When I was a kid, my mom and I had a ritual. If we ever found ourselves alone for dinner, we’d pop over to our neighborhood Chinese joint. The order was always the same: A plate of Shanghai noodles to split and two orders of wonton soup. It wasn’t a common occurrence because I come from a family of 5. But even if my mom and I only split those noodles 4 or 5 times, those moments had a big impact on me. So much so that to this day, I get a warm and fuzzy feeling every time I see wonton soup on a menu. And that feeling was what I had in mind when I whipped up today’s Scallop Wonton Soup.
It’s been a rough week. I don’t care who you are, the first week of September is generally a bummer. The return to routine after months of BBQ, bonfires and pool parties is a touch, um, unpalatable. How can the daily office grind and mountains of homework compete with non-existant bedtimes and second helpings of s’mores? How?! And while it is true that I’ve sidestepped this shared week of suffering by slipping off to Nova Scotia, I am well-acquainted with the September blues. That’s why I offer you these Chorizo Chilaquiles because I imagine you need them. The weekend you thought would never get here is here and you definitely need brunch.
Some of my earliest memories are centered around meat and potatoes. Every Sunday my family would pile into the car and head over to my grandmother’s house for dinner. Without fail she’d always serve a roast alongside a mountain of mashed potatoes. My sister was a roast beef kind of girl, but I was in it for the roast pork. I loved that roast pork not because it was brined or smoked to rosy pink perfection. My grandmother wasn’t that kind of cook. She grew up on a farm, fussing was not in her DNA. No, what I loved about her roast pork was the applesauce that accompanied it. It was one of the first times fruit and meat crossed paths on my dinner plate and it was certainly not the last. Today’s Apricot Stuffed Pork Chops are just another by-product of a food obsession hatched in my formative years.
When I first arrived in Toronto at the tender age of 20, I had a crap, overpriced apartment, a crap retail job and, shockingly, not a crap ton of money. Yes, I was living that penniless student cliche in the worst way and that meant living off of boxes of knock-off cereal (generic Fruit Os forever!) and sodium-laced noodles. But once in a blue moon, usually on a Friday, I would treat my broke ass to a schnitzel sandwich and a beer at The Red Room. Today’s Pork Schnitzel Sandwiches with Granny Smith Slaw are a homage to the sandwich.