Eight Legged Wonders

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine called me up after having dinner at my restaurant. He had really enjoyed his meal, but was particularly fond of the grilled octopus. He told me that he had never been able to prepare it so that it was tender and flavourful. He asked me if I had any secrets to preparing grilled octopus, and I reminded him that I have no secrets. For this reason, I now present my technique for tender grilled octopus.

First you will need an octopus or two. I recommend getting them from a fish market rather than a grocery store as there tends to be a greater turnover in product. My preference is for a 3-4 pound octopus which I generally buy frozen and then thaw in the fridge overnight.

Take a large stockpot and place your octopus(or pi) in the pot. Add dry spices. My preference is for a mixture of peppercorns, bay leaves, red pepper flakes and fennel seed, but this can be altered to suit your personal taste.

Next come the other aromatics. I enjoy a Mediterranean-style dish, so I use flavourings native to that area; lemon, onion, thyme, parsley and garlic. All ingredients are rough chopped as they will have plenty of time to release their flavour during the cooking process.

Add enough water to cover the octopus(pi) by at least 2". At this point stir in enough salt that the water tastes "salted", but not "salty". I like to use sea or kosher salt as they are not iodized and have a purer flavour. Place over high heat and bring to a boil. Immediately turn the heat to medium and allow the octopus to simmer for at least 1 hour, topping up the water level as necessary.

After 1 hour, you can begin checking for tenderness. I have a technique that always works, regardless of the size of octopus. Pick up the octopus using a pair of tongs and holding around the middle of one of the thicker legs. When the octopus is tender, the weight of the body will cause the leg to start to pull away from the body. If this does not happen, continue simmering.

Once you have determined that your octopus is sufficiently cooked, remove it from the water and allow to cool to a safe handling temperature.

Once you can handle the octopus comfortably, cut off the head and discard. In the center of the legs is the mouth. Remove that as well. Separate each leg the cut into manageable pieces. I like to cut on a bias to provide more surface area for grilling.

Drizzle with olive oil and season lightly with salt and pepper. Place on a very hot grill, turning often until heated through and beginning to crisp.

After grilling, I like to toss my octopus in a dressing to add another level of flavour. At the restaurant, I use a mixture of ground kalamata olives, olive oil and fresh basil.

At this point you will have created a truly wonderful octopus dish, full of flavour and meltingly tender.

Enjoy!!

Scars

I was caught yesterday by one of my dishwashers. There had been a lull in the dinner service, and as I was washing my hands, I was inexplicably startled by their appearance. It was as though I had never seen them before and was now looking at them with new eyes. I suspect he may have been questioning my sanity as I stared, but I was fascinated.

As with any cook who has been in this business as long as I have, my hands are now spider-webbed with a network of burns, cuts, scrapes and scars, forever branding me as a dweller in ‘The Hidden Kitchen”. The rough, often-chewed knife callus at the base of my first finger. The slash across my left wrist from an awkward lemon zesting accident. (A tale that will be revealed in a future posting!) The missing section of fingernail, never to grow back, victim of a mishandled cleaver. And every last one of them, carried with pride.

It brought to mind a visit I had many years ago to a small museum that was showing an exhibition of Native American masks alongside N.H.L. goalie masks. There was one, that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. It had been worn by Boston Bruins goalie Gerry Cheevers in the 1970’s. He began each season with a plain white mask, but every time he was struck with a puck or stick, his trainer would paint stitches on the location.

Like this hockey icon, I wear my scars proudly. They are a constant reminder of where I’ve come from, and who I am.

Why "From the Hidden Kitchen"?

24 years ago, on a snowy Sunday morning, a somewhat timid fourteen year old boy walked up to the staff entrance of a pancake house in Southern Ontario, Canada. As he reached out to knock on the door, it was thrown open, knocking the boy on his backside into a rather significant snowdrift. An angry young man in a chef’s coat stormed out, leaving a trail of four-letter words and insults in his wake. A second head popped out a moment later. A burly man in a filthy chef’s coat took in the sight of the snow-covered boy and demanded to know what he wanted. “I’m the new dishwasher,” was the reply. After a moment’s consideration, he looked the boy in the face and asked, ”Can you cook?”

In that instant, I made the decision that was to set the rest of my life in motion.

Without even the slightest hesitation, I said, “Yes.” “Can you cook bacon? Sausage? Ham? Eggs? Burgers?” “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” A hand was extended and as I was helped out of the snowbank, I heard the fateful words that were to begin my culinary adventure. “You’re our new meat cook.”

Truth be told, I did resist for one brief second. “But I’m the new dishwasher.” “Meat cook pays $3 more an hour than dishwasher.” There was a pregnant pause. I stood a little straighter, brushed off the snow, and announced, “I’m your new meat cook.”

Since that morning, I have lived the greatest part of my life in kitchens. Basement kitchens. Back rooms. Closets with a stove and a deep fryer. Galleys with 3 microwaves and 2 hotplates. Grand hotel kitchens with more square footage than my last house. But always kitchens. And always hidden. Forever that magical place behind the swinging doors where the food comes from.

That hidden world has made me into the man I am today. I have had the privilege to work with incredible people. I have seen the impossible, achieved simply through the refusal to accept that it couldn’t be done. I have learned a great deal about food, people and life.

The time has come for the tales and secrets from the hidden kitchen to see the light of day…