I’m off to the Royal Winter Fair for the next two days. Can’t guarantee I’ll see Prince Charles and Duchess Camilla but am bound to see sheep, chickens and a whole herd of cookbook authors.

Do cookbook authors come in herds? Or prides?

Regardless, I’m hobnobbing with some foodies and will report back. In the meantime, here’s a look at last year’s menagerie — of a farm animals, not cookbook authors.

See you next week.

The comments are rolling in in response to the cookbook give away. Your fabulous ideas make me want to rent a delightful, impractically located venue and throw a great big bash. (If you missed the post, Rose Murray’s wonderful A Taste of Canada is up for grabs. To enter the draw, all you have to do is leave a comment telling me how I should celebrate the new blog.)

Riding the wave of your enthusiasm, I’m thumbing my nose at the cold weather and posting a very special frozen dish — Concord Grape Sorbet. Ever since I read how chef Johnny Iuzzini used his T-shirt and a broom handle to make Concord grape sorbet, I’ve been dying to try this dessert. But two weeks ago I was told the grapes were done until next fall. Then, by some small, unexplained miracle I dare not question, Peach Lady had four baskets of these purple beauties at her stall on Saturday. I bought two.

One sits in the freezer, waiting for a special occasion. How will I use this precious stash? I might use it to make a Concord Grape Pie, or more Concord Grape and Nectarine Butter. I might just eat them as frozen little balls of delight.

The other I transformed into this sorbet. Despite the Iuzzini anecdote, The Flavor Bible provided no recipe and suggested the best flavour combination for Concord grapes involved honey. So I sweetened the sorbet with a hint of honey and used Drambuie, a honey and scotch flavoured liqueur, to keep the sorbet soft.

The results? Intense and spectacular.

Even the cat liked it.

While I was setting up the shot, a little orange face entered the frame and started licking one of the scoops. Not sure “Cat-Approved” is going to sell this dish, but if you like the full-on flavour of Concord grapes, this sorbet remains true to the fruit. It’s not a sweet dessert, but more of an tart, intriguing after-dinner palate cleanser. It would go beautifully with a cheese platter if it didn’t melt so quickly.

So, do you like tart sorbets? Or are you a die-hard Orange Sherbet fan?

Concord Grape Sorbet
Makes about  4 cups (1 litres)

Ingredients

• 2 pounds Concord grapes
• 2 tbsp honey
• 1 tbsp Drambuie

Instructions

1. Pop grapes out of their skins and into a medium-sized sauce pan.
2. Pulse the skins in a food processor or chop finely. Do this so they will be easier to strain.
3. Add skins to the pulp and bring to a boil. Cook until the grapes release their seeds
4. Remove the seeds using a food mill or by pressing the cooked grapes through a coarse sieve.
5. Stir in the honey and Drambuie.
6. Chill until cold.
7. Freeze in ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions.

Often, when I’m busy doing one thing, a totally unrelated thought will slam into my brain. This happens to me so often in the shower, I actually bought a diving slate to jot down my ideas should inspiration strike while I’m under the hot spray.

Well, this time the revelation arrived while I had my head in the oven. I was bent over, hands swathed in oven mitts, poking tongs at roasting beef bones when it hit to me — I never really celebrated the launch of my new blog. Oh sure, I issued a pathetic plea to bookmark the new location and pushed a few Facebook friends this way. But no cat-shaped cake. No burnt-toast cookies. Not even a Yippee-I-Have-A-New-Blog Recipe.  What was I thinking?

That’s akin moving to a new home and sending your friends a change-of-address card in lieu of throwing a great big housewarming bash. What sort of crappy hostess am I?

This will not do.

We’ll have cake. Soon. In the meantime, let’s get into the party atmosphere with a cookbook give away. The lovely and extremely generous people at Whitecap have provided the prize. Ironically, one of the reasons I moved my blog was to make contests easier. You’d think I’d have cottoned on to this oversight sooner.

Anyway to this week some lucky reader will win a copy of:

A Taste of Canada: A Culinary Journey by Rose Murray.

This is one of my all-time favourite cookbooks. The recipes are rock solid and Rose comes across as a lovely person you just want to sit down and chat with her over a cup of tea and some of her Apple Butter Cinnamon Rolls. I met Rose briefly at last year’s Canadian Culinary Book Awards, and she’s as warm and interesting as her book suggests.

Rose’s Indian take on Chicken Pot Pie has forever changed my mind about this stodgy classic. She’s also given me a whole new respect for curry powder with her amazing Cheddar Apple Soup.

So, how do you win this beautiful and endearing cookbook? Simple. Leave a comment telling me how you think I should celebrate the new blog. Be silly. Be sensible. Be sincere. Just leave a comment.

Unlike with other contests, I don’t promise to act on a single suggestion. The only thing I promise is to send one lucky winner a copy of this book.

And to throw more conventions out the window, I’m opening this contest up to family members. Yup. People with the last name of Christie are no longer culled from the lottery. After all, they put up with me running over every few days asking for feed back on the new header, passing judgement on every handwritten font in existence and talking me off the roof when terms like 301 redirects and MySQL had broken my otherwise robust spirit.

So, leave your ideas and on Sunday, November 8, 2009, I’ll use a Random Number generator to select the lucky winner. The entire process will be overseen by a ginger tabby. Sorry Dine-o-Matic, your services for this sort of thing are no longer needed.

I’ll announce the winner next Monday. Good luck!

Back in June, I asked you to give me your dinner dilemmas as part of the Dana’s Top Ten Table giveaway. And the cries of frustrations that echoed through the comments section bordered on deafening.  No time, out of ideas, fussy eaters and inconsistent results were common themes.

While Dana provided many outstanding answers, we could only address a fraction of your questions during the 40-minute podcast. And to be honest, some of them stumped me. Like Diva on a Diet’s egg issue:

What’s the secret for really good, creamy scrambled eggs? I can’t scramble an egg to save my life.

Well, Diva, neither can I.

Sure, this dish should be simple, but I rarely eat eggs on their own. And when I do, the yellow lumps on my plate are dry and rubbery. So I turned to the experts at Rouxbe Online Cooking School. When I asked if I could post their scrambled egg video, not only did CEO Joe Girard allow me to post the lesson below (which is normally only available via a paid membership), he asked me to join the Rouxbe affiliate program. What’s that mean?

It means Christie’s Corner readers can get a one-week taste of Rouxbe for free. And there’s no pressure to join.

[Full disclosure stuff bordering on being defensive: Yes, an affiliate relationship means I will get a portion of the proceeds if you sign up for a paid membership. That said, I believe in Rouxbe's approach to cooking and on several occasions have pointed readers their way — long before I joined the affiliate program. I have no way of knowing who does and doesn't join so really, there's no pressure. Honest. ]

This official relationship also means I no longer break into a sweat when poll results show you want me to include cooking videos. I have a hard enough time keeping up with the still shots. Making my own videos would kill me. And then who would you turn to for ice cream recipes? Oh wait. David Lebovitz. Forget I said anything.

So, Diva and all scrambled egg lovers out there, here is the proper way to make creamy scrambled eggs. And it’s no surprise to learn I’ve been doing wrong all these years. I set the heat too high!

Rouxbe Online Cooking School & Video Recipes

How do you like your scrambled eggs? Firm with large curds? Or creamy like this? Or are you a sunny-side-up fan?

Every once in a while I do something unpredictable. Like cook Brussels sprouts.

I don’t like Brussels sprouts, but Pierre A. Lamielle’s book Kitchen Scraps made me do it. Here,  Monty Python dukes it out with Edward Gorey as Martha Stewart barks encouragement from the wings. Sure, this cookbook looks like it sprung from the demented imagination of Tim Burton, but the recipes have their feet planted firmly on the ground. After all, Lamielle is a trained chef.

Anyway, back to the Brussels sprouts. I just had to set aside my mini-cabbage biases when I read this.

the tale of mr. b. russell sprout

Once upon a time there was a gentleman named Mr. B. Russell Sprout who lived in a red-brick townhouse on a cobblestone lane near the bank where he worked. Even the other bankers thought Mr. Sprout was an old fuddy-duddy because he always wore the same limp green tweed suit and bowler hat every day.

Nobody ever invited him round for dinner, fearing he would be a dreadful bore.

One day after work, Mr. Sprout joined his colleagues for a pint at the pub.

A few pints later, he had taken off his stuffy old suit (along with everything else) and was running around town making a spectacular spectacle of himself. He definitely knew how to party. After that night, Mr. Sprout was invited round for dinner all over town, and everyone was happy to see him . . . especially after they got a little booze in him.

Honestly, how can you resist? I just had to give old B. Russel Sprout a tipple to see what he’d do. And I must say, I’m glad I did. I actually ate my share and my sister helped me with the rest. They don’t even look half bad. See…

Lamielle’s intriguing art and quirky approach to recipes had me in stitches — and eager to try almost anything. Even the most hated green vegetable known to humanity. His babushka grannies are making me rethink my stance on beets, but let’s not get carried away too quickly. One vegetable at a time, please.

Still not convinced? How can you not love a book that throws the table of contents out the window and organizes recipes by the utensil best suited to eat them? No more chapters devoted to Boring Breakfast or Plebeian Soup. Instead, consider Food You Eat with a Spoon, Fork, Forkenknife or Hand.

While the recipe titles are packed with puns, Lamielle weaves a tale that makes the groan worthwhile. And the writing? Crisp as gently steamed snow peas. Not only do I want to make Lamielle’s recipes, I want to steal his verbs.

In fact, I nearly made the French Onion Soup just so I could quote this passage.

The French are foul-mouthed. They find enormous pleasure in cussing, eating stinky cheese, and smoking like chimneys. But for some reason they have a globally recognized technique for kissing that involves a lot of tasting of the other person’s mouth. The ultimate contradiction is that the national soup of France is composed nearly entirely of onions.

As the author says, “It is not a cookbook for busy families, it will not make you a kitchen deity, and it will certainly not make you lose ten pounds. Kitchen Scraps will delight, offend, and make you hungry.”

Enough quoting. If you like irreverent and quirky, buy the book. If you don’t, then at least have some Brussels sprouts. They won’t kill you. Quickly…

Brussels Meet Brandy

Excerpt published with permission. From Pierre A. Lamielle’s Kitchen Scraps: A Humorous Illustrated Cookbook (Whitecap, 2009)

• 10 Brussels sprouts, halved
• pinch of salt
• 2 Tbsp butter, divided
• 1 oz shot (2 Tbsp) brandy
• juice and zest of 1 orange
• 1 shallot, minced
• sprig of fresh thyme (leaves only)
• 1/4 cup dried cranberries

1. Place the Brussels sprout halves flat side down in a frying pan. Cover halfway with cold water, and add a pinch of salt and 1 Tbsp of butter. Place the pan on high heat, and cook at a rip-roaring boil until almost all the water has evaporated.
2. To flambé the sprouts without lighting yourself on fire, carefully remove the pan from the heat, add the shot of brandy, and, using a long match or a barbecue lighter, light the booze on fire and place the pan back on the heat. When the fire subsides, add the orange juice and zest, shallot, thyme leaves, dried cranberries, and the last 1 Tbsp of butter all at the same time. Toss and cook for a couple more minutes until the sauce gets syrupy and glossy.
3. Make everyone try at least one. It will make them change their minds about Brussels sprouts.

Serves 2.

A while ago, Cari from Dinnervibe suggested I make a Halloween themed ice cream. As you know, it doesn’t take much to persuade me to whip out my Cuisinart, so even though the weather is turning cold, I accepted her ice cream challenge.

Perhaps I’m in a rut, but instead of creating a black licorice ice cream with raspberry blood swirl and marshmallow sauce cobwebs, I decided on a flavour that could carry itself long into the upcoming holidays — Pumpkin Pie.

Now, if you don’t like the dessert that inspired this chilled treat, not even the Great Pumpkin himself is going to persuade you to embrace this dish. After all, it tastes exactly like frozen — somewhat airy — pumpkin pie. And so it should. After all, it’s basically my pumpkin pie recipe, only with more dairy and no eggs. For those with a pumpkin aversion, might I suggest some old-fashioned, unspooky Maple Walnut Ice Cream, instead?

Since it’s a crustless version on the classic dessert, WITH the whipped cream topping mixed in, all this dish needed was a drizzle of maple syrup. Ah, autumn perfection. All treat. No tricks.

So, does the thought of pie in ice cream form appeal to you? Or would you miss the crust?

Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream

Makes about 1 litre

Ingredients

• 2 cups whipping cream (35%)
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/2 tsp ground cloves
• 1/2 tsp ground allspice
• 1/8 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp vanilla
• 1 cup pumpkin puree

Instructions

1. Gently heat the cream, milk, sugar, spices and salt over medium heat until the sugar has dissolved and bubbles form around the edge of the pan.
2. Stir warm cream into the pumpkin along with the vanilla.
3. Chill the mixture in the refrigerator until cold.
4. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions.

I got out the good china and fancy napkins for this one.

Not that matar paneer is an elaborate dish or extremely challenging. Instead, this recipe is a long, long overdue thank-you to fellow writer and Indian cuisine lover, Lora Shinn.

But why am I polishing the silverware and wiping spots off the crystal? First, Lora’s also a professional photographer and has  given me lots of photography tips and pointers over the past year or two. And second, when my camera was dying and she happened to be upgrading hers, she sold me her digital SLR. At a real deal.

So, this makes Lora partially responsible for my photos going from this embarrassing splatter…

to this.

I still have a long way to go, especially with food styling, but at least I no longer subject you to over-exposed, low-contrast, semi-focused, flashed-wasted photos. And for that we should all be grateful!

So, now you can see why I thought Aunt Ruby’s fine china was called for.

As a thank you, I promised to create and post about Lora’s favourite dish. Of course, that was before I knew she’d want something with peas in it. But a promise is a promise.

After perusing dozens of recipes and thumbing through all my cookbooks, I decided to use the spicing from Bal Arenson’s No-Butter Chicken after a reader mentioned she tried the recipe with tofu instead of chicken. And paneer is the tofu of Indian cuisine. (I think. Don’t quote me. I just made that up because I’m tired and full of cough medicine.)

And you know what? The results were so good I didn’t even mind the peas. So I have something else to thank Lora for. At last I have found a pea recipe that both Andrew and I will eat without grumbling.

Anyway, let’s all give Lora a big thanks. On the count of three say, “THANK YOU, LORA!”

1, 2, 3…

Matar Paneer

Serves 4

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup canola oil
• 2 large onions, minced
• 2 Tbsp garlic, grated
• 2 Tbsp gingerroot, grated
• 2 Tbsp tomato paste
• 1 Tbsp cumin seeds
• 1 Tbsp Garam Masala (click for recipe)
• 1 Tbsp brown sugar
• 1 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1 tsp ground turmeric
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 cup paneer, cubed
• 2 cups peas, fresh or frozen
• 1/2 cup plain yogurt
• 1/2 cup cream

Instructions

1. Heat a non-stick skillet over high. Add oil then onions, and sauté until dark golden brown.
2. Add the garlic and ginger, reduce the heat to medium, and cook for 2 minutes.
3. Add the tomato paste and cumin seeds and cook for 30 seconds.
4. Reduce the heat to low, add the garam masala, brown sugar, red pepper flakes, turmeric, and salt, and cook for 5 minutes.
5. Add the paneer and cook another 5 minutes.
6. Add the peas, yogurt and cream. Cook 2 to 4 minutes or until the peas are just cooked.
7. Sprinkled with fresh cilantro. Serve immediately.

Pastry is fussy, cake requires precise measurement, fish over-cooks in a flash, but soup? Soup is incredibly forgiving.

And it’s the perfect way to  handle the abundance of fall. Got too many carrots? Make soup. More cauliflower than you know what do do with? Soup. Your neighbour drops off a squash? Soup.

You get the idea.

I made this soup from a butternut squash trekked all the way in from my neighbour’s garden and a new-to-me apple called Ginger Gold. I had gone to the Farmers’ Market hoping for Concord grapes, but when there were none, these apples practically forced their way into my bag. Peach Lady (who really needs a new name at this point since she’s supplying me with all my stone fruit, grapes and apples) mentioned that Martha Stewart had been raving about Ginger Gold apples, so I had to give them a try.

Pretty as they are, they’re too soft to be my idea of a great eating apple, but in the world of soup lovers, “That’s a good thing.”

With homemade stock hanging around the freezer looking for something to do, I decided to let the ingredients lead me.

The resulting soup is quite sweet, although there is no sugar or juice added. On its own I find it a bit too candy-like, but with a bit of sharp cheese or some tangy creme fraiche? It tones down nicely.

All it needs is a toasted sandwich on the side.

So, what’s your stance on sweet soups? Love ‘em? Hate ‘em? Don’t care as long as the cheese is nippy?

Ginger Gold Apple and Squash Soup

Serves 6 to 8 (or maybe 4?)

• 2 tbsp vegetable oil
• 2 onions, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tbsp fresh gingerroot, grated
• 2 dried red chilies (optional)
• 2 tsp ground cumin
• 1 tsp ground coriander
• 1 medium butternut squash, peeled and chopped
• 6 cups chicken stock (or vegetable broth)
• 4 Ginger Gold apples, peeled, seeded and chopped
• salt and pepper to taste
• old cheddar, cream, creme fraiche (plain yogurt for the health conscious)

Instructions

1. Heat a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the oil and saute the onions for a few minutes.
2. Add the garlic, ginger, ground cumin and ground coriander, cooking for a couple more minutes.
3. Add the squash, tossing to coat in the spices.
4. Add the stock. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook, covered for 10 minutes.
5. Add the apples and cook another 10 to 20 minutes, or until the squash is cooked.
6. Puree with an immersion blender or in a blender.
7. Season to taste.
8. Serve with grated old cheddar, a splash of cream or a dollop of creme fraiche. Those who live on the edge may do all three.

What are those things? Slivered almonds? Potato chips sprinkled a spinach dip? No. Crispy garlic slices atop a quick-cook spinach curry. See.

And it’s so good I ate it two days in a row.

Spinach is one of those foods that doesn’t photograph well when cooked. It can look slimy or gray. Or slimy and gray.

While I really enjoy a long-simmered sag paneer, also spelled saag panir, (a curry made with spinach and the Indian cheese, paneer) it’s usually best eaten in dim lighting along with a vitamin pill to make up for all the goodness you’ve cooked away. But Lucy Waverman reinvents the dish in A Year in Lucy’s Kitchen: Seasonal Recipes and Memorable Meals (Random House Canada, 2009).

Her version cooks up in less than 20 minutes (included slicing the garlic and chopping the ginger), maintains its brilliant colours and actually tastes like spinach (in a good way).

My only gripe? There’s no way this recipe serves 6 people. No way.

Before I get to the recipe, what’s your stand on spinach? Raw only, not cooked? Any day, any way? Or  do I get to eat your share?

Sag Paneer
Excerpted with permission from Lucy Waverman’s A Year in Lucy’s Kitchen (Random House Canada, 2009)

Serves 6

Ingredients

• 1 tbsp vegetable oil
• 2 tbsp thinly sliced garlic
• 1 tsp finely chopped gingerroot
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1 tsp ground coriander
• 1 tsp black mustard seeds
• 5 cups baby spinach (My note: pack the spinach when you measure because it cooks down significantly)
• 1 cup diced paneer
• 1/4 cup plain yogurt
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh mint
• salt and freshly ground pepper

Instructions

1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and ginger and saute for 4 minutes or until pale gold. Remove garlic and ginger from skillet and reserve.
2. Return skillet to heat and add cumin, coriander and mustard seeds. Saute for 1 minute, or until you can just smell the spices. Immediately add spinach and cook together until spinach wilts.
3. Add paneer and cook for 1 minute, or until paneer is warmed through. Remove from heat.
4. Stir in yogurt and mint and season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with fried garlic and ginger.

Well, this is embarrassing. I nearly singed my bangs off.

How? Licking a big drip of Concord grape puree off the stove knob just inches from the boiling pot. How else?

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would anyone do that? Well, first of all, I had just scoured the stove top, so it was clean. And second, my hands were full, otherwise I’d have used my finger. And third… that’s not the weirdest thing anyone’s done for a mouthful of Concord grapey-goodness.

As proof, I offer up a passage from The Flavor Bible (Little Brown and Company, 2008). In a pull quote, Johnny Iuzzini of Jean Georges Restaurant in New York says, “I was upstate in my cabin when the first Concord grapes came into season. I wanted sorbet so badly that I cut one of my T-shirts in half to use as a strainer, and then used my broom handle with the shirt to squeeze every last bit of juice from the grapes.”

At least I didn’t shred my clothes for this.

Anyway, my hair survived and I managed to make a lovely, very intense fruit butter with little more than very ripe fruit and a prayer. I had planned to make a Concord Grape Pie, but I got to market too late. Grape Lady (who is also my Peach Pusher) said they sold out early. While she promised to save me a basket next week, the few grapes I had left over from Thanksgiving were threatening to turn into wine if I didn’t intervene.

Since fruit butters are designed to use up over-ripe fruit, I turned on the stove and … the rest you know.

After tasting this I have decided that I like fruit butter better than jam, despite the fact I have to stand at the stove stirring for an hour. The results are less sweet than jam, more intense and completely worth the effort.

Not bad for a woman who hadn’t made preserves in two decades.

Do you make fruit butters? If so, what do you eat them on?

Concord Grape and Nectarine Butter
Makes four 250 mL jars

Ingredients

• 8  cups ripe nectarines, diced coarsely (no need to remove skins)
• 4 cups concord grapes
• 1/4 cup honey (or to taste)

Instructions

1. Put nectarines and grapes in a large pan. Cover and simmer 20 to 30 minutes or until the fruit gets soft.
2. Strain seeds through a food mill (or mash and press through a fine strainers).
3. Sterilize  jars, lids and collars.
4. Return remaining pulp to the pan. Boil gently, uncovered, stirring constantly, until reduced by half. This takes about 45 minutes.
5. When fruit butter is done, add the honey and cook 15 more minutes.
6. Pour fruit butter into sterilized jars, being sure to leave headspace. Remove any air bubbles with a wooden skewer.
7. Wipe the rims before sealing according to manufacturer’s directions.
8. Process sealed jars in a boiling water bath for 10 to 15 minutes.