Chatelaine Magazine, April, 2001
GOURMET GETAWAY
by Anita Draycott
My friend Marijke and I bonded over an apple pie. We'd met at a small country inn a few years ago, and unlike so many people who promise to keep in touch after a vacation, Marijke and I actually did. She called me one Sunday afternoon and invited me over to try a new deep-crust recipe.
Since then we've shared many a meal and become close friends, but we don't see enough of each other. So, we decided it was time to treat ourselves to a weekend cooking school getaway.
We weren't looking to become restaurant chefs. We simply wanted to relax, have fun and learn a culinary trick or two.
There are plenty of cooking classes to choose from across Canada. Some offer afternoon or evening classes; some longer, but all we wanted was a gastronomic getaway with the accent on relaxation. I knew when I phoned Chez Soleil in Stratford, Ont., that I'd found our kind of place.
"We take only six people on weekends," explained co-owner Janet Sinclair. "Your group decides on the theme. We can do Indian, Thai, chocolate - anything. And you'll have the cottage to yourselves," she continued. "Come on Friday afternoon. We'll serve you a leisurely breakfast on Saturday morning before the class starts at 10:30. We'll stop for lunch at 1:30, then break again until about six, depending on what time you want to have dinner." When she told me about a recent party of women who never got out of their pyjamas, I was sold.
Because Marijke and I were the first to sign on, we got to suggest the culinary theme: the robust cuisine of Sicily. A few weeks later, Janet faxed me a choice of three menus. Janet and her partner, Liz Mountain, make a dynamic pair. Liz is a trained chef; Janet, a graduate of the New York School of Interior Design, teaches restaurant design at the Stratford Chefs School. On weekends, they share their funky cottage and their passion for food with guests.
Marijke and I were the first to arrive, so we had our choice of the three themed bedrooms, each with a private bath: the très French "Year en Provence," the theatrical "Porky and Beth" with papier mâché pigs, or "Alice's Room." We opted for Wonderland, with its daisy-motif duvets and giant chessboard set with quirky salt-and-pepper rook and a teapot king.
"The fireplace is set. Make yourselves at home," said Janet. Dinner on Friday night isn't included in the package so we picked up some takeout noodles from Menrui, a nearby Thai restaurant, uncorked a Merlot and unwound. The next day's Sicilian menu was written on the bistro-style blackboard in the dining room: crusty semolina bread; warm spinach custards with an Asiago cheese glaze; fricassee of lamb on a bed of Parmesan mashed potatoes and braised fennel root; eggplant caponata topped with grilled tuna steak; toasted hazelnut-and-bittersweet chocolate torte.
Saturday morning, our fellow students joined us for sage and cornmeal pancakes. Among them were Mark, a food and garden TV show producer, Ze, his girlfriend, another enthusiastic foodie and Heidi, a graphic designer, who had won this weekend at a charity auction.
Time to start cooking. The Chez Soleil kitchen wasn't what I had expected. More like my grandmother's friendly no-frills kitchen than a modern state-of-the-art laboratory. Most of the cupboards and counters were original to the 1925 house. On one wall stood a very functional butcher-block work counter. An imposing stainless-steel Thermador stove surrounded by four'40s diner stools took centre stage. The refrigerator and freezer were located in the adjoining pantry. No dishwasher - Janet and Liz prefer the therapeutic benefits of washing and drying dishes the old-fashioned way. Nor do they have much use for food processors or microwaves. "Nuking is not cooking," scoffed Liz.
We would be cooking from scratch using elbow grease, knives, graters and a mortar and pestle. We would also be using the healthiest organic ingredients. Genetically modified foods are not welcome at Chez Soleil.
To get us started, they gave us each a copy of the recipes. But safety first. Liz instructed us to carry knives close to our thighs, tips pointed down. She also advised us to announce "hot pot" and "oven door opening." After all, the seven of us would be sharing a kitchen just four metres square.
And so began a delightful few hours of chatter while we took turns kneading bread, grating chocolate, roasting hazelnuts and boning a lamb shoulder. Liz taught me a sensual and effective method of separating eggs by cradling the yolk in my palm while the whites ran through my fingers. Janet and Liz also taught us to use all of our sensed-to touch, smell, taste, look and listen. These are hands-on lessons you won't get from a cooking show or cookbook. I am also convinced that those executives sent on death-defying corporate team-building exercises with Outward Bound would bond far more tightly by slicing and dicing together.
By lunchtime, the bread dough was rising on the counter and delicious aromas were wafting from the torte in the oven. We sat around the dining room table to a lunch that Janet described as "A vegetarian tour of the world" - roasted eggplant, peppers and mushrooms; Thai-spiced guacamole; Greek tzatziki; Lebanese hummus; Moroccan harissa; Yukon sourdough bread; aged cheddar.
We had the rest of the afternoon to go antiquing and buy some wine. We even had time for a nap.
Back in the kitchen at six, Heidi uncorked some champagne and we resumed our chores - grating Parmesan, whisking the sauce for the lamb, steaming the tuna.
The table was set with a festive voile cloth and gigantic candle sticks. Mark opened the wine and we began our dégustation. We agreed it was a raving success. After all, we'd made it. Eventually, we pried ourselves away from the table and adjourned to the living room for a card game, Amaretto and a sliver of torte. We didn't have to do the dishes or designate a driver. Maybe this really was Wonderland.
Next morning, we lingered over Liz's perfect omelettes and hot-from-the-oven sticky buns. Janet brought out some of her favourite cookbooks and gave us some tips on where to shop for knives and copper pots.
Thoroughly nurtured and up to date on mutual gossip, Marijke and I left Chez Soleil with our Sicilian recipes and some sticky buns for the folks back home. If all learning was this much fun, I'd never have left school.
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