The Longest Day

While my fellow Canadians are celebrating the shortest day of the year, I find myself living the longest day.  December is always busy in our bistro. It's busy every where, but Friday seemed a little extreme.  At 4 O'clock our bistro was still full of lunch customers. Our first dinner guests sat down at the bar at 4:30.

My day usually begins at 11:30 when we switch on the open sign and unlock the front door.  (others on my crew start their day at 5am) But this last friday, by the time we opened we had already fed 25 ppl. We had a catered out a holiday luncheon to Concordia hospital.  Salmon with grilled vegetables, chicken and mushroom fusilli, fig and prosciutto sandwiches and a tray of Christmas dainties provided by Chocolate Zen Bakery (www.chocolatezen.com).

Lunch started promptly at 11:30 and by noon the restaurant was full.  We had a really great lunch special of cocoa chili fettucinni (nature's pasta) with chorizo and shrimp.  This sold like crazy, we went through an entire case of noodles!  In addition to the pasta we dished out a silly amount of mussels, chicken sandwiches and croque madames. By 1:15 the first of our large groups celebrating christmas parties was beginning to arrive. I quickly ran down stairs to place a wine order. Although I had received what I thought was more than enough wine the day before, we had run out  of a number of labels. (I would have to do yet another order the next day.) Soon, the bistro was filled again with long tables of merry revellers. Back on the line, me and Ruben slammed out one table of 10 after another.  In the background, my nighttime cooks were scurrying around like santa's elves, trying to stay out of my way, yet needing to be ready for dinner. 

At 4:30, as I am sitting down for a brief pause, Clint comes down to tell me "it's started."

"are you ready?"

"no"

"so", I reply grudgingly, "I guess you need me to do these orders?" So I found myself back on the line, clean jacket and apron, ready to go all over again.

The restaurant fills up quickly. We kick it into high gear and pop out a dizzying amount of food in what felt like record time. At 8:15, everyone is fed and we are waiting to clear the back half for the Christmas party that has already started to arrive.  With a momemtary pause in the barrage of orders coming in, I grab clint and ruben and my wife and we run across the street for a much deserved, and hastily quaffed, pint from Luxalune.

Then we are back into it. Appetizers and mussels for the big party, apps followed by dinners for the rest of the restaurant, salads and soups for the big party, more new tables up front, mains for the big party, a few more tables turn up front...

Clint looks at the clock, "it's 11:30". We laugh, I am geared up for one more turn, but sadly, the longest day is done.

Cocoa Chili Fettucinni with shrimp and chorizo.

1 lb cocoa chili fettucini from Natures' Farm (or any other fettucinni)

1 tbsp oil

1/2 lb peeled and deveined shrimp

2 chorizo sausages (or other hot sausage), sliced

1 onion diced

1 red pepper diced

1 clove garlic, crushed

a pinch (to taste) of dried chilies

1 cup chicken stock

1 cup heavy cream

salt and pepper to taste

1 tomato diced

1/2 cup grated sharp cheddar

1. boil pasta

2. saute onions and peppers in oil, add chorizo.

3. add shrimp, garlic and chilied and saute until shrimp is opaque.

4. add stock and bring to a boil

5. add cream, check for seasoning. Toss pasta in sauce. Toss in diced tomato. 

6. serve topped with grated cheddar

Enjoy!

Christmas Cocktails

Here are a couple of fun cocktails for the festive season. The first is based on a hot mulled wine we always have around christmas called glög. For those who don't like hot wine drinks, and I have discovered there are many, this is a chilled drink served in martini glass.

The second just looks like winter, all white and soft. Be very gentle with how much mint you use. It is really just there to give a wintery chill to the drink, use too much and your martini will taste like toothpaste. The trick to this drink is to really shake it vigourously, this will make it nice and frothy.

Have fun, e njoy!


Christmas Crantini

1 oz dry red wine
¾ oz vodka
¼ oz triple sec
2 oz cranberry juice
squeeze of orange

Shake with plenty of ice
garnish with an orange slice and cinnamon stick


White Christmas

1 oz Godiva white chocolate liqueur
1 oz vanilla vodka
1 oz cream
dash of crème de menthe or peppermint extract
white chocolate shavings

shake vigourously with ice. It will get nice and frothy
garnish with white chocolate

Here's another one...

remember the old song, "I'll have a blue christmas without you..."
When you sing it, do you put on your best Elvis voice, or do you always remember the porky pig version?

Blue Christmas

1 oz vanilla vodka
1/2 oz "mirtillo" blueberry liqueur
1/4 oz amaretto
1/4 oz Blue Curacao
2 oz blueberry cranberry juice

shake on ice, serve in a martini glass, garnish with frozen blueberries

I love the combination of blueberry and vanilla, and I love blueberry and amaretto. Here we have it all together!

Treasure of the Sierra Madres: Discovering Mexican Soups

The "true" story behind the mexican soup article that appeared in the fall issue of Flavours.



The article, too controversial to print.

Treasure of the Sierra Madres: Discovering Mexican Soups

11:58 the wheels of our plane bounce down onto the tarmac. We are welcomed by smiling men with automatic weapons. The P.A. system and bright yellow signs warn us of lengthy and awkward searches, but the officials look bored as they stamp our passports, asking no questions. Outside of the airport we are greeted with warm ocean breezes and palm trees. We are herded on to the bus which takes us to our hotel. We are in Mexico.

0n day three we find ourselves in a remote mountain village. We had rented a jeep and were on our way to tour an old mayan city. Somewhere, we took a wrong turn. As we went higher and higher into the mountains the road got rougher and rougher. The little donkeys at the side of the road laughed at our 4X4 struggling with the bumps and ruts. Couple times we got stuck, a couple times we nearly flipped and once we nearly drove of the edge of a cliff. At the end of the road we come upon a little village. Maybe village is too big a word. It was a few ramshackle huts pieced together with slabs of broken concrete, pieces of plywood, some assorted truck parts, heavy blankets, and sheets of corrugated tin. Somewhat surprisingly, in the centre of this circle of huts, was a little stone church. A few children ran around playing some incomprehensible game, some of the scrawniest chickens you have ever seen hunted frantically for bits of grain, a tired old three legged dog lay in the sun. As we stood there, wide eyed, a woman old enough to be Pancho Villa’s mother, stepped out of one of the huts. Without a word, she invited us to come in. She sat us down on old apple crates and served us big earthenware bowls of soup. It was a black bean soup as dark as the midnight sky. It was spicy and earthy. Little pieces of smoked meat we hoped were pork enriched the soup. As we ate we discovered layers of nuanced flavours. The tang from lime and vinegar, layers of spice from diverse chilies, cumin, black pepper, garlic, and the beans themselves: silky smooth with little pops of texture, Sweet and smoky, and woodsy. At first the beans served as a foil for the sharper flavours but by the end, they had taken centre stage. Without a word, this old woman’s soup had told us we were welcome, we would be cared for as long as we were there and we would find our way home. We returned to our hotel content.

On day five we were strolling the boardwalk, ducking the smiling and aggressive sales people offering us everything from $2 necklaces to timeshare condos. We came upon a little collection of huts and beach umbrellas which seemed to function as a crude food court. Each little stand posted a hand painted menu offering an almost identical selection of food items; Tacos al pastor, grilled marlin on sticks, octopus seviche. They were cooking up this food on little grills too small and rustic to enjoy the name hibatchi. We had our fill of tacos, garnished with onions and jalpenos; and the marlin, sweet and spicy and smoky; and the corn sprinkled with chili and lime and doused in crème fraîche. And then we noticed in the back, closer to the water another little umbrella.

As we approached, we noticed that the fabric on the umbrella was torn. The man seated beneath the umbrella was probably younger than I but his weathered skin made him look twice my age. Canadian politeness made me ignore the fact that he was sitting on a cart which looked like a child’s wagon with both of his legs amputated above the knees. In front of him he had a battered old cauldron of a soup pot, precariously balanced over an open fire. He spoke one word to us, “Pozole?”. We nodded an affirmation. He ladled out big Styrofoam bowls full of blazingly hot soup. The bowls were filled with big chunks of fish, still on the bone, crab legs, mussels, and fat red prawns. The broth tasted like the sea. But in this mess of delectable sea food, the highlight was the pieces of pozole. This dried, starchy corn, made tender by long slow cooking was at once earthy yet ethereal. This lowly corn imparted not only a feeling of comfort, but a sense of a connection the generations of people who have farmed and survived of this humble grain. All the way back to the hotel, we talked about this soup. We raved about the quality and abundance of the seafood, which we prairie folk are definitely not used to, but we kept coming back to the life affirming presence of the corn.

On our second last night, our hotel hosted a “Mexican fiesta”. Alex, my tocayo, and our favourite server told us we must come. “This is when we serve the real mexican food”. Alex saved us a table up front. We ate heartily, enjoyed traditional music and dance, and drank margaritas, cervezas, more margaritas, and more tequila. The next morning, I woke up a little green around the gills. I crept down to the dining room, holding on to my head to keep it from spinning, on a quest for coffee. My tocayo was there, with his usual broad smile, “you don’t look so good!” he laughed. He sat me down at a table in the shade and told me he had just the thing. He comes back a few minutes later, not with the mug of coffee I was looking for, but with a deep clay bowl filled with a dark red soup. Floating in the soup were little pieces of grey meat and bones from an animal I didn’t recognize. I delicately swirl the soup with my spoon only to discover long ribbons of tripe. The look of the tripe, and the overwhelming aroma made my already tenuous stomach churn. “It’s menudo… This will make you feel better… trust me” I did trust him, but maybe this was just too much. Gingerly, I took wee sip off my spoon. Almost immediately I felt the transformation. The warm spices started to clear my head. And the rich flavourful broth restored energy to my body. I could feel the tips of my fingers and toes start to tingle as life returned to them. I started off slow, but by the end, I was practically licking the bowl. One bowl of this strange and wonderful soup and I was a new man. I was ready to enjoy my last day in Mexico. And I started by ordering a margarita.

For recipes, go to www.flavoursmagazine.ca search recipes for black bean soup, menudo, or seafood pozoles

What is Winnipeg Food.

What is winnipeg food?

Recently I was reading the local paper and there was an article about a new cookbook, featuring a Canadian chef cooking Canadian cuisine.  The article mentioned the trouble the cookbook author has always faced in offering Canadian food. Is there such a thing, the article asks? 10 years ago, I would have shared his frustration.  But nowadays, there are so many chefs cooking what they would define as Canadian food.   This trend started years ago with restaurants like Canoe in toronto, River Cafe in Calgary and Sooke Harbour house on Vancouver island. Many of our greatest chefs, like Jamie Kennedy, Michael Staedtlander and Rob Feenie would describe their style as Canadian. Locally we have a number of restaurants serving food they define as either Canadian or Manitoba Regional cuisine.  Although defining Canadian cuisine remains as difficult as defining Canadian culture or Canadian identity, I don't believe there is anyone left who still wonders wether there is such a thing as Canadian cuisine.  Although difficult to define, we know it when we taste it.

Last week, I had a group in from Toronto. They came for dinner, then returned for lunch the next day. They enjoyed their meals very much, but when they were done, they asked me where they could get some real Winnipeg food. "What do you mean by Winnipeg food", their server politely asked.  "You know, perogies and goldeye." We sent them to Alycia's.  This brought back a recent memory of a call I got from a writer for National Geographic Traveller.  She wanted to interview me about the food scene in Winnipeg and about my bistro specifically. I agreed to the interview, but when she called me up she said, "I really only have two questions for you: Do you serve pickerel? Do you serve bison?"

Why does winnipeg food have to be so narrowly defined?  We are more than just Perogies and goldeye. We are more than pickerel and bison.  We are an incredibly multicultural city, with restaurants representing nations around the world. Is Winnipeg cuisine french canadian or metis? Is Winnipeg cuisine ukrainian? Is Winnipeg cuisine german, italian or icelandic? Is it Askenazi? Is it Vietnamese? Chinese? Phillipino? Is it aboriginal? Is it old? Is it new? Casual? Fine dining?  The answer to all these questions is yes!  Winnipeg cuisine is all these things and more. Would you ever go to Toronto and ask "Where can I go to get the real Toronto cooking?"

My wife and I own a funky little french bistro. We were born and raised in Winnipeg. Is our restaurant winnipeg cuisine? You bet your smoked goldeye it is.

Recipe:

World's Easiest Smoked Goldeye Mousse

meat from 2 smoked goldeye, be careful to remove all the bones

1 cup cream cheese (winnipeg style?)

pinch of cayenne

(variation: add 1 tbsp horseradish)

in a food processor, puree goldeye, cream cheese and cayenne until smooth.

serve with crackers and a garnish of capers, cornichons and red onion.

Firing Up Your Sweet Tooth

This article appeared in Summer 2008 issue of Flavours Magazine.


The main goal of summertime cookery is to get out of the kitchen as quickly and as often as you can. From June to September, the stove should be used as little as possible and if it is used, only for extra storage space.

Apart from tossing together a few salads and slathering some marinades (bottled or otherwise) onto hunks of meat, all the cooking should happen outdoors. The barbecue, whether it is a 4-foot stainless steel Cadillac or a teeny charcoal hibachi, is your best friend under the sunshine.

So, we have all figured out how to cook the perfect steak. We have aced salmon fillets, chops and chicken breasts. A few of us have even ventured into lamb legs and butterflied whole chickens. We have our favourite rubs, marinades and sauces. We even have the sides figured out with our foil wrapped potatoes and our grilled veggies. But what about dessert?

The most obvious summer dessert is ice cream. You can even make “adult sundaes” by drizzling a little liqueur on your crème glacée. But chef, what else is there?

Well, let me tell you. First of all, look to one of your camp favourites—s’mores of course. It’s time to improve that basic with banana, more chocolate and handfuls of marshmallows all tossed into a cast-iron pan and wrapped in aluminum foil. But for something a little more elegant, look to fruit. Grilled pineapple is a personal favourite. The grilling brings out the sweetness and adds a caramelized nuttiness to the fruit. Peel and cut into thick slices, brush with a little oil and grill on both sides until you have nice charred grill marks. Another fun barbecue dessert is a fruit kebab. Cut any firm fruit into cubes then toss in a marinade of honey, ginger, mint, citrus zest and a little oil or melted butter. Skewer the cubes, alternating fruit, and then grill.

Be warned, the fruit will get soft as it cooks, so remove skewers from the grill before they are in danger of falling off. Serve the fruit with a sweetened yogurt dip or melted chocolate.

If you are feeling really adventurous, try baking your favourite cake or pie on the grill. You’ll need a barbecue big enough to sit a cake pan on one side without any direct heat underneath. Then, light the opposite side and as soon as you close the lid, you have transformed your ‘cue into a convection oven (the dry heat makes great pie crusts). For best results, use a shallow cake pan or bundt pan to ensure the cake cooks through. Also be sure to rotate your cake a quarter turn every 15 minutes to ensure even baking.

But what if you want to go even further and make fancy desserts?

To do so, we’ll need to break it down into parts. First, grill some peaches and then a piece of puff pastry. Marry the two with a sticky sweet caramel sauce and suddenly you’ve got a mock tart tatin. Or try roasting some apples and then using them in an apple wood smoked crème brulée.

So while steak might be your first thought when it comes to cooking outdoors, try grilling a dessert instead.

Apple Wood Smoked Creme Brulee

Ingredients

• 1 Granny Smith apple
• 1 wedge of lemon
• 2 cups (500 mL) whipping cream
• 1/2 vanilla bean, split (or 1 tsp pure vanilla extract)
• 1/2 cup (125 mL) sugar plus 4 tsp (20 mL) for caramelizing
• 5 large egg yolks
• 2 tbsp (30 mL) brown sugar
• 1/2 tsp (2 mL) cinnamon
• 1 cup (250 mL) apple wood chips

Directions

Heat one side of the barbecue, leaving the other side cool. Soak wood chips in water for 30 minutes, then drain before you start. Cut apples in half and remove the cores. Rub with lemon and place cut side down on barbecue. Grill until nicely caramelized. Flip apples over to lightly char the skin. While the apples are grilling, combine cream, vanilla and sugar in a small pot and place on grill (or side burner) and scald the cream. Remove the vanilla bean and scrape seeds into cream. In a bowl, gently whisk egg yolks, then slowly pour hot cream into eggs, mixing well. Remove apples from grill and coarsely chop. Toss apples with brown sugar and cinnamon. Spoon apple mixture equally into 4, 4 oz (125 g) ramekins and fill each one with cream mixture. Place ramekins in a 9” x 9” (23 cm x 23 cm) metal baking dish and fill 3/4 full of water.

Wrap wood chips in aluminum foil and place on hot side of barbecue. Close the lid and wait until they begin to smoke. Place pan on the cool side of the barbecue and bake for 30 to 40 minutes. They should be just set and a little jiggly in the middle. Do not over cook as they will continue to set when they cool. Remove from heat and place in the fridge to cool for at least one hour.

When ready to serve, sprinkle each one with a little sugar, and using a blowtorch, caramelize the sugar.

Serves 4

Grilled Peach Gallets

Ingredients

• 8 ripe peaches (or nectarines)
• 1 cup (250 mL) orange juice
• 1 cup (250 mL) golden brown sugar
• 1 oz (30 mL) brandy or Grand Marnier
• 1 tsp (5 mL) vanilla
• 1 package puff pastry
• 2 tbsp (30 mL) butter, melted

Directions

Cut peaches in half and remove the pits. Combine orange juice, sugar, brandy and vanilla. Add peaches to mixture and let marinate for a couple of hours (or overnight). Roll pastry out to 1/4” (5 mm) thickness and cut into 6” (15 cm) rounds. Dock pastry with a fork and brush both sides with butter. Clean and oil grill. Grill rounds of pastry over moderate heat. Flip when first side is golden brown and has formed a nice crust. Don’t worry if the edges burn a little, that’s all part of the flavour. Remove peaches from marinade. Pour the marinade into a small pot and place on the grill or side burner. You want to bring this to a boil and then reduce it to sticky syrup. Grill the peaches, cut side down, until caramelized and soft. Arrange peaches on pastry rounds. Smother in sticky sauce and enjoy.

Serves 4

Campfire Cast Iron Chocolate Banana Rocky Road Brownie

Ingredients

• Brownie

  • 1/2 cup (125 g) butter
  • 8 oz (250 g) bittersweet chocolate, chopped
  • 3/4 cup (175 mL) sugar
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 tsp (5 mL) vanilla
  • 1 cup (250 mL) flour
  • 1/2 tsp (2 mL) salt

• Bananas

  • 2 bananas
  • 1/4 cup (60 mL) butter
  • 1/4 cup (60 mL) brown sugar

• Toppings

  • 1/2 cup (125 mL) walnuts
  • 1 cup (250 mL) mini marshmallows
  • 1 cup (250 mL) chocolate chips

Directions

Brownie:
In a small saucepan set on a heated barbecue, combine butter, chocolate and sugar and cook until melted. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature. Add eggs, one at a time, to chocolate mixture, beating after each addition. Stir in vanilla. Add flour and salt; mix to combine.

Bananas:
Melt butter in a 9” (23 cm) cast iron pan over grill. Fry bananas until they start to brown. Add sugar and cook, stirring gently to dissolve, until sugar caramelizes. Remove pan from heat.

TO ASSEMBLE:
Drop brownie batter by spoonfuls in among the bananas. Sprinkle brownie with nuts, marshmallows and chocolate chips. Return to heat and cook over low heat with the lid closed until brownie is cooked. It should be firm, but the bananas, chocolate and marshmallows will ensure it
stays gooey.

Serves 4

Alex Has Spring Fever

This article appeared in the Spring 2008 (Vol. 5, Issue 2) issue of Flavours Magazine.

The tulips are in full bloom. Fresh asparagus fills the market stalls, fiddleheads are foraged down by the river, and the babbas are bringing in pails of morels. Every cooking magazine is featuring fresh spring market produce. But most of these come from our southern neighbors, and, unfortunately, on the Canadian prairies, we are still under a thick blanket of snow. The image of spring and the frosty reality rarely connect.

Spring is a difficult time for cooks in Manitoba. Everyone is craving fresh spring flavours. By mid-March we are sick of the soups and stews, the long braised meats and the hearty casseroles of the winter months; we want fresh, light and bright. We are sick of earthy potatoes and sturdy roots; we want newly sprouted light green things.

It seems that the prairie cook is left with only two options. You can break down and buy the California produce, pretending it is really spring, or you can resist the temptation of spring produce until your farmer friend a mile down the road brings you the first bag of fresh cut asparagus from his garden. This is an issue for me, as a restaurateur, because my customers want a spring menu, but they also appreciate it when I buy local. What’s a chef to do?

Reinterpret the ideas of fresh and bright.

Think of fresh not as freshly sprouted from the ground, but freshly sprouted from your mind. Reinterpret “fresh” to mean new ideas. Try cooking something you have never done before. Never cooked Thai before? Try it. Put a new spin on a family favorite. Go to the supermarket and find ingredients you have never used. Why not try your hand at molecular gastronomy. Grab some agar and make basil caviar, turn a sauce into foam, paint your plates. Deconstruct something. Challenge yourself to prepare something you have never done before.

Find your bright flavours in fruits you will never be able to source locally. I am thinking mostly of citrus flavours and tropical fruits. Nothing awakens a tired palate like a burst of citrus zest. Try combining grapefruit with ginger or fennel; lime with cumin and chilies; lemon with mint and cardamom or orange with coriander. Mangoes, papayas, and passion fruit are all great this time of year. Pair them with some zippy chilies and fresh ginger. After the months of stodgy starches the tang of a perfectly ripe mango or the crunch of a green papaya will warm you up like a Chinook blowing in from the mountains. Bright, acidic citrus will thaw the frost on your palate the way the warm April sun melts the snow on the roof. Tropical and citrus flavours provide the zip you need without spoiling the excitement of the first crop of fresh local greens.

Don’t worry. The snow will melt, the grass will grow again. Soon asparagus, green peas, chive and tarragon, baby lettuces, spinach and those crunchy radishes will return. These things are worth the wait. You will appreciate the really good stuff more if you just hang in there.

Baked Halibut with Fennel and Grapefruit

4, 6 oz halibut fillets
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp fennel seed, toasted and lightly crushed
Pinch of chiles
1 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp olive oil, divided
1 fennel bulb, stems removed and thickly sliced
1 red grapefruit, peeled and cut into segments
1 tsp grated ginger
1 tbsp chopped mint
1 tbsp lemon juice

1. Preheat oven to 450 F.
2. Combine paprika, salt, fennel seed, chiles and brown sugar; mix well.
3. Brush halibut with 1 tbsp of oil and dust with spice mixture.
4. Combine fennel with grapefruit, ginger, mint, lemon juice and remaining olive oil (if grapefruit is particularly tart, add a little white sugar or honey).
5. Top each piece of halibut with the fennel-grapefruit mixture and bake in oven for about 10 minutes, or until fish flakes easily with a fork.

Serves 4.


Mango Chicken Skewers with Green Papaya Slaw

4 boneless chicken breasts, cut into bite-size cubes
1 mango, peeled, seeded and cut into cubes
1 red onion, cut into large pieces

Marinade:
Juice and zest of one lime
1/4 cup coconut milk
1 tbsp grated ginger
1 clove minced garlic
1 tsp curry powder
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

1. Combine marinade ingredients in a bowl and mix well.
2. Add chicken to marinade, cover and refrigerate for a few hours or overnight.
3. Skewer chicken, alternating with mango and red onion.
4. Grill or roast in 450 F oven until chicken is cooked.
5. Serve with Green Papaya Slaw.
   

Green Papaya Slaw:
1 green papaya (save seeds to decorate the plate)
1 English cucumber
1 Serrano chile, cut into short, paper-thin strips
1/4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro
Juice and zest of one lime
1/4 cup coconut milk

1. Peel papaya and remove seeds.
2. Grate papaya and cucumber on the largest blade of your box grater, or on the julienne blade of your mandolin.
3. Combine with chiles, cilantro, lime and coconut milk.

Serves 4.

Gingerbread Cheesecake with Dried Fruit Compote

A fun twist on classic holiday flavours...

Crust:
1-1 lb pkg ginger snap cookies (approx 30 cookies)
¼ cup butter

1. Crush cookies in food processor.
2. Melt butter, mix into cookie crumbs
3. Line 10 inch spring form with parchment, leave a 2 inch collar above the sides of the pan (you will need this height)
4. Press gingersnap crumbs into bottom of pan. Bake at 350 for 10 minutes. cool.

Cheesecake
1 ½ kg cream cheese
8 eggs
2 cups sour cream
1 cup brown sugar
1 tsp powdered ginger
½ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp cloves
Pinch of nutmeg
1 tsp vanilla

1. Whip cream cheese in mixer until smooth
2. Add eggs, two at a time, and whip until combined
3. Add sour cream, brown sugar, spices and vanilla. whip until well combined
4. Pour filling into prepared pan. Bake at 325 F for 1 hour or until cheesecake is firm but still jiggly. cool to room temperature on the counter, then chill.

Dried Fruit Compote
2 cups mixed dried fruit (apricots, raisins, prunes, cranberries, cherries etc.)
1 cup sugar
½ cup water
Zest and juice from one orange
1 tbs grated or slivered fresh ginger
1 oz Grand Marnier or rum

1. Bring water and sugar to a rapid boil.
2. Add dried fruit, orange and ginger. Simmer until liquid is absorbed and fruit is soft.
3. Add Grand Marnier or rum.