowing what was about to happen in the next few minutes.

I ordered the pulled pork sandwich topped with coleslaw and a jalapeno cheddar corn muffin as a side. The addition of coleslaw was described as making a regular sandwich a “Po-Boy”. Although I didn’t agree with the terminology, I let it go, because who likes a stickler anyway?

When the sandwich arrived, it took me a second to take it all in. Glossy Parisian baguette. Check. Enormous mound of pulled pork. Check. Coleslaw Mecca. Check. I could not wait to dig in.

My first bite into this sandwich was glorious. The pulled pork itself was tender and succulent. You could really taste the flavour of the pork and the time and effort it took to bring it to its melt-in-your-mouth state. The smoke, although present was not overwhelming and complimented the meat well. I could tell this was good barbeque, because they didn’t need to douse their meat in sauce to make it appear tender. Additions of Frank’s Red Hot brought the heat and acerbic edge needed to cut through the richness of the pork. The meat could have been slightly warmer in temperature, but that’s an issue that management could easily correct.

The coleslaw put the sandwich over the top. It was speckled with plump cranberries, and sunflower seeds and served as the perfect crunchy counterpart to the meat. I could tell that the owners were paying attention to the details.

If you enjoy cornbread, then you will dig this variation. The cheddar cheese brought a savoury element to the bread, however the sharp edge of the jalapeno was somehow lost in the sweetness. This is definitely something to be enjoyed warm and gooey, straight out of the oven. I had mine at room temperature.

All in all, my experience was fantastic. Our hostess Michelle was the epitome of courtesy. She made my stay all the more pleasant. So much so, that she took me out back to check out their smoking equipment and told me that I was the first one to ever take a glimpse. Now don’t I feel special? Here’s the inside scoop. There were rows and rows of ribs that were being smoked. My hand felt like it was within reaching distance, but I refrained. Self-control in these sort of situations is hard to come by.

They’re only one of a couple within the city that serve authentic barbeque that your wallet can feel good about. So take my recommendation and make your way down. And while you’re there, tell Michelle I say “What up Dawg?”

Lou Dawg’s

589 King Street West

Toronto, Ontario  M5V 1M5

http://www.loudawgs.com/flash.html