Hello again, goodbye and congratulations

Since last I wrote, I've moved back to Toronto. It's for very ordinary reasons involving a promotion for my husband and a desire to be closer to family as we get closer to starting our own. It was also a very fast turnaround. We found out we were moving and a month later we were here. We had to sell our much beloved first home on the north side of False Creek (with a view of the concrete plant on Granville Island), not to mention saying goodbye to all the friends we'd made over the past nearly five years.

It doesn't help that we moved to Toronto just before winter. Stupid, stupid move.

But we bought a fantastic place smack in the heart of the core of downtown Toronto. I have work and I can walk to it. I'm with family and friends I've missed for almost five years.

So hello again to Toronto and goodbye to Vancouver.

I say goodbye not only to the city I have now come to -- dare I say it -- love for all its quirks, but also to a home within a home.

If you've read this blog before you've probably come across it because of my meanderings as a kitchen intern at Lumiere restaurant. I spent every Friday for half a year learning everything from deveining foie gras to where the ice machine is. It changed me, however cliche that sounds. I approach ingredients and cooking with more confidence than I ever did before, even after a lifetime of cooking with my mother. I got to meet people who were incredibly talented, fun and young. I felt like a part of the team and it became a kind of home for me.

I was incredibly saddened to learn that Lumiere and its sister restaurant, db Bistro, will be closing March 12th. I haven't spoken with anyone I used to work with, but from what I gather it has to do with a combination of factors including the HST, stricter drunk driving laws and location (the fact that it isn't downtown has always been a factor in foot traffic).

It's certainly not a total surprise for watchers. Rumours of closures have been around for ages. But that's all they were at the time. I didn't want to believe them. I was just falling in love and didn't want to hear a terminal diagnosis.

Yet here we are. And in my opinion Vancouver will be worse for it. It's a culinary institution and soon it will no longer be.

My first thought is for all the servers and cooks. I have no doubt they will find employment, and soon. Talented people in the culinary world are always in demand. I also have no doubt they will all go on to do something great. I've always known that. Nevertheless it's hard to think they may not be moving forward as a team, the way I've always known them.

I'm sad that I will not be able to dine there when I visit Vancouver. I didn't just love it because I knew the people there. They made EVERYONE feel at home. From the first time I went there in their new incarnation as a Daniel Boulud production I felt comfortable, well fed and happy. I have since discovered it's rare to be able to find this combination.

And yet I say congratulations because I also found out that my former chef at Lumiere is now a competitor for Top Chef Canada. They just announced it today. Dale Mackay will be the only chef representing Vancouver, which is a distinction for him and a shame for the show. In my opinion, Vancouver is the best food city in Canada.

I'll be watching the show proudly, knowing that Dale and his soon-to-be former co-workers are some of the best at what they do. Knock 'em dead.

Confessions of a Stagiere -- Week Twenty

I have missed a couple of entries here, and I figured it's better to be accurate about what week I'm talking about rather than having them all sequential.

This week was my last week at Lumiere -- at least, my last week going consistently. I've had an incredible six month run. When I first started I was working just to become familiar with my surroundings. In the last few weeks, I finally nailed down the art of forming a quenelle of cream with one spoon.

I've been referring to my final day at Lumiere as my "final exam". It's very appropriate. The minute I walked into the kitchen the meat cook says, "you know today's the Steve Nash dinner right"?

The Steve Nash dinner he is referring to is the fundraiser for Steve Nash's foundation. A $1500 a plate dinner. I had gotten multiple emails about this through work via press releases, but for some reason it hadn't sunk in that if I showed up that day, I would in fact be working for the dinner.

It also hadn't sunk in that executive chef and restaurateur extraordinaire Daniel Boulud was also going to be there.

"I assumed that's why you were here".

Noooooo, no no no. I had been so glad I wasn't there on another weekend Daniel had come to town because I specifically wanted to avoid having anything I was doing scrutinized by this legendary chef.

So the dinner involved prepping for a yet unspecified number of guests ("thirty to sixty people" is what I heard). The dinner was happening at db Bistro -- they closed down the restaurant for the event. The only dishes coming out of the Lumiere side was the crab dish from the garde manger section. Keeping in mind that when I say "only" I mean we ended up prepping enough crab for about 100 dishes...on top of the regular prep for dinner service.

That's ten pounds of crab that needs to be picked over, then mixed with half a litre of chopped herbs among other things. I don't even know how many mangoes they went through, slicing them with a mandoline and cutting strips to wrap the crab with. Then preparing half a litre of mango bruinoise and piquillo peppers. Then forming and wrapping all the crab. Then wrapping over eighty crab rolls with rice paper wrappers.

It was go time.

In the midst of all this, as I'm squeezing a dozen grapefruits into juice, I hear a deep rich voice calling out behind me. I know it's Daniel. The Vancouver Sun was there to film Daniel and Dale making the scallop dish with corn succotash. I didn't dare turn around to watch, but listening to Daniel direct the action was amazing. He's a producer's dream. He knows what angles are the best, what to shoot, when to shoot it, what to say, how long to talk...considering he does this kind of thing all the time I'm not surprised. But I am in awe.

What's Daniel like in the kitchen? A pro. He doesn't have time to waste, he knows what he needs to get done and gets it done. I got to see that first hand during "the" dinner service. We had set out 87 plates on tables in the narrow hallway that joins the two kitchens. I had been tasked with plating the bruinoise of mango and piquillo peppers onto all the plates. The staff at db were tasked with building the crab stacks, slicing the rolls and plating all the rest.

We were right in the middle of Lumiere's dinner service and I we've run out of the coriander sticks we're using in the crab stacks. The rest of them are all in the db kitchen. I go out into the hallway and everyone is right in the middle of trying to get these 87 plates of crab out of the hallway and to the tables. Because it's so narrow nobody can fit around each other. The servers are on one end, the chefs are at another, the chefs are yelling for people to take certain plates away. Not all the plates have the same design on them so a lot of juggling is involved. Add to this the fact that the crab stacks are plated on top of mango puree which is making the stacks slide around and you can imagine the pressure.

Of course, I know better than to actually try to get anything from the other kitchen during all this. I head back and wait for the rush to subside.

The dinner was supposed to run from 7 to 8 pm. That was going to work out perfectly because the Lumiere dinner reservations had a gap between 7 to 8. There would be free hands available. At least, that was the theory. The dinner got pushed back to 8:15...when a bunch of reservations would have just arrived. It's amazing what you can do when you have no other choice.

And that's what really divides people who work in kitchens and others who don't. There's a breed of people that thrive on adrenaline and stress. The thrill of getting it all done and knowing you can do it.

I got called over to the db kitchen for the main course plating. Picture two lines of cooks on either side of a massive stainless steel prep table. db's chef, Stephane, yells out instructions. I end up near the end of the line, plating the beef and adding a romaine garnish to the plate just before Stephane sauced them. We probably plated everything in five minutes or less. I loved being part of that.

In the middle of everything Dale comes over and asks me if I want to take a picture with Daniel Boulud. Note: you do NOT say no to a picture with Daniel. I'm pretty sure that's a law somewhere. I was thrust into a corridor with him. He has no idea who am I or why I'm there but takes the picture anyway, which you can see to the left. Yes, I'm planning to print that out and hang it somewhere in my house. I don't even have pictures of my family hanging in my house yet, but you can be damn sure there'll be one of Daniel.

So the dinner went off successfully, as did the dinner service we did. Lots of momentary panic but it all got done as it always does.

I've had a bizarrely circular relationship with Lumiere over the past year. When I ate there the first time it reopened last November I met Daniel, as a patron. I gushed about it profusely in this blog posting. Now I've met him as a pseudo-employee. I won a chance to eat and work in the restaurant and ended up staying for six months. I don't know how it all worked out so seamlessly, but I know this has all been a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

People ask me what I've learned. Everyone thinks I'm hosting these incredible dinner parties now but the truth is that the most thrilling experience I've had is getting to be around people who genuinely love food. It's an egalitarian love. You can love ham and cheese sandwiches just as much as duck confit. I could talk about wanting baked Alaska and have a roomful of people talk about their awesome baked Alaska experiences with no hint of snootiness, just a pure love for food. I got to be a part of the monumental task of putting a fine dining meal together. I found out what lengths people will go to work with food just because they love it. Oh yeah, and I finally nailed one-spoon quenelle making!

My time at Lumiere has been absolutely incredible. I am so lucky that chef Dale Mackay and everyone in the kitchen not only allowed me to be there but took their time to work with a total novice. I used their tools, I made mistakes but I hauled ass as best I could. Thanks so much to those who've stayed and those who've moved on: Dale Mackay, Nathan Guggenheimer, Doug King, Alex Amos, Brad Hendrickson, Jesse Zuber, Rhys Jones, Suyin Wong, Celeste Mah, Tony Chang, Trevor Bird and all the people at db Bistro as well for making me part of the team. I'm going to miss working with you but I know I'll be seeing you all around.

Confessions of a Stagiere -- Week Two

From April 10th 2009

After first day jitters, second days are always easier. I wasn't worried about explaining myself to anyone. I could focus on observing and learning and doing my tasks. After an unsure beginning, my mind was starting to pick up on things.

I noticed that I was starting to see things differently. My fingers for instance. During the week, my fingers are just appendages attached to my palms that are at the ends of my arms. I use them for typing. That's pretty much their main function.

In the kitchen, my fingers are the best tools I have. I use every one to manipulate, wipe, adjust, tear, pinch. Even the oft overlooked ring fingers have functions beyond the decorative. I've started to value them infinitely more. Suddenly they all matter because without them, I'm pretty useless.

The way I look at what I'm doing has changed too. I spent the better part of an hour peeling and dicing butternut squash for quiche that's part of the amuse bouche. After a while I started looking at the pieces in the bowl in front of me. Each piece started out a bright orange at the top and got progressively more yellow at the bottom. It was kind of like candy corn. They were just lovely, all piled up in a mound. It was delightful to look at.

I'm starting to see each different art form within the overall culinary picture. It has to be said that there are no unattractive or unappetizing looking dishes. But for some reason one particular dish took my breath away.

It was a beet salad. Doesn't sound like anything special when you put it that way.

Here's what it looks like though: dark purple, candy striped and yellow beets, quartered and artfully arranged on a long white plate that's been painted with concentrated beet juice, careful attention paid to the angles. Then quenelles of white horseradish cream placed on top with sprigs of microgreens. I couldn't stop staring at it. I remember not wanting to breath while I was watching this. This, I thought, really IS an art form.

My hands are starting to take on new characteristics. Cooks are known for their asbestos fingers. They can withstand temperatures most of us would cringe at. Scars and calluses illustrate a lifetime of labour. Mine are a blank slate in comparison. But they're starting to take a different shape. I can feel the tips of my fingers hardening from heat and more frequent use. I think I'm also on my way to developing a knife callus at the base of my index finger. However, calluses generally start as blisters and my soon-to-be callus is currently a painfully burst one. I discovered it in the middle of my butternut squash chopping. Luckily I wasn't asked to cut anything else for the rest of the day. I'm looking forward to when that part hardens up. I just hope it heals in a hurry because I have a feeling I'll need to use it come next Friday.

With any job comes getting to know your coworkers. I'm the new girl -- girl being the operative word -- and discovered that apparently everyone was under strict orders not to say anything remotely crude around me, possibly for fear I'd run off screaming or sue for harrassment. I learned of this the previous week when I was asked what I thought of the kitchen culture in respect to how, well, crude it can be. I said I hadn't noticed much of anything.

"Well, to be honest, it's really toned down."
"Is it because I'm here?"
"Yeah."

The funny thing is that anyone who knows me knows I'm usually the first one to say something profane or outrageous or generally something that has guaranteed me a spot in hell. They don't yet know this about me but they probably will soon. They seem to be getting over it. I won't reveal the general topics of conversation but if you imagine a room full of twenty-something men who are crammed in a small room for the better part of 16 hours a day, you can imagine what those would be.

Everyone has and continues to be very kind and helpful, remembering to call me over to show me things they're doing. The meat cook showed me how to make a hollandaise sauce. More or less it's like a cooked mayonnaise. It was a highlight of my day, because it was a valuable lesson and also because of another hollandaise story I remember.

Months ago I was talking to another chef about working with our head chef, Dale. They were coworkers years ago, before either of them had become the superstars they are now. He said that he had taught Dale how to make hollandaise all those years ago, but that he didn't remember this until Dale had reminded him of it.

Now it seems that I, too, will have a hollandaise memory of my own.

Confessions of a Stagiere -- Week One

From my first week at Lumiere...April 3/09.

There's nothing like the first day at a new job. You can practically taste the anxiety bubbling up like bile. It crawls up into your throat and chokes you just as you ask the question, "What would you like me to do?"

Once I get in the kitchen there is some surprise at my return but there's always something to do. I learn to start getting into a rhythm of every task: whether it's cutting up the tips of romaine lettuce into "fronds" or picking the tips of chervil.

I've always cooked and helped to prepare food since I was a kid. My mother was always big into making her own food. Whenever we would go out she would inevitably say, "I could make that myself". Money was always tight. But good food was always paramount.

I remember many days sitting in front of the television with a big bowl of snow peas to prepare. It was theraputic, snapping off the ends and taking off the fibrous edges. I always made sure to check them all over once I was finished because there's nothing more unpleasant than eating a snow pea that hasn't been cleaned properly.
There's also a lot of camaraderie while you're preparing food. You're working towards a common goal whose end result (if you did it properly) would only be a good one.

All these "mom" food moments came back as I was helping to make ravioli. Their ravioli consists of a butternut squash filling and shaping the pasta squares into pyramids with square bases...that are also slightly rounded out. I was told to take my time with them.

My mother and I never made ravioli. We made gyoza, a water and flour dough rolled out into circles and filled with a meat mixture. I was never given the responsibility of handling the dough because I was never able to do it to my mother's satisfaction. Whenever I would fill them it was never the right amount of mixture. I was also never able to successfully replicate one of my mother's gyoza. A proper gyoza should be folded in half and crimped by hand so it looks like an elaborately edged purse. Try as I might, I just couldn't get the hang of it and it would always look primitive next to hers. So my sister and I would turn them into barnyard animals and whatever else we wanted, defiantly deformed.

The restaurant had taken a hit since I'd been there last. The number of customers willing to pay top dollar for a world class meal had fallen dramatically due to the recession. It pained me to see the reservation numbers (about half of what the dining room could accomodate). But this also allowed more time for experimentation and invention.

We all got to try the latest invention -- foie gras ice cream. I could see how foie gras would lend itself to ice cream, being pretty much all fat anyway. You could just blend it in. But what would a meat flavoured ice cream taste like? We all found out. The taste was very creamy, and then the foie gras flavour hit you hard and pretty much stayed put. It was cold, sweet foie gras. I didn't really know what to make of it. It was a culinary noodle scratcher. Others seemed thrilled and thought it could've been more savoury. It was definetely one of the more unique food experiences I've ever had.

Another new item being tested was a pheasant and pear terrine. "This terrine is going to be off the hook", one cook commented. I'd never heard a terrine described this way.

I had to ask: what draws people into this very specialized, exhausting, exhilirating road to food?

One was a pre med student in Victoria before he realized he wanted to work in food. He quit school, travelled, then came back and got a job as a dishwasher. I asked him what his parents had thought. "They were horrified." He went off to culinary school and is three years into a promising career. But to this day his family isn't completely convinced. His stories about 16 hour work days has not helped.

Another was studying math and training to be a bioengineer. How does an engineer wannabe go into cooking? "I was always thinking about what I was going to have for dinner." His mother's horrified reaction did nothing to stop his plans. His response is: "I can be an engineer when I'm forty, but I can't cook when I'm forty".

I'm feeling particularly self-conscious because I'm very aware of my position as outsider/interloper. I'm a radio producer who's in the kitchen...performing small tasks...following and observing...for what? People whose curiosity has finally gotten the better of them will ask me, "what are you doing here?" Good question, I think to myself. I'll get back to you when I have an answer. For now, I just reply, "I'm here to learn". It's cryptic but most are not curious enough to inquire further.

Last time during service I stood against one corner of the kitchen trying desperately to stay out of the way and stop my hair from catching fire on the incredibly hot salamander oven above my head. This time the chef looked at me and said "you're going to take care of the amuse bouche so you'll be involved with the service". Great, I thought.

One of the garde manger cooks showed me how to plate the amuse bouche. It consisted of three parts: a crab roll cut into thick coins and placed on top a small pinch ("just what you can hold in your fingers") of spaghetti squash, a squash soup with parmesan foam and a squash quiche cut into a square with yogurt and toasted pumpkin seeds on top. It all had to be assembled at the right time. It was easy enough to organize: you could prepare the bed of spaghetti squash and arrange the quiche ahead of time because they could be served at room temperature. But you had to time the soup just right. The foam came off another station so you had to yell out, "parm foam down" so the person with the foam would know when to pass it to you. The first time I had to do this I couldn't bring myself to yell out the order. "I'll do it next time," I said. And I did. Preparing the foam is fun: you buzz it first and then scoop it off, then drop it vertically from your spoon.

It feels great to be part of this team. All of them work together seamlessly, anticipating, communicating, and watching this culinary ballet up close is a thing of beauty.

At the end of the night, I head over to the office to talk to Dale. I thank him for letting me come in and ask if I can make this a weekly arrangement for the foreseeable future. He has no problems with this, doesn't ask any questions. I leave feeling great, with more skills and revelations and promises of more to come.

Scratching the Surface at Lumiere

The first day I walked into Studio 31 at CBC Radio in Vancouver to watch The Early Edition live in action, I had no idea what was going on. The studio director Shiral was super energetic, which I couldn't understand because it was 5:30 in the morning when I got there. They kept throwing to items and Shiral was frenetically typing on a screen while counting down the host to every segment. Phones were ringing...people were running in and out of the studio...I just sat there and watched, dumbfounded.

Perhaps prophetically, that first day I got to sit in and watch an interview with a very intense and talented chef who had just taken over the landmark Vancouver restaurant Lumiere. It was probably his second day after being named head chef. That would be Dale Mackay.

He -- a year and a half later -- would be the chef who would lead me through my first full kitchen experience.

In a previous blog posting I wrote about how I won a day in the kitchen at Lumiere on New Year's Eve. It was part of a draw they did at db Bistro next door. I was thrilled to pieces because I'd been exploring ways to gain experience in the culinary world in my quest to become a food writer.

I finally cashed in my prize this Friday. And man...did I get an experience.

I had absolutely no idea what to expect when I walked in. My main goals were to absorb as much information as possible while trying like hell not to ruin everything.

Here's everything that I can remember in brief, in as consecutive an order as I can recall. Otherwise I might as well quit my day job to finish writing this:

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I step into the kitchen at 11 am. Everybody is working full steam ahead already. I'm change into uniform and am desperately trying to recall every piece of culinary information so I can better process what's going on.

Get introduced to everyone and each position. I pray there's no pop quiz or I'm toast.

First up: time at the saucier station. First question I get asked: "do you know how to hold a knife?" Good question...haven't really given much thought to it. Am able to simulate a good enough approximation. Set to work cutting 1 cm long diamonds of peppers to garnish the mussel soup. It's much, much harder than you'd think. Am shown how to clean mussels and how to prepare the soup. Am told this is the greatest soup ever. It is.

At the meat station I am shown how to break down a duck for the first time. My mother does it by hacking away with a giant meat cleaver. Apparently this is not the traditional way to do things. Also get to try veal tongue.

Then am taken to check out one of the supply trucks that comes by every week. Have never been around that much high end produce before. Have never been around people so enthused about their product. It's awesome.

Off to the veg station. I'm cutting out rounds of sweet potato and cabbage. Am shown the potato cooking away in duck fat and butter. Good thing I hate diets.

I watch Dale painstakingly create what proves to be a beautiful terrine. Elements required include foie gras that's soaked in milk for four days and intricately assembled with truffles. Layered with venison and gelatin infused stock. Note to anyone eating this: value every molecule contained in this dish. You have no idea the amount of work per square millimetre.

Am given a tasting spoon to try the various soups and sauces. Am encouraged to try everything. I do. Keep spoon in pocket. Really comes in handy throughout the day.

Get to assist the only two ladies in the kitchen with pastries. Find out all the detail work involved in creating pineapple chips. Will forever treasure every garnish I'm served.

Am repeatedly asked if I'm a new employee. It's awkward having to explain what I'm doing there. But everyone is super nice.

Am also repeatedly told to ask more questions. My question for everyone is just: what are you doing? Everyone is very accomodating...explains what they're doing, what they're working with and how they're doing it without my having to ask. Questions feel redundant. Prefer to revert to journalism mode and observe.

The calm before the storm: at about 5 pm prep ends and the staff meal is served. Everybody hunkers down in the db Bistro dining room. It's nice to see all the camaraderie.

Then back to the kitchen to the garde manger station. Realize the squares under one of the elements of the butternut squash amuse bouche are square for a reason as I set about squaring them. Apparently they warp after baking. Sounds tedious but I love detail work.

At 5:30 service begins. I find as quiet a corner as I can to stand in. Unfortunately it's right under one of the salamander ovens so I spend much time trying to keep my head from bursting into flames.

Service really starts to pick up after 6. Reminds me of a live radio show in that it's all about timing, teamwork and precision. Anyone who doesn't have their shit together would be screwed. Am surrounded by hardcore professionals so this doesn't happen. Only serious issue of service turns out to be an amuse bouche element wrapped in too many layers of cling film. Takes much time and effort to free it of its confines.

And no...Dale does not at any point explode into an expletive filled rage a la a certain British chef. At least -- not while I'm present.

At one point am brought over to the kitchen at db Bistro. Amazing how you can have a completely different animal just a few feet away. That kitchen never stops. While Lumiere serves on average between fifty to sixty patrons a night, db during a peak period will serve between 180 to 200 people. Different food and a totally different atmosphere.

Imagined that my complete lack of experience would've created a fair amount of hesitation in asking me to do anything. Within sixty seconds of meeting chef Stephane Istel, am asked "Would you like to sauce something?" Immediate internal reaction is "ohgodohgodohgodohgod I'm going to destroy their beautiful food". Actual response: "sure". Did not destroy anything.

Then I'm asked to dress a salad. ohgodohgodohgod. I ask how much vinagrette to add. "So it tastes good". Well, duh Joan.

Why the anxiety? Add in all the anticipation, desire to do a great job because perhaps may actually work with these people in the future, and general terrifying fear of screwing up everything. Dressing a salad becomes anxiety-ridden.

Watch the meat station churn out cut after cut of arctic char, with the occasional steak. End up memorizing all the movements but do not dare attempt any of it.

Stephane gives me several dishes to try. They're so good am cursing myself I'm too full to eat them all. Also feel strange eating at the pass while service is going on around me.

At 9 pm -- head back to Lumiere kitchen. One of the waiters has to correct an order. Everyone in the kitchen is pissed because they have to refire orders. I am sole winner in this situation...and get the butternut squash ravioli dish that is no longer going to be served.

At one point am handed half a giant black truffle to hold and smell. It feels dense, heavy and incredibly expensive. Briefly consider running out the door with it.

Am also given other dishes to try throughout course of evening...including hamachi, duck confit spring roll, truffle risotto, and molten chocolate cake with pistachio ice cream. Akin to some kind of fine dining buffet experience I will probably never have again. Am trying to eat as much as possible but human internal capacity is defeating me.

About 10:45 -- service winds down. Now the pastry chef is serving up her beautiful creations. There's a drawer where all the ice cream is stored. Would happily eat my way through that in no time.

Everything is put away and the kitchen gets a good scrub down. Everyone's so fast. Feel guilty about not cleaning my kitchen for weeks. To be fair: haven't been cooking much lately.

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After 11 pm people start to head off. I thank everyone for their help but feel like it's not really adequate. The experience has been more engaging and revelatory than I could have anticipated. I'm still rolling the day around in my head. It's taken me a couple days of thinking to even start writing it down.

I'm asked if this is going up on my blog (which has inexplicably started to be read by people other than my immediate circle of friends). Trevor, I told you I'd write about it. Hope you're keeping your end of the bargain by reading it.

This is all but a fraction of what I got to see and do. There is a lot more I still don't understand but I hope to one day. I managed to break the mystique of the radio world, so I know there's hope there.

Suffice it to say, spending at least a day in a kitchen is something I'd recommend for anyone who wants to know more about what goes on behind the scenes. Not everyone is going to be invited into such an accomodating kitchen. I was lucky because I got to be in one of the best. My sincere thanks to chef Mackay and everyone in the kitchen who guided me through what they do best. They are, indeed, among the best for very good reasons.

2009, Here I come....

I got here in April 2006. I had only been to Vancouver a couple times to visit. Didn't know anyone. Didn't have a job. Was taking a huge leap of faith that Fernando's job was going to be awesome and that I, too, would find an awesome job.

After months of selling jewelry, clothing, helping teach English to international students, I was facing a 13 HOUR boxing day shift trying to sell overpriced clothes to people with more money than taste. I'd had it.

Then I met a lovely journalism student who was trying on a sweater. We chatted about journalism and she mentioned that she was doing an internship at CTV. That day I applied, got in shortly thereafter, quit my job and worked for free for three months straight. Then I got paid freelance work. Then I got to CBC Radio where I've been an associate producer ever since. It looks simple when I'm writing it now...but that was one steep hill to climb.

This year, I'm going to be facing a whole new set of challenges and what I hope will be rewards. I've set a deadline to go to culinary school this October, so now I'm saving money, preparing scholarship applications, and biting my nails wondering if I'm doing the right thing pinning my hopes on being a food writer. I know I can write. But will anyone want to read?

I like to think that my New Year's Eve celebration is a beacon of things to come, because it was fantastic. We headed out to db Bistro: me, Fernando, his sister Fernanda (no, it's NOT normal for siblings to have the same name in Brazil...) and one of Fernando's reporters. I had just eaten there less than a month ago (there's a previous entry about this below) and had a great time. I wanted to dress up a bit for NYE. I wanted to be coddled. I wanted to eat great food. I wanted to have a great time.

It definetely was a great time. Fernando and I both opted for wine pairings with the dishes, which ensured we were totally smashed by the end of the meal. I had to pass along my last glass of port because I knew I'd end up passed out in the bathroom if I didn't.

The staff passed out noisemakers and other NYE necessities. This greatly outranked the NYE we spent in a casino where, because they don't want people to notice the passage of time, there were no clocks or anything remotely indicating when the New Year was supposed to be rung in. We ended up asking a fellow patron who informed us that it was in fact just past midnight.

The New Year was rung in. Then we were given slips to fill out as part of a draw they were doing. You could win a day with the chef in either Lumiere or db Bistro and then dinner. There would be one winner for each restaurant.

I could barely fill out my own application thanks to the wine and my general lack of coordination. Fernando said, "You know we're going to win, right?" in reference to the fact that every year at his company Christmas party for the past two years -- he's won their grand prize. The first year was a paid day off. Last year was a free trip for two to the Dominican Republic. That was, needless to say, the best prize ever.

Well, Fernando was right. Just as I noticed the draw was taking place, they announced the winner for the Lumiere prize: me. I was of course thrilled to bits.

Shortly afterwards I marched over to their kitchen to once again harass the poor head chef, Dale Mackay (see previous entry about our first encounter). It's probably not a great thing that both times we've spoken I've been drunk.

Dale, as usual, was perfectly accomodating to whatever the heck it is I said. He apparently is notified whenever their public relations person finds an online mention of him, so if he's reading this I do promise that at our next meeting I will be totally sober. The funny thing is, I hardly ever drink. He just catches me at my most celebratory.

I can't wait to spend the day in the kitchen. As I've written before, I have spent over seven hours on my feet with a recorder doing a story in one. This time I'll be an actual guest. And now I will be seeing it through the eyes of someone who wants to actually learn the functions and flow as a future potential culinary student.

I don't want to jinx myself but it does seem as though this particular plan of mine for going back to school is coming together nicely. I'm so ready to take on 2009. Here I come...

...and for my friend Devon...Happy New Year!

A foodie nerd wet dream

Who's got a blog and had the greatest dinner EVER last night? THIS GAL!

We finally got to eat at the brand spanking Lumiere redux. Now with Daniel Boulud and Dale Mackay at the helm.

Let's go right to the food. We had a three course dinner. First we were presented with an amuse bouche of broccoli done three ways. I know it sounds weird but it was fantastic. Among the items was an oyster with some kind of broccoli puree served on a bed of sea salt. Fantastic. Also a shot glass with a broccoli soup and a crouton wrapped in prosciutto.

Appetizer: venison with celeriac done two ways. It was so beautiful and detailed. Ever since I got to spend time with Canada's Bocuse Team I've been blown away by how much detail work goes into really great food.

Then my main course: arctic char with leeks. I think the char was done en souvide. It was topped with a cloud of crispy potato. Again, clean, beautiful, stunning. People say the way food looks doesn't matter...well...it REALLY REALLY makes a difference when you make this kind of effort. It's also an interesting juxtaposition between the formality of the way it's presented and the way it tastes, because to me the flavours always seem so warm and enveloping.

Dessert was chocolate fondant with pistachio ice cream. Anytime you pair warm, gooey chocolate with ice cream is just fine by me.

Then came the REAL highlight of the evening. As if the meal wasn't amazing enough. The maitre d' came over and asked us if we'd been over to db Bistro. I said yes, we had just been there a couple days ago (see below). THEN he asked if we'd spoken with Daniel Boulud yet.

Then I think my brain exploded.

We were asked if we wanted him to come over to the table. I was like, "ABSOLUTELY!" Probably scaring the poor guy half to death. So we waited. And then he was there. The whole time in my brain I kept thinking, "do not make an ass of yourself" because sadly, I have a history of making an ass in front of people I admire, including Sarah McLachlan and Wendy Mesley.

Luckily, thanks to the wine I was totally coherent. I think. I told him what a thrill it was to meet him and he took it like a champ who's heard that a million times. He's excellent at self-promotion. He knows exactly how to make you feel like he's interested in you, whether or not he really is. He actually spent quite some time chatting with us (when Fernando was talking about his newspaper I thought to myself, my god, one of the world's most celebrated chefs is listening to my husband drone on about newspapers). He also talked about his displeasure with the service ("not so smooth yet" was his opinion although we could scarcely complain).

THEN........then he asked if we had met Dale yet. As in Dale Mackay, the head chef of Lumiere. My brain exploded again. He led us, oh so gracefully, to the kitchen where the entire staff seemed to stop and stare at us. Dale was totally open to all my prying questions about how he was finding the Vancouver market and how he was adjusting to the opening. I remember the first time I saw Dale in an interview. It was probably the day after he got the job at Lumiere and he arrived at The Early Edition. I was there for the first time watching them put the show on air. He was quite nervous and intense. Talking to him in the kitchen, he was a completely different person, able to laugh and talk freely about his experiences. I think it's a combination of intense media training and the fact that I didn't have a microphone in front of me.

AND THEN.............Daniel escorted us next door to db Bistro to meet THEIR head chef, Stephane Istel. We walked past BC's Attorney General Wally Oppal on the way. Love him.

db Bistro's kitchen was bustling, so we couldn't stay long. We did schmooze long enough for me to figure out that Stephane's charm was going to carry him a long way in this town.

All the while, Daniel was the most charming host. You'd think we were his family members and not some loser journalists barging in during dinner service.

That evening could NOT have gotten any better. I waited an appropriate amount of time after walking out the door before squealing and jumping up and down. Only in Vancouver do you have the chance to hob nob with the likes of Daniel Boulud and his homies. Only in Vancouver. I think I'm starting to like it here!

db Bistro Heaven

Here I go again...with another gushing foodie nerd entry.

So yesterday at work I get the best email EVER from Fernando: We're being invited to db Bistro. Do you want to go for dinner?

I phoned him immediately and didn't even say hello. "HELL YEAH!" was what I think I said.

For those of you that have no idea which restaurant I'm talking about, db Bistro is a new restaurant in Vancouver, attached to the illustrious Vancouver institution, Lumiere.

A lowdown on Lumiere: was created by uber chef Rob Feenie. Then last year Rob Feenie was suddenly and shockingly let go. The new owners have installed Dale Mackay, a former Gordon Ramsay sous chef from New York, as the new head chef. I kind of have a crush on him, having first laid eyes on him the day after he was named head chef and had come into the CBC studio to do a radio interview with Rick Cluff. He was so intense looking...and for some reason I'm drawn to that. Bordern psychotic intensity is very attractive. I don't know what that says about Fernando. Oh, btw, we were also engaged at Lumiere, so it has special meaning for me.

Anyway, back to db Bistro. So we get there...and it's gorgeous. It's very French bistro meets West Coast chic. We sat down and started looking through the menu. Immediately I know I have to have the charcuterie plate (for two) and the Berkshire pork as a main. We're also given sparkling wine as a lubricant, which doesn't hurt.

The charcuterie plate is magnificent. The jambon ('cause it sounds better than just saying ham) is lush with fat...I think I talked about how good the fat was for...like, five minutes. I also raved on and on about it was a crime that Victoria Beckham doesn't eat ham. I had had a couple glasses of wine by then.

Then comes the Berkshire pork. It comes in two ways: on one side, tenderloin with sauerkraut. A row of potatoes in the middle. Then on the other side: cripsy belly with coleslaw. How clever. Pork and cabbage done two different ways.

Fernando had lamb in this unbelievable ragout. By then all I could do was say "This is SO good..." over and over again. I'm pretty sure the staff thought I was deranged. Or had never eaten food before.

Then our helpful waiter suggested we have a clafouti with two kinds of gelato...and that's when the other shoe dropped. It was molten, bittersweet heaven. And the vanilla and chocolate flavours were so intense, better than any frozen dessert I've ever had.

I know this sounds almost pornographic. But that's how much I enjoy myself when I eat at a great restaurant.

I couldn't've been happier. Until the person who invited us to db Bistro invited us to eat at Lumiere tomorrow. I don't need to tell you how happy I was to hear that!

So my next entry will be about that experience. Get ready for more gushing.