Belgian Endive in Ham

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Belgian Endive in Ham

Not many people are familiar with Belgian endive and even less know how to prepare it. It’s no big mystery really and you certainly don’t need to be a kitchen princess to prepare this dish. All you need are these step by step instructions and you’ll be ready to surprise your family with a unique European dish.

Ingredients for four people

4 sticks of Belgian endive

4 big slices of cooked ham

Flour

Butter

Cheese

Breadcrumbs

Salt

Water

Preparation

Wash the Belgian endive under cold running water. Don’t cut off the stems. The stem is what keeps the endive leaves from falling off during the cooking process. Place the endive in a pot, add plenty of water and a flat teaspoon of salt.

When the water boils, turn down the heat and let the endive simmer until soft by the stem. To test, insert knifepoint near the stem of the endive.

When soft, scoop the endive out of the pot with a fork and place them in a strainer.

Prepare the sauce

Melt a tablespoon of butter in a saucepan and add four tablespoons of flour over moderate heat. Stir with a whisk. Add the water in which the Belgian endive was cooked until the mixture is thick and smooth. Add a generous helping of cheese. If the sauce is too thick, a little bit of the endive water.

Prepare the Belgian endive

Roll each stick of Belgian endive in a slice of ham and secure the ham with a toothpick.

Place the endive in an oven dish. Pour the cheese sauce over the endive in ham. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs.

Grill in the oven until the breadcrumbs are golden brown.

For those who are in a hurry, white sauce or cheese sauce from a packet works just as well.

Day 24: Not even the birds wanted my cookies

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 24: Not even the birds wanted my cookies

Someone asked me today if one of my hobbies was cooking and baking. Euh well, I cook dinner every night, but I would hardly call it a hobby. 

Am I a good cook? Well, you would have to ask my son that. I haven’t poisoned him yet, so that’s a good sign. By no stretch of the imagination am I competition for Julia Child though, so let’s just say that I’m an average cook.

As for baking … no, where it comes to baking I have two left hands. Let me tell you a story, two stories actually. Long-time readers might be familiar with the stories as they’ve been published before, but since I have quite a few new subscribers to my blog I’ll tell the stories again.

I remember the day like it was

yesterday. My son, Dieter, had his 6^th birthday coming up and I was going to make cupcakes for his party. I got all the ingredients together, mixed the dough, scooped bits of it into the paper cups and placed the lot in the oven.

“Keep an eye on them will you, Dieter,” I said. “I’m quickly gonna go and make the beds.”

It didn’t take long before he called “Ma! The cupcakes are foaming.”

I stuck my head out of one of the bedrooms. “You mean they are rising? They’re supposed to do that.”

A short while later Dieter called again. “Ma, those cupcakes are rising really high.”

“How high?” I called back.

“I don’t know,” he said, appearing in the bedroom doorway. “The oven looks like a washing machine. All foamy.”

Foamy? That didn’t sound good.

When I went to take a look, I saw right away that something had gone horribly wrong. The whole oven was full of foaming dough and it was forcing its way out through the cracks. To cut a long story short, instead of normal flour I had used self-rising flour with a good dose of yeast. It took me ages to clean the oven and Dieter got a store-bought coke for his birthday.

Not one to give up easily, I decided to try my hand at cookies. Maybe that would work better than cupcakes. I followed the instructions of the cookbook and paid attention to use the correct flour this time.

When the time came to eat the cookies Dieter took a bite and pulled a face.

“What?” I asked him.

“They’re kinda hard,” he said.

I tried one too and OMG this wasn’t a cookie, this was a stone and so were the others.

Instead of throwing them in the bin, I decided to feed them to the birds. Imagine my surprise when a couple of pigeons showed up, briefly pecked at the cookies and took off again. Not even the birds wanted my cookies!

Oh well, I could always feed them to the ducks.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” my ex said. “The ducks might sink.”

The years passed and I met someone who gave me the recipe for focaccia bread. I tried it and it came out beautiful. I tried another kind of bread and while the result was not exactly perfect, it was edible.

Something I make really well though if I say so myself, is ‘Aalsterse vlaaien’. It’s not bread and it’s not a cake, it’s a type of flan, but solid. 

Just about every woman in Aalst, Belgium, knows how to make it and being from Aalst, I too pride myself that I can make it too.

Day 122: The good, the bad and the bloody

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 122: The good, the bad and the bloody

The past 24 hours have been eventful, to say the least.

First, I had a rather bad dream. I know, hearing about other people’s dreams is about as interesting as grating cheese, but this dream of mine was nothing short of extraordinary.

I was bowling at Kennedy Bowl, practicing my game, when an unusual visitor showed up … the queen of England. (Don’t ask me where I come up with this stuff). At some point, the queen was getting a guided tour from Kevin Arsenault who took her behind the lanes. Not in the safe walking area where the ball boys do their work, but on the lanes where the pins are. I threw my ball and missed the queen’s legs by a few inches. She was not impressed.

A few hours later I had an accident while preparing lunch. After moaning for weeks that my potato knife was getting blunt, I bought a new knife in the Dollarstore. Dieter didn’t agree with my purchase, said that you can’t be a good knife for $3. Yeah, well, if this knife wasn’t up to the task he could find me a better one in Canadian Tire, but for now, this Dollarstore knife would have to do.

Today was the first time I used it and … I nicked the tip of my left index finger. Blood everywhere. I rushed to the bathroom to wash my hands with soap and water while yelling at Dieter to bring me a towel. However, when presented with the requested item I didn’t really want to use it as it’s hard to get blood out of a towel. So, I asked for paper towels instead. After a few minutes, the bleeding stopped sufficiently for a band-aid to be applied.

Next up … the Belgium vs. Japan soccer match.

I didn’t watch the match because as mentioned in a previous post, if I watch the game, the Belgians are sure to lose. So, I went down for a nap instead.

I had barely rested my head on the pillow when I heard cursing from the living room. “Did Japan score?” I asked. “Yes,” Dieter said. A while later I heard him snap his laptop shut. This could only mean one thing … Japan had planted another one in Belgium’s goal. This time I didn’t even have to ask, Dieter uttered a frustrated “It’s over.”

I knew that napping was now out of the question. I was too agitated. This had happened time and time again. The Belgians had done well in the qualifying round, they had won all the games in the knock-out round, and now they allowed themselves to be beaten?! I was utterly disgusted with my team.

One way or another I must have drifted off though because I was awoken with a very enthusiastic “WE ARE IN!!!”

I can’t say that I was very surprised as this is typical of the Belgians. They play a relaxed game, passing the ball around without seemingly a care in the world. When Japan scored their first goal, they must have been surprised. When Japan scored their second goal they finally, finally shot into action. The Belgians need a good kick, so to speak, for them to wake up.

And they didn’t disappoint. Not only did they score and score again, in the last four minutes of overtime they scored the third goal making it 3 – 2.

Thank you, Red Devils for nearly giving me a heart attack.

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Day 116: Soccer Fever – Belgium vs. Panama

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 116: Soccer Fever – Belgium vs. Panama

There are two things that bring people together … a disaster and an international sporting event. If you’re feeling a little feverish, not to worry, you’re not the only one, millions of others share your fever, soccer fever that is.

People who usually don’t follow soccer, now sit glued to their television, computer monitor or handheld device to see 22 men run around after a ball. I know, it doesn’t sound very exciting, but for some reason it is.

Those who can’t watch the match, life or televised, still keep track of the score via life updates on FIFA’s website. I’m one of those people. I prefer not to watch a live match because whoever I support loses. And not just in soccer, in all kinds of competitions. Whether it’s an Olympic event, American Idol, a beauty pageant, or an award ceremony, my favorites never ever win.

Take Belgium vs. Panama for instance. Being from Belgium I took a special interest in the Red Devils, but in the first half of the game, Belgium did nothing. There was a lot of running around and kicking the ball back and forth, but nothing qualified as exciting.

The second half I couldn’t watch because I had things to do. And that’s when it happened … the players were barely back on the field when Mertens scored a goal. Having finally woken up, Laluka decided to follow suit and planted a ball in Panama’s net too. So happy was the crowd that he decided he gave them an encore. Final score 3 – 0.

Safe to say, I won’t be watching Belgium’s next match. I’ll keep an eye on the score, but watching the match itself … no way, the men do far better when I’m not around.

Anything you can do, I can do better

Give that man a handkerchief

Stand back, I got this

Brother, this is not the time to dance

I believe I can fly

That's my leg man, not a chair

Does it look any better from down there?

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ISIS - Behind the mask - this might make your blood boil

Special Report Senior International Correspondent: Clarissa Ward

http://www.cnn.com/interactive/2017/03/europe/isis-behind-the-mask/index.html

This story irks me on so many levels. If the Belgian government knows this guy is an ISIS terrorist, why don’t they pick him up and throw his ass in prison, or better yet, kill him. What are they waiting for? For him to kill a few innocent people?

Whenever something happens, the government expresses sympathy for the families of those killed in an attack. Sometimes they even acknowledge that the attacker was known to the authorities. So why let this guy walk around freely. Why not do something before he acts?

It also bothers me that he collects welfare checks. He is a 29-year-old healthy male for heaven sake. Does Islam forbid him to work? Of course not, there are plenty of Muslim people who have jobs. But why would he work if he gets money to do nothing.

His wife, no doubt, doesn’t work either, so she collects welfare too.

And they have a son, which he named after a terrorist and mass murderer. How could the government allow that? I give you one guess with what kind of mentality that kid will grow up. It is a terrorist in the making.

If they have one kid, others will no doubt follow, which means more child support cheques.

If this guy loves Syria so much, why doesn’t the government of Belgium ship him back there? Is he perhaps too chicken to live among his own kind? Oh wait, there he will have to work for a living, do without the handy welfare checks and forego child support.

The article concludes that he is currently serving 18 months for domestic abuse. So he’s a wife beater. Why prison? Get rid of him and do his wife and the country at large a favor.

Instead of holding a microphone in front of him and making him feel important, they should have held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Problem solved.

How to make ‘tomat crevette’

Yesterday’s blog post “How to make the perfect fries” received a record amount of views. Just under 5,000 people showed an interest in this Belgian recipe.

As far as I could tell there were no Belgian readers, but in other parts of the world men and women are now a step closer to putting perfect fries on the table.

Statistics show that this blog is most popular in France, closely followed by the United States. Other readers are from Romania, Germany, United Kingdom, Canada, Latvia, Cyprus, Philippines, Ukraine, Netherlands, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa.

So now that a good number of people know how to make perfect fries, they might wonder what to serve with those fries. In short, anything and everything goes. You can serve fries with steak, with an omelet, with goulash, with a salad … you name it and it works.

However, in Belgium we are particularly fond of serving fries with “tomat crevette”, which is a tomato stuffed with shrimp.

If you want to make this, there’s nothing to it. Even if you have two left hands at cooking, you can’t go wrong with tomat crevette.

What you’ll need for two people:

Two tomatoes

200 grams of shrimp

Mayonnaise

Pepper and salt

Preparation:

Take the tomatoes and plunge them in boiling water for no more than 10 seconds. Remove the tomatoes and submerge them in ice cold water.

With a sharp knife peel the tomatoes, slice off the “hat” and remove the inner flesh of the tomatoes.

Mix the shrimp with mayonnaise and some salt and pepper, spoon the mixture in the tomatoes, and put the hat of the tomato back on.

Serve on a bed of lettuce.

There, that’s it, that’s all there is to it.

www.connymanero.weebly.com

How the make perfect French fries

Being from Belgium, land of the best chocolates, pastries and French fries, I am frequently asked how to make those delectable cakes, tarts and petit fours.

I tell everyone the same thing … I have no idea. When baking skills were handed out, I was not exactly in the front row. In fact, I think I wasn’t even in the room.

As for making the perfect French fries, there I can help you out.

To make good fries, it’s vital that you start off with a good potato. Finding the right potato can take a while. You might think that all potatoes are suitable for French fries, but nothing is further from the truth. And not only does the potato have to be the right kind, it has to be rock hard. If the potato is slightly soft, it cannot produce a good fry.

Once the potatoes are peeled, place them in cold water. The colder the better and leave them there for about an hour.

Next, take a clean towel and thoroughly dry the potatoes. Place the towel on the kitchen counter and cut the potatoes into thick slices, about the size of a finger. Then cut the slices into fries, also about a finger thick.

When you’re done, work the towel over the fries so that they’re as dry as possible. Next place the fries in a pot and cover them with the towel.

In a French fries cooker pour about a liter of oil. This can be sunflower oil or vegetable oil and heat it up to maximum heat. If you have an electric cooker a light will tell you when the oil is ready. If you have a stovetop cooker, drop one fry in the oil and when it sizzles the oil is ready.

Place the raw fries in the oil and turn down the heat. After a few minutes, lift the fries out of the oil, leave them to cool for about one minute and then place them back in the oil.

When the fries are golden brown, lift them out of the cooker and shake off excess oil. Place kitchen paper on a serving tray and pour the fries on the tray. The kitchen paper will absorb any remaining oil.

Lightly sprinkle with salt. Serve plain, with mayonnaise, ketchup, or gravy.

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Father's Day Around the World

Father’s Day celebrates fatherhood.  Not just biological fathers, but grandfathers, foster fathers, stepfathers or any other father figures.  While the majority of the world celebrates dads on the third Sunday of June, Father’s Day around the world is also celebrated in other months as well.

History of Father’s Day

Father’s Day was first celebrated in Spokane, Washington and was the brainchild of Sonara Smart Dodd in 1910.  A year earlier she had suggested that mothers should have a day of celebration.  When her idea proved a success, she felt it was only fair that father’s should have a special day too.

Father’s Day in America

Although every country honors their fathers in a different way, cards, thoughtful gifts, candy and even flowers are the order of the day.  In the absence of a gift, spending time with your dad and doing something he enjoys is perhaps the most appreciated gift of all.

Father’s Day in Australia

Down under, Father’s Day is celebrated on the first Sunday of September.  While children surprise their dad with a thoughtful gift, clubs and societies honor the day too.  Breakfast meetings for fathers, a fun sports event or a program that brings families together are all popular in Australia.

Father’s Day in South Africa

In South Africa, people like to barbeque, or as they call it “braai”.  Father’s Day, or “Vader dag” in South African, is the perfect opportunity to get together with family and friends and gather around the “burner” to cook dad’s favorite meal.  Taking into account that June in South Africa is a winter month, the temperature can be a gamble for an outside celebration.

Father’s Day in Germany

In Germany Father’s Day, or “Vadertag” as the Germans say, is celebrated slightly differently.  For starters the day is always celebrated 40 days after Easter on Ascension Day.  In addition to presenting fathers with presents, some men and boys go on a hiking trip, dragging a wagon of beer or wine along with them.

Father’s Day in Poland

In Poland, Father’s Day (Dzień Ojca), is celebrated on June 23.  While children spoil their fathers, mothers are hard at work in the kitchen preparing one or several of dad’s favorite foods.  Dishes such as sauerkraut with sausage (known as bigos), stuffed dumplings (pierogi), stuffed cabbage rolls (golabki) and sweet noodle pudding (kufel) are eaten with gusto.

Father’s Day in France

French fathers get the royal treatment on Father’s Day (Fête des Pères).  It’s not unusual for a French dad to wake up on the third Sunday in June and get his breakfast of coffee and croissants in bed.  Wine or fashion items are preferred gifts, but something handmade will do just as well.  Some French fathers also like to treat their families to a restaurant meal on Father’s Day.

Father’s Day in Italy

Father’s Day (Festa del Papa) is celebrated in Italy on March 19, the day of the St. Joseph Feast.  Italian households are abuzz with activity on this day, cooking dad’s favorite meal served with wine or “grappa”, along with cookies and breads.  Gifts often include a card with St. Joseph or a key ring or pendant with a picture of the saint.

Except for the dates, Father’s Day around the world isn’t all that different.  Fathers and father figures are honored by those who love them.

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Gaining popularity

This blog started out as a way to vent.  You know how it goes, something gets on your nerves and sharing your grievances with your cat just doesn’t cut it.  A blog seemed like the ideal solution.  I could have my say and move on.

For the longest time “Under the Toronto Sun” had limited viewing.  A few friends followed my posts, averaging between 35 – 50 views per day.

That has changed.  I don’t know what happened, but ever since “Under the Toronto Sun” reached its 25,000 mark, readership has exploded, averaging between 400 – 500 views per day. 

Much to my surprise, I’ve noticed that “Under the Toronto Sun” isn’t just being read in Canada in the United States, but enjoys readership in other parts of the world as well.  Statistics show that this blog has readers in England, Scotland, France, Spain, Belgium, Chile and (a large following in) Brazil.

Unfortunately, so have the comments.  Some are flattering and encouraging, others are on the hurtful side, and then there are the spam messages: financial consultants, marketing experts, diet programs, sex toys and porn sites, they all hope for a posting.

If I see a site I agree with, I will let it through, but most spam messages get deleted.  It’s one of the reasons I started screening the comments.  When this blog was young, anyone and everyone could leave a comment, but since gaining popularity all comments have to be approved by yours truly.

My message to spammers … don’t bother.  If I don’t agree with what you’re advertising, your comments won’t see the light of day.

Homeless?

A few people contacted me, pointing out that it’s been quiet on the Under the Toronto Sun blog.  They’re right, my last entry dates back to July 22.  A dedicated blogger I am not.

In my defense, not much has been happening under the Toronto sun.  In fact, for the past two weeks I’ve been under the Belgian sun.

My father past away after an extended hospital stay.  He was 88 with a number of health problems.  Losing him was not altogether a bad thing.  He was alone after mom passed away three years ago, and resided in an old age home.  Compared to where he was, I’m sure he’s much happier where he is now.

Even with that knowledge, attending his funeral was quite an emotional affair.  As a veteran, dad’s funeral was attended by other veterans, complete with Belgian flags and playing the national anthem in church and at the cemetery.  So many of his friends were there, some of them in wheelchairs. 

 (Dad [far right) with his group of veterans)

My hometown didn’t feel like home anymore.  So much has changed, I hardly recognized the place.  Where the municipal pool used to be is now a college for the performing arts; where I used to go dancing on Saturday and Sunday night is now a hotel; and where my favorite boutique used to be is now a MacDonald's.  What a sight that was, that giant letter “M” on top of a glass and steel structure, among buildings that date back to the 1500s.

(Belfort Aalst)

While in Belgium I stayed at the Ibis hotel.  A charming place.  It might not have been a 5 star hotel, but it sure had 5 star service.  The staff, from the receptionist right down to the chambermaids, were very friendly and knowledgeable.   

(Ibis hotel Aalst)

All too soon August 15^th came around and time for me to pack up and go home.  Only, I couldn’t go home.  At the airport it was discovered that my passport had expired and I was refused access to the plane.  To get back to Toronto I had to organize a new passport.

When I went to the municipality of Aalst, where I was born and raised, they couldn’t find me.  After some digging it was discovered that, because I live abroad, my file was transferred to Ghent.  So off I went to Ghent to apply for a new passport.  To cut a long story short, 240 Euros later I had such a new document.

And so now I’m home again.  Home … strange to think of Canada as home.  I never thought about Canada as home.  Then again, I always thought of Belgium as home, but it isn’t anymore.  Maybe I’m homeless.