Food
The chicken marsala.
There was one dish on the menu that took on a life of its own.
The chicken marsala.
I had family who would drive in from out of town just to have it. Not for an event, not for a night out, just for that dish. And when we moved from Toronto to Ottawa, it didn’t stop. People made the trip. Eight or nine times that I can remember, customers came all the way from Toronto just to sit down, say hello, and have the chicken marsala the way I made it.
That stays with you.
It became a point of pride. And if I’m being honest, it was one of my guilty pleasures too. I just loved it. I always felt like I got that one right.
People used to ask me what my favourite dish on the menu was, and I’d give them the same answer every time. I’d say all my children are equal; I love them all the same. But then I’d smile and admit I had a soft spot for the chicken marsala.
It had everything.
A bit of veg. Tender chicken. And the sauce, that rich, slightly sweet marsala sauce, built properly, with mushrooms. I always used a mix when I could, but cremini and porcini were usually the best. They gave it depth. That earthy backbone that made the whole dish feel complete.
And on the side, homemade pasta.
It was the whole story of what we did at the restaurant, all on one plate.
So here it is.
The Chicken Marsala : Music to cook by.
The Way I Made It
Start with the chicken
Take your chicken breast and slice it down the centre so you end up with two thinner halves.
Lay them out on cling wrap, cover them, and gently beat them down until they’re even all the way across. You’re not trying to destroy it, just flatten it.
This isn’t just about tenderness. It’s about cooking it evenly. Same thickness, same cook time, no guesswork.
Flour, nothing else
Just flour.
No egg wash, no breadcrumbs. That’s a different dish.
Lightly dredge the chicken and shake off the excess. You want a dusting, not a coating.
Into the pan
Medium-high heat. Olive oil, just enough to coat the bottom.
Let it get hot before the chicken goes in.
You’re not cooking it through here. You’re searing it. Less than a minute per side. You want colour, and you want that fond building on the bottom of the pan.
That’s where your flavour starts.
Take the chicken out and set it aside.
The mushrooms
I always used a mix when I could, but cremini and porcini were the best.
Cook them separately if you can. Butter in a pan, medium heat. Let them cook properly. Let them release and brown.
Once they’re ready, they go into the main pan.
The sauce
Heat goes up.
In goes the marsala wine.
It’s going to flare a bit, and that’s fine.
Be generous. Roughly half a cup to three-quarters of a cup. I wasn’t shy with it.
Let it reduce by about half.
Then add your chicken stock. Use a good one.
Put the chicken back in, along with the mushrooms.
Let it cook down until the sauce thickens to where you want it. The flour from the chicken will help that along.
Finish
Turn the heat down first.
Then add a knob of butter and a small splash of cream.
Not too much. You’re rounding it out, not turning it into something else.
If the pan’s too hot, it’ll split. So let it calm down first.
Serve
I used to plate this with homemade pasta.
Simple. Olive oil, a touch of butter or cream, Parmigiano Reggiano. That’s it.
Usually with a side of sautéed rapini with lemon and butter.
But honestly, this stands on its own.
This was one of those dishes that became more than just something on the menu.
People came back for it.
They drove for it.
And I get why.
There was a dessert on our menu that went back a long way.
My earliest memories of it were at my aunt Ella’s house, my mother’s sister. That’s where I had it first, and that’s where it lived, at least in my mind.
Everyone called it a blueberry cheesecake.
It wasn’t really a cheesecake.
It was more like a tart. Flaky crust, baked in the oven, filled with blueberries and sour cream, all of it going in together. The sour cream wasn’t something you added after. It baked right in with the fruit and set as it cooked, giving it that slightly tangy, almost custard-like layer that held everything together.
Required listening: The Cheesecake Song.
It had its own thing going on. Not too sweet. A little sharp. Different.
And every time we had family gatherings, it showed up.
So when I put it on the menu at the supper club, I didn’t overthink it. I called it Ella’s cheesecake.
That made sense to me.
Then my mother saw the menu.
And I get the call.
“What are you doing?”
I knew right away.
“This is my recipe.”
She’s laughing, but not really. You know that tone. There’s humour in it, but there’s also a point being made.
I said, “Mom, I remember having it at Ella’s. That’s where it came from for me.”
And she says, “Yes, because I made it for her. I used to make it all the time. Then I stopped, and she kept making it. So it became hers. But it came from me.”
Now we’re getting into family history.
So I did what you do. I said, “Okay, okay, okay.”
Because at the end of the day, you don’t win that argument. And more importantly, you don’t want to.
So the name changed.
It went from Ella’s cheesecake to Nina and Ella’s family cheesecake.
That felt right.
It kept the memory of where I experienced it, and it respected where it came from.
And honestly, that’s what this dessert always was.
Not just something you ate.
Something that got passed around, shared, slightly reassigned over time, until it belonged to everyone.
The Recipe
Before you start
Preheat your oven to 350°F.
Use a round springform pan and butter it generously.
The base
- 1½ cups flour
- ½ cup white sugar
- ½ cup butter, room temperature
- 1½ teaspoons baking powder
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
Mix everything together until it’s crumbly.
Press it into the bottom of the pan to form an even crust.
The blueberries
Add 1 to 2 packages of frozen blueberries directly over the crust.
No need to thaw them.
The sour cream layer
In another bowl, mix:
- 2 cups sour cream
- 2 egg yolks
- ½ cup white sugar
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
Mix until smooth, then pour it over the blueberries.
This is what makes it. The sour cream bakes right into the fruit and sets in the oven. It’s not a topping, it becomes part of the cake.
Bake
Bake at 350°F for about 1 hour.
Let it cool before slicing. It needs time to set.
Call it blueberry cheesecake if you want.
It never really was.
Food
Food
My food, my kitchen, my dinner & nightclub. Good times.
























Food
The Hot Sauce I Put on Practically Everything
When summer shows up, my cooking changes.
Once the sun starts beating down and the evenings stretch longer, I spend a lot more time outside. I’ll fire up the barbecue, bring a plate upstairs, and sit out on the rooftop patio while the sun is still warm on the table.
That’s when this hot sauce usually makes an appearance.
I make a batch of pineapple habanero hot sauce every summer and keep it in the fridge. Once it’s there, it starts showing up on just about everything that comes off the grill. Chicken, shrimp, grilled vegetables, tacos, even the occasional burger. If it comes off the barbecue, chances are a few drops of this end up on it.
It’s sweet from the pineapple, bright from the lime, and then the habanero comes in and reminds you who’s in charge.
And the best part is it takes almost no time to make.

Pineapple Habanero Hot Sauce
Prep time: 5 minutes
Cook time: about 10 minutes
Total time: 15 minutes
Makes: about 2 cups
Ingredients
- 2–3 habanero peppers
- ½ ripe pineapple
- ½ onion
- 1 cup water
- ⅔ cup white vinegar
- Juice of 1 lime
- 8 slices fresh ginger (about a ½-inch piece)
- 2 teaspoons sugar
- 1¼ teaspoons salt
- ¼ teaspoon dried marjoram
- ⅛ teaspoon ground cumin
Instructions
Start by slicing the pineapple, onion, ginger, and the habaneros. If you want to tame the heat a little, remove the seeds and the white pith from the peppers.
In a saucepan, add the onion, pineapple, habaneros, ginger, and the cup of water. Bring it to a gentle simmer and let it cook for a couple of minutes until everything starts to soften.
Add the sugar and salt, then keep simmering until the onions and peppers are tender, usually another five to ten minutes.
Transfer everything to a blender. Add the vinegar, lime juice, marjoram, and cumin.
Blend until smooth.
Let it cool, taste it, and adjust the seasoning if you want a little more salt or sugar.
Then pour it into hot sauce bottles or a mason jar and keep it in the fridge.
A Couple Notes
If you want the sauce milder, remove the seeds and pith from the habaneros before cooking.
A small funnel helps if you’re filling bottles, but a jar works perfectly.
If you don’t have marjoram, oregano works just fine.
A Few Questions That Always Come Up
How long does it last in the fridge?
A few weeks easily. The vinegar helps preserve it.
Can I use a different vinegar?
Yes. Apple cider vinegar works well and adds a slightly deeper flavor.
What if I don’t have marjoram?
Just substitute oregano or leave it out entirely.
Most summer evenings, when the barbecue’s still warm and the sun is hitting the rooftop patio, this bottle is sitting somewhere on the table.
A couple drops and suddenly whatever came off the grill wakes right up.
Sweet pineapple first.
Then the heat.
After that, it’s hard not to reach for it again on the next bite.
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