Salmon with Cannellini Beans in Tomato Sauce

When I am trying to shed some unwanted weight (read: post-pregnancy pre-caribana blitz) I can't go wrong with salmon or sardines. The problem is I can't take these to work (it's really really pungent!), but on the flip side, it is the perfect low-fat low-carb dinner that is extremely satisfying. The version below is salmon, but you could substitute in sardines for a completely different texture.

Close up: notice how the cannellini have just barely split.

Now some people have an aversion to fish. Some have a prejudice against canned products. For those who hate both, this dish must bother the hell out of them. But I remind you this is born from humble roots; remove the beans and the cooking process and this is a typical Guyanese family breakfast when accompanied with roti.  A family who couldn't afford much could afford tinned fish, an onion and a pepper. All I did was remove the carbs and add back in some fiber and protein. Growing up, we ate it because it was delicious. One day, my children, I hope both of you will enjoy this as much as I do, but for now, oily fish is not what I want to give you to turn you off seafood. Simple white fish will do for now. But when you are a little older I will serve this to you. and hopefully you will be able to eat it with the pepper.

Ingredients

Salmon		2 tins, drained
Onion		1 large, finely chopped
Garlic		10 cloves, minced
Whole Tomatoes		1 tin, (tomato and juice)
Cannellini Beans		1 tin, drained and rinsed
Thai Chili		1, minced
Canola		1 tbsp
Black Pepper		1 tsp, freshly ground
Sea Salt		1/2 tsp

Preparation:

1. Open all tins
2. Drain excess liquid from salmon
3. Pour cannellini beans into a seive and rinse until water runs clear
4. Finely chop onion, set aside
5. Mince garlic set aside
6. In mid-size pot, heat oil on medium heat.
7. Saute onion and garlic
8. Add the cannellini beans and saute for five minutes, or until beans have softened
9. Add tomatoes, salmon, minced chili and black pepper
10. break up the tomatoes with the back of the spoon
11. Stir mixture together and let it come to a simmer for about five minutes
12. Add salt and stir to incorporate
13. The mixture will thicken slightly. this should take no more than 5 minutes
14. Remove from heat and serve

Communism Bad for Cuisine

I mentioned that I would post about our trip to Cuba, and I have been slacking. It's been over two months now, but I find that is the amount of time it has taken for my digestive system to recalibrate itself and find it in it's gut to forgive me. For I have heaped atrocities in the form of near-spoiled and much-stale food upon it, and it is no surprise my stomach held a grudge.

I'm not saying all food in Cuba is bad; on the contrary, we ate some delicious lobster at a restaurant called Barracuda (I read some tourist reviews after our return) at a restaurant on the beach. The owners, the musicians, all attentive, all smiles on their faces, and from what I gather, really enjoying themselves, this, their home, their livelihood, and they indeed made it beautiful.

But the day fear strikes you to your bowels is the day you eat on the resort. Again, not all resort food was bad, BUT...

When at the omelet station, I asked for capers and smoked salmon in my egg whites, he dumped a hunk of matted salmon, two spoonfuls of capers in their brine, more brine than capers, and tossed it into my half cooked whites and slid the whole sloppy mess onto my plate. This was not an isolated incident - at a restaurant in Havana, a tourist trap our Cubanos 'friends' wanted us to visit (for the kickback, we realized after being seated), the meat was tough, the dining room empty (except for one other table, our friends, who were also taken by the same group of Cubans), and the service, well.... what service?

The 'chain' workers, the ones who are there for a job, they do exactly that - the job. They do not care how the food is presented, only that it is presented. Follow the instructions as quickly as possible. Taste, presentation, quality - these are not concerns that plague the chain worker. This is not their fault either; they need a job because they need money, so if this is the job they can get to suit their needs, by all means, take it. It's our own faults for patronizing their establishments, isn't it? If we want good food, it's up to us to seek it out.

That's why, one day, walking through Veradero, with my husband and our friends, I saw a little restaurant, a couple locals walking out, and the menu was unpretentious but interesting enough to make me say, 'this is where I want to have lunch.' And the friends all followed. And though they messed up our order, the food was still good. I had to share my plate with my husband for how big the portion was. But what got me was the portly owner behind the counter, sheepishly bending over backwards to get out the missing dish (which I declined, come on, when I'm hungry I get pissy; who doesn't?), who took such pride when he came over to ask how our meal was.

People say love makes the food better. I don't expect a stranger to love me. But if your livelihood is in part feeding people, care about your food. Because it doesn't take hate to ruin someones stomach for weeks. Only neglect.

I'm sure there are many wonderful little restaurants in Cuba, which is unfortunate, because I would have liked to have seen them while I was there. As you surely can guess, H and I will not be making a return trip. The only location where my final meal could ever be bread, while, olive oil and cheese should be Italy. And that, hopefully, will come sometime in the next few years...

Ricely Restoration

Congee.

It doesn't look like much. Most people wouldn't give it a second thought. So why is it a staple amongst my Hong Kong friends? For those of us who don't have this hereditary treasure on our dining room tables, we leave the home and seek out one of the specialists. Fortunately for me, I have my pick of a flavourful lot.

It's something on a menu that I would bypass for other more protein heavy offerings. I mean, in theory, it's one of the most carb-heavy items you could get, yet this pale velvety smooth elixir
does wonders for the body. It's no wonder that, when suffering a prolonged bout of gastro-intestinal discomfort after my Cuban trip, my doctor (yes, himself an HK native) prescribed a diet consisting mostly of congee.

Along with some other rules (a few doses of probiotics, no grease, caffeine, acids or spice) he said congee would provide the nutrition I need, be easy on my stomach while it recalibrate, and will fill me with little discomfort. You can't make the same claim for a bowl of plain steamed rice (though a fresh forkful is simplistic deliciousness).

Right after my visit to the doctor I called my father and met him at a restaurant we frequent for dimsum. The first thing I ordered was that bowl of congee, containing shredded meat, some herbs, and crisped shards of crackerlike bread (named after a much hated Chinese General). It appears bland but explodes with flavour. It's warming. It's healing. A complete meal in one bowl. I can see how the doctor could turn to this simple dish, and I respect him for doing so, rather than prescribing antibiotics.

More often than not food affects our well being; making us ill, helping us heal, or stabilizing our physical body so our systems can take over and get to work at making us better. Sometimes it makes us uncomfortable, sometimes it wraps us in a blanket of comfort. But for all the things it can do, I'll never again will I underestimate the expert of camouflage - a simple bowl of congee.