Shore Darcy - Home and away: simple, delicious recipes inspired by the worlds bistros, cafés and diners

The author and publisher disclaim any liability in connection with the use of this information. For more information, contact the publisher. Note for our UK readers: measurements for non-liquids are for volume, not weight. Design by Oliver McPartlin Interior and cover food photographs by Tracey Kusiewicz/Foodie Photography Photographs on pages 18, 38, 82, 97, 112, 143, 151, 154, 162, and 174 supplied by the chefs. Edited by Susan Safyan Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication: Shore, Darcy, 1965-, author Home and away: simple, delicious recipes inspired by the world's bistros, cafs and diners / Darcy & Randy Shore. Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-55152-674-4 (ebook) 1. International cooking. 2. Cooking. 3. I. I.

Shore, Randy, 1963-, author II. Title.

But I ate well. You have to keep your eyes open for those little corner restaurants, hole-in-the-wall dives packed with locals eating the specialty of the house. Sometimes they are a little dingy, though not always. Often they have poor signage or none at all. I recall the moment my palate and my life changed forever. I was standing shoulder to shoulder with the morning rush in a tiny noodle shop on a side street in Seoul, Korea.

The temperature was well below freezing, and condensation was running freely down the windows, fed continuously by huge steaming pots of broth. The floor was a deep, muddy puddle, and the serving counter was littered with slopped soup and stray noodles. The menu was entirely in Korean, a sure sign that I was not supposed to be there. I muscled my way to the counter and pointed at the bowl being noisily consumed by the man next to me. What I got back was a steaming bowl of delicious broth and chewy noodles with a raw egg cracked on top. No one had ever tried to feed me a raw egg before, and the look of horror on my face must have been apparent to the noodle man, who told me with mute gestures to stir the egg in slowly.

As I followed his instruction, a new kind of noodle was created, a tender, very rustic mix of egg white and yolk. I knew at the moment that I was in a magical place, not so much geographically as emotionally. Travel rule no. 1: Try everything, because you never know. My traveling partner Simon and I soon found ourselves at another dingy diner, this time on the edge of a huge parking lot near a major tourist attraction. Minutes after our jerky ordering pantomime, a huge iron dish arrived at the table full to the brim with pieces of raw baby octopus, calamari, blocks of tofu, fiery kimchi, broth, and a generous dollop of chili flakes.

Our server lit a gas ring under the pot, handed us our chopsticks, and disappeared. When he returned, the cauldron was bubbling furiously. As his final gesture, he dropped a load of fat noodles into the pot. We dove in, stuffing this miraculous and seemingly random collection of ingredients into our mouths as fast as humanly possible. In spite of the bitter cold, we were soon wiping the sweat from our faces and necks while issuing grunts of pure pleasure. Every trip since has been a quest for authenticity.

On a recent visit to Turkey, my wife Darcy and I ensconced ourselves in a local hotel sandwiched between an acreage of wholesalers and Istanbuls old fishing port, a brisk walk from the citys main attractions. Around nine p.m., we could see a large knot of laborers forming down the blockthe lineup for a local cafeteria. We joined a fast-moving queue and arrived with shocking efficiency at the cash register. Our tray was loaded with half a roasted chicken, fried fish, green salad, beans in a delicious sauce, bulgur pilaf, and freshly baked bread for about the price of a fast-food combo for one. Travel rule no. 2: Follow the hardhats.

They know where to eat. One balmy night, we found ourselves at a lovely outdoor restaurant in the resort town of Kusadasi, a place popular with both Turks and foreign tourists. We examined the menu and were disappointed to find it filled with burgers and pizza. However, the moment we made a move to find someplace better, our server appeared wondering if we wouldnt prefer to see the Turkish menu. Of course we did. Our meal was excellent.

Recipes for the Turkish flatbread known as Lahmacun, Urfa Kebabs, and vibrant Choban Salad are all detailed in these pages. In holiday towns, restaurants often have two menus, one for tourists and another for their local clients. Travel rule no. 3: Ask what the locals eat. Looking back now, nearly every day on the road presented an opportunity to discover a local secret, learn how to consider food in a new way, and indulge in the visceral pleasure of eating. And as the world shrinks, you dont have to go nearly as far to find great home-style food from the old country, whatever country that might be.

Waves of immigrants from every corner of the globe carry their food traditions with them wherever they go. Little places, mom-and-pop shops, serve their compatriots and neighbors cheek-by-jowl in the low-rent neighborhoods of nearly every major city on the planet. The chefs and gifted cooks interviewed for these pages are unanimous in their deep nostalgia for neighborhood diners and the tasty, unpretentious food they serve. And they are as fond of Chinese-American chow mein, burgers, and grilled-cheese sandwiches as they are of the authentic and exotic. Moroccan tagine, Asian noodles in soup, Turkish kebabs, smoky Tuscan-style tomato sauce with pasta, British venison stew, American pulled porkthey are all simple and delicious. Food is a thread that links us all to the past, to our homes and our ancestors.