Tag Archives: chicken

Smoked paprika

I’m obsessed with smoked paprika right now. I’m putting it in and on everything: roast chicken, hummus, and Cheryl’s roasted eggplant dip.

Paprika is made by grinding up red bell peppers. It’s usually associated with Hungarian cooking, as it plays a central part in goulash.

I prefer smoked Spanish paprika. It’s a little less spicy, and the smokiness is really subtle. It wends its way through dishes and makes things taste like mellow summer days by the barbecue. I love Chiquilin brand smoked paprika (“pimenton ahumado”), which you should be able to find in most specialty stores in Vancouver.

Chiquilin smoked paprika

Family treasures: soya sauce chicken

I’m an only child, so I’ve never had to argue with siblings over who got the newest toy, or who got to sit where, or whatever siblings argue about. See? I’m such an only child that I don’t even know.

When it comes to family treasures, the thing I want most is my mom’s marinade for soya sauce chicken. She has two jars of dark, dark brown sauce in the freezer that are older than I am. It’s essentially a braising liquid for any kind of meat (usually chicken) or, my favourite, hard-boiled eggs.

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Ottawa: Vietnam Noodle House

When I first moved to Ottawa, the first restaurant that I ate at was Vietnam Noodle House. It’s outside of the main clump of Vietnamese restaurants, and is a lot bigger than most. It’s a large, clean and surprisingly bright space in the basement of an otherwise nondescript commercial building.

The family who runs it is phenomenally nice. Their pho is nothing remarkable, but their main dishes are really good. They have a selection of “broken rice” dishes, which feature grains of rice that are, indeed, broken. They’re cooked al dente and topped with a variety of meat (preserved pork, barbecued chicken or pork, ham) and often a fried egg. Yum.  

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Jerk this, mon.

One of my favourite memories of New York was when Nrinder, my lovely host, took me to a hole-in-the-wall Caribbean restaurant called Taste of the Islands. I don’t have a hope in hell of finding it again, much less telling you where it is, but I know that it’s within a few blocks of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, there’s no sign outside, and I probably would have walked right by it had Nrinder not gone inside.

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It’s snowing cats and dogs

I haven’t seen this much snow, or snowflakes this size, since my first year living in Kingston. And that was Kingston, not Vancouver. Crazy.

Apparently, grocery stores are running out of food. We’re definitely getting creative at my house. With the Christmas party (and turkey) cancelled, this might just be the year to start a new tradition: Christmas pizza.

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