Dinner From Inspiration to the Plate (DaLocalChef)

You never know where the idea for a dish will come from. A whiff of brandy and duck fat from the foie gras at the next table. The jewel-like sheen on a mound of salmon caviar. The ginger-tinged memory of a grandmother's special molasses cookies. Inspiration can be found anywhere, if you let it.

For this meal, the inspiration was....a casserole dish.


Ever since my days at the Cordon Bleu, I have loved enamelled cast iron casseroles. You know the ones. Heavy, solid, strong. Just picking them up brings to mind the wonderful dishes they are so perfect for. Coq au vin. Beef bourgignon. Dishes that speak of warmth, of comfort and of home. A few weeks ago, I bought a beautiful one. 5 quart. Deep garnet red. I brought it home. I washed it. I placed it on a shelf, where I saw it every day. But I didn't use it. The time may not have been right. Maybe I just didn't have the right ingredients. Perhaps I just wasn't ready. But when its beautiful colour caught my eye this morning, I knew it was time. I looked through my freezer, fridges and cupboards and the dish began to take shape in my head.


Turkey sausages from the freezer. Flavourful, while still being low in fat. (Even inspiration can have some practicality!) A can of chick peas from the pantry. Onions and garlic from their wooden cabinet. A trip to the store brought peppers, zucchini and eggplant. Bay leaves and the last of the summer's basil, nearly forgotten, tucked away in the back of the freezer. And of course, a bottle of Italian red. Well, half a bottle at least. Just enough for both pot and cook to get their due.

With all the instruments assembled, it was time for the music to begin. A slow browning of the sausages, then to be removed as the vegetables took their turn. But not the garlic of course. Not yet. As the juices began to flow and the onions started to caramelize the garlic joined in. Just a brief moment, until that beautiful odour began to fill the room. Then a flood of crimson wine, dousing the garlic and at once raising it to another more intense level. As the wine reduced, the chick peas tumbled over themselves into the dish. The sausages returned, along with stewed tomatoes, the bay leaves and basil. The satisfying weight of the lid covered all and for the next two hours the oven held all within its loving heart.

In that time, all was transformed. The vegetables melted into sweet richness. The sausages played give and take, spreading their meaty goodness while being infused with the accents of wine and herbs. Chick peas lapped up all the flavours, becoming butter-soft pearls. The aroma was of all those ingredients and at the same time of something else. Just as separate instruments come together to change sound into music, so too did all the components produce a scent that was, at once of them, and yet beyond them as well. A dusting of grated parmesan to finish and it was done.

A frame of simple buttered pasta. Nothing more to say.