Use the words " Canadian" and "cuisine" in the same sentence, and many people are inclined to snicker, if not laugh outright.

Like the ongoing struggle to define Canadian culture, Canadian cuisine has yet to find its voice. The one point of national unity is that Canada is too young and too large to have a definitive cuisine. The result is pockets of regionalism, defined by available produce and products as well as the origins of the inhabitants.

Chefs and restaurateurs are divided in how they come up with a foodstyle that defines the region. Some chefs call on the cooking of their grandmothers; others invoke the creative chef's approach, freefalling into a contemporary vision of flavours and textures based on traditional ingredients.

Home cooks too veer between experimenting with modern fusion food and coming home to classics handed down in old books stained with butter and the passage of time. Such recipes assume a reasonable ability on the part of the cook. Measurements are vague, and cooking times specify "cook until done", leaving an inexperienced cook wondering just what "done" should look ike! A turn-of-the-century Five Roses prairie cookbook gives this succinct advice: "The oven is right when the hand can be held in from 35 to 45 seconds." Ouch.

Not surprisingly, Pierre Burton, longtime nationalist, raconteur and author, draws a direct link between the food served on the transcontinental railways and an emerging Canadian cuisine. In Pierre and Janet Burton's Canadian Food Guide (McClelland and Stewart, 1966), Burton raves about grilled Calgary sirloins, succulent goldeye, juicy lakefish, Oka and cheddar cheeses, and berry pies...decidedly Canadian fare, all served in Canadian railway dining cars of the past.

To most of us, Prairie cowboy cuisine is a seasonal aberration--flapjacks in a parking lot, beef on a bun beside a mess of beans.

The authentic style of cooking that gave rise to our annual Stampede bashes was the domain of the ranch cook. Invariably a man, this hardworking guy was the undisputed boss of the cookhouse; he worked long hours, was up before the hands, and was often the last to bed after tending his sourdough starter for next day's breakfast. The cows and chickens that provided milk and eggs were his responsibility, as was the vegetable garden some ranches were fortunate to have.

Camp cooks had a reputation for crankiness, no doubt the result of long hours and hot, hard work. Scratch the surface of a modern-day cook in a hot professional kitchen, and the cranky camp cook might appear, cuss words and all.

Cowboy cooking is one of the cornerstones underlying modern Western cuisine.

Clear flavours based on indigenous ingredients show up unexpectedly in sophisticated places. James Beard House in New York, bastion of regional American cooking, was the site for a "Heart of the Canadian Rockies" dinner orchestrated in January 1997 by chef Hubert Aumeier and his team from Buffalo Mountain Lodge in the Canadian Rockies. The humble vegetable served to worldly New York diners: turnips!

Other simple ingredients from the cowboy kitchen have made their way into regular usage. Sourdough starter, the reliable leavening in early kitchens and gold rush camps without regular access to yeast, has graduated to star status at many bakeries, its robust flavour a perfect antidote to mild white breads. The trick to sourdough is time: the slower the process, the more flavour the sourdough develops.

Fried steak, pounded and floured by old-time ranch cooks, is called "chicken fried steak" in other regions of North America that have acknowledged their culinary roots. These days, grilled steak is more common, but a braised variation makes the most of a less expensive, flavourful cut of meat.

The truth is that our mainly immigrant cuisine is as clearly defined as our mainly immigrant culture. Less than two hundred years of nationhood does imply a certain... jeunesse. Eh? Next year when you hang out in a parking lot for a Stampede breakfast, tip your Smithbilt to the old-time ranch cooks who had a hand in starting it all. Best to not actually give him your hat. He'd use it to measure water, or worse.

Rutabaga Gratin with Goat Cheese
Courtesy of Hubert Aumeier, formerly of Canadian Rocky Mountain Resorts, and currently a partner at Valbella Meats in Canmore, home of fabulous sausages.

Use a 2 mm blade on your food processor, a sharp knife or a mandoline to slice the turnips as thinly as you can. Serves 4-6 as a side dish

2-3 small yellow turnips (rutabaga)
4 oz. (125 ml) goat cheese
2 Tbsp. (30 ml) finely diced red bell pepper
salt and pepper to taste

Peel, halve and thinly slice the turnips. Sauté‚ them in a nonstick pan over medium-high heat without any oil until the slices are tender and brown, 10-15 minutes. Toss with the red pepper dice and half the crumbled goat cheese. Pack into a 9x9" (22x22 cm) gratin dish, season with salt and pepper and top with the remaining cheese. Bake at 375°F (190°C) until browned, about 20-30 minutes. Serve hot.

Sourdough Braided Bread
We called sourdough starter "Herman" when I was growing up-- it does develop a personality of its own after a while. Use starter in pancakes as well as in breads. You can make bread using just starter as leavening, but a lighter, less gummy loaf results with the addition of yeast.

Makes 1 large loaf

Starter:
1 tsp. (5 ml) yeast
1 tsp. (5 ml) sugar
2 cups (500 ml) flour
2 cups (500 ml) warm water

Stir the ingredients well, cover and let stand on the counter for 3 days before using, stirring frequently. After using, replenish the starter with equal amounts of flour and water and store, covered, in the fridge. Bring to room temperature before using. Every 10 days, add a little food (in the form of equal volumes of flour and water) to the starter.

Dough:
1 Tbsp. (15 ml) yeast
1 Tbsp. (15 ml) sugar or honey
1/2 cup (125 ml) warm water
3 cups (750 ml) all-purpose flour
1 cup (250 ml) whole wheat flour
2 Tbsp. (30 ml) canola or olive oil
salt to taste
1 cup (250 ml) sourdough starter
1- 1 1/2 cups (250-375 ml) warm water
1 egg
1 Tbsp. (15 ml) cream

In a large bowl, mix together the yeast, sugar or honey and 1/2 cup (125 ml) water. Let stand 5 minutes to proof and activate the yeast, then add all the remaining ingredients except the egg and cream.

Mix well to form a soft dough. Turn out and knead by hand, adding extra flour as required. Lightly oil the inside of the bowl, return the dough to the bowl, cover with plastic wrap and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1-1 1/2 hours. Punch down the dough, turn out onto the counter and knead in additional flour as needed to form a satiny ball. Divide the dough into 5 equal parts and roll each into a fat strand about 1" (2.5 cm) thick and 12-15" (30 -43 cm) long.

Line a baking sheet with parchment or lightly oil it. Place the 5 strands on the sheet. Snugly pinch together the far ends, leaving the strands running toward you on the counter. Mentally number the strands from left to right, then re number them after each separate movement. Lift #2 over #3, then #5 over #2, then #1 over #3. Repeat the sequence until the strands are used up. Neatly tuck the ends under, lightly cover and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Thoroughly blend the egg and cream, and then brush it over the surface of the raw risen bread dough. Bake at 375°F (190°C) about 40 minutes or until nicely golden and baked through.

Braised Cowboy Steak
Adapted from the Swiss steak made by my prairie-born mom. For colour, serve with grilled vegetables and corn on the cob. Serves 4-6.

2 lb. (1 kg) round steak
salt and freshly cracked pepper
flour
3-4 Tbsp. canola or olive oil
2-3 cups chicken or beef stock

Cut the steak into portions and dredge each in salt, pepper and flour. Pound the steak with a meat mallet or the back of your French knife to tenderize it. Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed sauté pan and fry the beef, turning as each side browns. Remove the meat, add the stock and scrape up all the browned bits and bring the stock to a boil. Return the meat to the pan, cover snugly and reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook until the meat is tender, 1-2 hours, depending on the thickness of the meat.

Raisin Cream Pie
This recipe is adapted from Bunny Barss' book, Come and Get It, Cowboys and Chuckwagons (Rocky Mountain Books). It shares a few similarities with Edna Staebler's raisin cream pie from Food That Really Schmecks, her award-winning collection of regional Mennonite recipes from Ontario.

Makes 1 pie

pastry for a one-crust pie
2 1/2 cups (625 ml) sultana raisins
1 1/2 cups (375 ml) water
1/2 cup (125 ml) brown sugar
3 Tbsp. (45 ml) cornstarch
2 Tbsp. (30 ml) vinegar
1/3 cup (80 ml) orange juice
1/2 cup (125 ml) heavy cream

Roll out the pastry and drape it over a pie plate, being careful not to stretch the pastry. Trim and flute the edges.

Simmer the raisins and water for 10 minutes, and then add the brown sugar. Dissolve the cornstarch in the vinegar and orange juice, stir in and bring to a boil. Once the mixture is thickened, add the cream, stir well and pour into the prepared pie shell. Bake at 375°F (190°C) for 30 minutes. Cool before slicing.