Ringing in the New Year in French Quebec City

Here we are in old Quebec City celebrating New Year`s eve.  It is so wonderful here, in Quebec, I just love it.  We have great friends who live here and whenever we have the opportunity, we love to drive up here and have a great visit.

If you have never been here, last night would have romanced you and you would be struck with a French passion.  Just after sunset, we all piled in to the car and drove into the old town.  You have to picture it here now, the rolling, rough hills covered in mounds of snow, the mighty St Lawrence River slowly flowing to the sea, its surface jagged with floating ice, its waters steely grey, a white smear of freezing mist, rolling a foot above its surface, like a fast swipe of white stark against the grey waters and the rolling dark clouds speeding across the sky.  Ahead the looming chateau Frontenac dominates the skyline, the pines across the river, the old city ahead of us.  We drove along the river, then descended and suddenly we are in the old city, parking along side the river.  We had decided to wander the old cobblestone streets to see the Christmas lights.  

The four of us climbed up the long sweeping stairs into the old city.  Quebec City remains the only completely walled city in North America and it is truly is magical to enter its charms.  The old shops, houses and inns, leaning topsy turvy against each other, sudden little lanes leading off sideways, lit with gas lights, promising adventure, sudden flashes of light as the doors of centuries old churches open and spill people into the snow covered streets, the smells of chocolate and chesnuts in the air, the light snow flakes falling on our scene, it was truly wonderful last night.  We ambled along, talking, drinking it in, admiring the white lights nestled in great bows of spruce and pine, tucked against paned windows, resting on great slabs of stone sills.  Warm in our coats, scarves and gloves, the city opened up to us and remarkably, you felt like you had stepped back in time, expecting French sailors to appear around the corner, drunk on mulled wine, arms slung around each other`s shoulders, or expecting stout French matrons to be rushing their cold children along ahead of them like a child driving fat piglets before them.  An hour of wandering left us chilled but warmed with memories, with charm, with grace.  

This morning we had galettes for breakfast, triangles of left over pie pastry rolled out and baked and served at breakfast.  You toast these flaky morsels and eat them hot smothered in butter and jam or as I like them covered in slowly melting Nutella.  We have a day ahead of us of shopping for artisan cheeses, perhaps some Cariboo, a fortified red wine commonly enjoyed here, tourtiere, a French pork pie and I always head back home with a car stuffed with pastries, breads and other goodies.  It is a foodie`s paradise here and for certain the car will have a couple of new bottles of red wine to enjoy once we return.  Tonight, we are heading to a traditional French New Year`s Eve party, complete with games, singing, probably the playing of spoons on the knees of somehow who has had way too much to drink, and after the countdown and giving of good wishes for the new year, a groaning buffet meal served to satisfy late night hunger and likely soak up some drink soaked bodies.  It is going to be a great time!  I love French culture with its dedication to good food, good wine and good company.  A perfect place to revel and to ring in a new year filled with thoughts of cooking, food and sharing laughter.  I hope you are enjoying wherever you are and wish you a new year filled with prosperity, promise and much love.  More on the revels tomorrow!!!

What a great Christmas gift

What a wonderful time of year this is.  Every year at Christmas, I never feel ready for it, never quite enough in the spirit, always almost there, just on the edge and then, suddenly, when Christmas Eve arrives, like the miracle that it is, I arrive in the place where I can enjoy it freely.  This Christmas was no different.

This Christmas however I was struck by the number of interruptions to spirit and the number of opportunities to be thankful for the blessings we have received.  Over the past few days, we have watched, experienced or heard of trials at Christmas through friends.  My sister in law has recovered well from a dangerous car accident, a blessing to us all that she escaped so easily.  Another sister in law dislocated her shoulder and had to have it popped back in on Christmas eve day, a jarring moment of pain amid the joy.  A friend’s uncle has been diagnosed with cancer, another a burst cyst to heal,  another a fire in her apartment building and a neighbour losing their life, another friend’s dear father with fears following a misdose of medication.  Still another friend, her uncle wins the lottery and his life changed forever.  For me, I have been quite sick over the holidays and over my birthday.

But amid it all, and in my sickness in particular, I received the joy of love.  My guy, with vows fresh in ink and still being etched on his heart, took up the vow pledging love even in illness.  My guy cared for me through my sweats and chills, through coughing, and running noses, endless sleeping and discomfort.  When I was irritable, he was forgiving, when I was needy, he was strong, when I was unable to ask, he answered anyway.  But it was when I caught him always watching me that my heart leapt.  To be loved in such a deep way that you are always in their thoughts, that their first concern is for you, that they will do anything to make you well and happy that was my Christmas gift.  He always makes me smile, even when I am coughing up a lung!

I enjoyed the meals of turkey, and potatoes covered in gravy, of squash, peas, carrots, corn, broccoli and cheese sauce, red cabbage, salads and rolls, and dessert tables groaning with cookies, squares and mincemeat pies, figgy pudding with rum sauce and trifles.  I enjoyed family, charades, laughter, cards, new and old stories.  Mostly I enjoyed my guy.  In marriage I am still getting used to having him always at my side and am only now beginning to see what blessings I will receive simply by having him in my life.  Today I am starting to feel much better and soon will be back to being my old self.  And then I can make it up to him.  But the real joy I feel is that he doesn’t expect me to make it up to him, that he would do it all over again.  To be loved is a marvelous thing, and in this marriage, I will get to feel it every day.  

Wishing you a most wonderful Christmas

At this time of year, I cannot help but reflect on the miracle of the season; a hopeful promise made to us that was held in loving expectation until Christmas morning, a vision and a promise which has changed our lives and our world. You have all given me a most wonderful Christmas present, the gift of your support, your interest and your enthusiasm for my project.  For that, I am deeply thankful.

I want to take the opportunity to wish you all a wonderful Christmas season filled with hopeful expectation, blessings, love and much laughter and a 2011 bursting with good health, family, friends, prosperity and joy.  From my guy and me, Merry Christmas to you and to your families.  

A very special first Christmas

Here it is the eve of Christmas Eve!  I had a great night last night baking, made two dozen butter tarts and only ate one as a sample.  I had enough left over pastry so I made a quick apple pie.  I love the smell of apple pie baking and the pastry turned out marvelously, very flaky and light.  It made me think of the ladies at Friendly Acres all those years ago.

Today I am moving pretty slowly but my guy is home with me today, our holidays have started.  We just made a batch of Rice Krispie squares with chocolate drizzled on top, quick, easy and always a hit.  We are going to start preparing trays of goodies to take to friends and family and have decided to keep the pie for ourselves.  Dessert for tonight!  I love being home with my guy.  I was single for a long time, and I quite enjoyed being single.  But suddenly now that I am married, I know what I have been waiting for, days like this, when you work together, laugh some, are quiet some, having some to depend on and to whom to offer support.  The family chaos which I love begins tomorrow but today it is just us, just the two of us, a Christmas gift in itself.  This is my first married Christmas, a time that only comes once, that I am going to ensure I take the pause to remember and cherish.  I really love that guy and can’t imagine my life without him. That he came in to my life is my Christmas miracle, a gift given freely to me, unexpected and hoped for, a reward for just being me. It is going to be a very special first Christmas.

Sampling butter tarts

Ah the first day of holidays from work.  You can almost feel at loose ends.  It has been such a nice day so far, getting up, having a breakfast of pancakes covered in bananas, blackberries and blueberries smothered in real maple syrup with my baby.  It is a rare treat to be able to have breakfast with my guy during the week and it definitely started the day off right.

I made a pan of cherry nut bars and just got up from a decadent time of sitting and watching television in the middle of the afternoon.  I am going to go now into the kitchen and make some pie pastry so I can make a couple dozen butter tarts.  I just love a homemade butter tart, flaky pastry, rich running syrup in the centre, stuffed with plump raisins.  And if you have never made butter tarts from scratch, you must.  They make the ones you buy in the grocery store, pre-made in some factory, pale in comparison.  The trick for me will be not to eat too many as they come out of the oven!

Tonight is set aside for all those last minutes jobs we all have to do just before the holidays including doing some cleaning so the house is tip top ready for the holiday.  We will be spending Christmas Eve with my parents and Christmas day with my guys and then two days later my birthday.  It is a great time of year for celebrating.  I have to remind myself to set a few goals for the cookbook so I get some more work done on it over the holidays but I hope you will be just like me, and take full advantage of every opportunity to enjoy this most wonderful time of the year!

Ignore the fitness police - enjoy a Christmas cookie

Here’s what I decided this morning.  I may not have Nigella Lawson’s poise, or Rachel Ray’s bubbly enthusiasm or even Martha Stewart’s endless creativity ( or her large posse of creative types on the payroll).  I don’t have Jamie Oliver’s endless enthusiasm to feed the world, though we do share the same name and love of eating.  And I certainly don’t’ have Gordon Ramsay’s fiery temperament.  But I do make a mean chocolate drop cookie!  The fridge last night was full of cookie sheets covered in waxed paper, chocolate drops cooling in rows.  I tried a few, and even though I am losing my taste for sweets with all this baking, I had to stop myself from eating a tray while watching television.  There should be a leather restraint or a cute little pink pill we could all use to stop ourselves from over-indulging this season but it is almost one of the great joys of this time of year.  Sure we will all be moaning about having to go back to the gym and lose some weight in the new year and we will all promise not too do it again.  The fitness police will tell us this is a cycle that we have to break, that somehow carrot sticks and hummus snacks on Christmas Eve are somehow just as tasty as rum balls and egg nog.  I understand they have to protect their job but frankly they are wrong.  I love this cycle.  And I don’t exercise in the new year because I feel guilty for eating what I liked, that I only get this time of year, with friends and family. I exercise because it is good for me, desserts or not.  And I enjoy the sweets, the meals, the wine, the drinks and the chocolates this time of year because they taste good, because they are a tradition, because I get to enjoy them with the people I love.  I say go ahead and eat.  I would rather live my life exuberantly than die a thin corpse.   Exercise for sure, but in moderation, just like enjoying this season’s treats in moderation.  Well, sometimes to excess when it comes to shortbreads or chocolate drops but the main thing is to enjoy!  I may not be a professional chef with a cooking show to support me, guest signings, tours and books but I know how to make a great plate of Christmas goodies.  Tonight, more baking and more sticking my finger in the batter to ensure it tastes great!

Christmas baking: part two & replenishing the cupboards

It’s the week of Christmas and this morning, still the snow falls.  I have always loved how quiet the world is when it is snowing.  It is suddenly starting to feel like Christmas.  With work being so busy recently, I have to admit that it hasn’t felt like Christmas but after the baking yesterday and celebrating my sister’s birthday, I am catching the Christmas spirit.

Talking about baking, I have a shopping list as long as my arm today to replenish the cupboards.  Off to the grocery store on my way home from work today to pick up more marshmallows, corn syrup, icing sugar, rice krispies, chocolate, cherries.  Tonight on the docket is chocolate drops and I think I will make the pan of cherry nut bars.  Cherry nuts bars are a tradition in my family, my mother and aunts always made them this time of year, a gooey, coconut, nuts, cherries and sugary delicious centre between graham cracker crusts, iced with pink icing coloured with a little cherry juice.  I love them and so does the whole family so I have to make a pan.  And easy too, make the mixture in a pot on the stove and then cool till hard in the fridge.  Tonight while you are enjoying dinner, think of me, my sleeves rolled up, flour on my face, counters covered, dropping delicious chocolate drops on waxed paper, singing along to Christmas music!  And if that image doesn’t frighten you, then you too have caught the Christmas spirit!

An afternoon filled with Christmas baking

It has been a Christmas baking miracle around here!  You should smell the house right now, delicious.  We got on a roll today, a good day to stay home and bake.  Outside, cold, small frigid flakes swirling around, in my opinion the kind of day to stay indoors and cook!  First thing, a batch of chocolate chip cookies to eat while baking with a large icy cold glass of milk.  My guy joined me at the kitchen bar and helped time recipes, shape cookies on sheets and taste test as they came out of the oven.  So far, we have made coconut magic bars with butterscotch and chocolate chips, brownies with a chocolate oatmeal crust on the bottom and peanut butter icing, butter cookies with hazelnuts, coconut and cranberries, peanut butter cookies, chocolate cookies with macadamia nuts.  Banana bread is waiting to go in the oven and I think we will make some chocolate drops as well tonight, a perennial favourite from my childhood.  This week I still want to make some skor bars, Sweet Marie bars, cherry nut bars, spice cookies and homemade butter tarts.  I absolutely butter tarts; it is always a challenge not to eat them as they come from the oven.  For lots of desserts I can make them and then enjoy watching others enjoy them but butter tarts are a real weakness of mine!  It has been a great afternoon, especially after two hours of ironing this morning, ugh!  Christmas is a great excuse to dust off all your favourite dessert recipes and indulge in making them all.  

English Christmas teas

Wow what a day!  Okay, so this morning we packed the car with all the Christmas gifts and hit the road, like Santa setting out from the Pole.  We stopped at my brother and sister in laws, dropped off some gifts for Christmas morning, sampled a delicious mincemeat tart right out of the oven and back on the road we went.  Today was my sister’s birthday and everyone headed home to my parents to celebrate.  Everyone was home including all my nieces and nephews, most of whom are under four and the eldest is only ten.  As you can imagine, the party was a marvelous riot of noise, chaos, adults and kids in every direction, cake smeared on faces, bows placed atop heads, wine bottled emptied, plates scraped and lots of laughter. It was a great afternoon, loud, but filled with family.

After the party we stopped at a dear friend’s, a friend from my university days, for a Christmas tea.  It was a great time, the tree twinkling softly in the corner, soft lights, hot teas, plates full of food balanced on your lap and endless laughter and stories.  I sat there, thoroughly enjoying myself, and the whole experience reminded me of why I love high teas and the first time I ever experienced one.  To be honest, the first time I had a high tea was only two years ago and it has already become a tradition.  Two summers ago, while we were dating, my guy and I took a trip to England to meet and visit with his uncle and aunt in Paignton, Devon, down along the south coast of England.  It was a perfect English summer, clear blue skies, warm days, no rain, vibrant green fields and the sea, always the sea, beyond the cliffs, shining in the sun. We saw ponies on the moors, sailed down the river Dart, feasted in small bakeries, supped on carvery, sampled pear and apple ciders, gulped down cockles in paper cups sold from chip trucks by the sea all washed down by beers galore.  I had chip butties, and eggs and chips, and real Cornish pasties sitting on the breakwater in Padstow in Cornwall. 

One brilliant afternoon, I was introduced to the glories of the high English cream tea.  We traveled over to Torquay and shortly past three, we entered the Grand hotel, a majestic old place with a terrace on which we sat that overlooks the sparkling bay.  I remember feeling the breeze from the sea and knowing that this moment would make a memory.  Shiny pots of tea arrived, carried by waiters in black and whites, the shirts still starched, the bow ties unloosened.  White crockery cups, small plates piled in delicate almond cookies, sugar in cubes.  That tea went down fine, somehow appropriate, calling us to slow down.  Soon, plates of finger sandwiches arrived, lean, rare beef with horseradish, cheese and pickle, tomato and cream cheese, water crest and cheese, all fanned before us. Honestly, in normal circumstances, I would have eaten the entire plate and looked for more, but just then, it was enough.   Just when it seemed complete, carried before them in the place of honour, the waiters placed the cream scones before us, impossibly high, golden brown on all sides, dusted as if blown on the breath of babies with powdered sugar.  Tubs of Devon cream nestled beside pots of home made strawberry jams.  I make my own strawberry jam every year and can appreciate a good, full fruit jam, the berries still retaining the sun in the fields.  I remember cutting the scones, flakes falling from my knife, and then covering them with cream and jam.  That first magical taste and I was hooked.  Each bite required another slathering of cream and jam and all too soon the scone was gone and I was left only with its memory. Even now, I can recall exactly how it was to sit there, on that terrace, the breeze from the sea, the sun bouncing of the water, the tea warm in my hand, the scone light between my fingers, the cream and jam still on my lips, family beside me, my guy smiling from across the table, the perfect English tea.  And now it is a tradition we carry here in our home and in the homes of our friends.  Food is magical sometimes and causes us to change; it can shape and twist and reform our life by adding its texture and its meaning to the everyday.  

Easy afternoon

 A lazy afternoon, the snow falling softly outside and I am transcribing recipes.  It feels so good to slow down and get a chance to work on the cookbook.  Finally, starting to feel productive again.  Tonight, I hope, my guy and I will get to go on a date, just relax and enjoy a nice meal somewhere and then a weekend filled with family.  My sister’s birthday celebration is tomorrow, so we will have a great family meal and watch her squeal with delight opening her gifts, then a Christmas tea with a good friend on the way home.  And with luck, a visit on Sunday to my brother- and sister-in-law’s place for some easy conversation, maybe a board game and time to plan a trip the sunny south this winter.  Slowing down and loving it.  Better get back to work, hope you have a wonderful weekend.

French food and car trips

Today perspective seems to be returning and I only say that half tongue in cheek.  Suddenly I can see, from this vantage point sitting at my desk, the holidays coming over the horizon and how ready am I for them!  I know I have been complaining about how busy work has been but it suddenly is coming to a screeching halt.  The next few days seem almost barren of work and then, come Wednesday, it is all over for another year.  

I am so ready to have some time to connect with my guy again.  The honeymoon was marvelous, a wonderful gift to only enjoy each other separate from the cares of the regular routine, of work, of family, a chance to just have fun with each other.  Since then till now, it has been busy for both of us and I am looking forward to slowing down and relaxing together.  We have the same time off work which is also fantastic so we will have the same rhythm to relax.

We have been talking about driving up to Quebec City in Quebec over the holidays and spend some time over New Year’s with our friends in the city.  Quebec City is a marvelous place and if you have never visited, I would highly recommend it if you ever have the chance.  The oldest walled city in North America, it is a French speaking city, steeped in history, on the banks of the mighty St Lawrence River.  At this time of year, the city will be celebrating all things winter!  Ice sculptures, outdoor art exhibits, Cariboo, a fortified regional wine, served in glass carved from ice, everyone enjoying the outdoors, skiing, skating, strolling.  The city is alive at this time of year, well, it always is I suppose, but over the holidays and in the winter, it shines.  A celebration of winter, of good food and good wine, of steaming bowls of hot chocolate and delicious regional treats, of friends and family.  I love it whenever we find the time to drive up and visit them and I always come home with a car full of treats, artisan cheeses, local pastries, wines, candies, syrup, oh the list of shopping for things to fill my tummy can go on and on.  It is also nice to hop in the car and have a road trip, take you out of your normal routine, alone on the road.  Maybe it is a uniquely North American love, the car road trip, but having friends in Australia who also enjoy it, I think the road trip is loved by anyone who lives in a country with vast distances, where movement is celebrated, and frankly where the car is dominant!  Not quite as easy to do the road trip on a bicycle in Holland, especially this time of year.  Mind you, when we participated in the Ride to Conquer Cancer 220 km bike ride, I learned to appreciate seeing the world from the seat of my bike.

Anyway, I am feeling more settled today and have already thought about poaching a few recipes from friends while we are in Quebec City to add to the cookbook, add a bit of French flavour to the pages. I have a lot of work to do on the cookbook over the holidays but knowing I have the time to sit and savour the experience, I think I will get much more done!  Keep your fingers crossed that’s true!

Too much eating and not enough working!

Just a quick chat tonight.  The last two days have been so crazy with work and both nights I have been out for dinner with work colleagues.  Great fun, and a great way to celebrate the end of the year but selfishly no time to work on the cookbook!  I did have some good news today, I have two more confirmed models for the cookbook cover so the team is assembling.  And work has been good at reminding me that I am capable of tackling big challenges and finding my way through it so I know I can do the same with this adventure.  Feeling completely beat so I think I will sign off and say good night.  Still thinking of you and of my cookbook but I think tonight the only progress I will make on it is dreaming of it!  Talk to you tomorrow!

I love it when a plan starts to come together

Woo hoo, I had a great conversation with Lesley last night about the photo shoot.  Whenever I get the opportunity to talk to Lesley about the photography, I get re-energized.  I think I must spend too much time over-thinking the whole thing, worrying about what-ifs and planning for the worst case, but Lesley always calms me and reminds how much fun it is going to be!  It looks like we should be okay for models, of both sexes and she is all over getting the make up artist arranged.  I have figured out what food I want featured on the cover so now I can, almost, sit back and relax!  Not that I am very good at it but with the holiday approaching I am sure I will be encouraged to relax by circumstance, time and family commitments and my desire to simply enjoy the season.  I keep imagining that day, the cameras flashing, me darting in to arrange food or give coaching on how I would like things, people getting make up done and my guy smiling looking on.  Too much fun.  I need to focus on the fun, since these moments will never come again when it is all unknown, fresh, new and a whole new experience.

I have been thinking about my YouTube videos as well.  I have a few ideas, mostly for funny ads for the cookbook and I may ask a friend who is a very funny, generous drag performers if he/she would like to be in some of the videos as well. She would be a scream and certainly add something never seen before in the selling of cookbooks!  I hope she will do it; I know it too would be a tremendous amount of fun simply shooting the videos.  I have mostly decided on the photos for the website so I need to find some time to start writing the copy for the website, oh, so much to do.  But inch by inch, getting there.  I better brush my hair in case I get enlisted into the photo shoot for the cover.  Not really a fan of getting my picture taken but if pushed and backed in a corner, if a blinding blizzard keeps everyone from the house on the day of the shoot, if my food freezes from car to door, if the lights pop, and camera fails, if Lesley gets the flu or I forget to cook, we may have to improvise and put me in the photos simply smiling through it all! 

With everyone pitching in, we might just get there!

What a day yesterday.  We had my parents over during the afternoon.  We took them out with us house hunting, always a depressing chore, and then we went to Walmart, a dreaded destination during the Christmas shopping season!  We only needed a few things and fortunately we ran into good friends in line, so we poached a spot and got through quickly thanks to their kindness!  

I had some chicken marinating so we headed home and had a great meal of chicken, mashed potatoes, cauliflower with cheese sauce and roasted, caramelized butternut squash and sweet potatoes, drizzled with balsamic vinegar and maple syrup.  Yumm.  We were too full for the chocolate caramel cheesecake my mother brought so it will have to wait to be enjoyed.  We trekked out in last night’s storm to see a great Christmas concert, occasionally cheesy, like a bad combination of  a Lawrence Welch special meets Bollywood meets Icecapades!  It was great fun, if a late night before the work week starting!  This week looks so busy, as it always seems to be the last full week of work before the holidays.

I am excited for tonight as I am getting together with Lesley to catch up on our respective progress in getting ready for the photoshoot on January 8.  Things are starting to come together but I still feel uneasy with too many unanswered questions and I am little concerned we may not have enough male models for the cover.   Female models seem to be easier to arrange; keep your fingers crossed we will get there.  Only a few weeks away now and I have to admit I am starting to get excited.  And other friends have been great in offering suggestions and help on how to get the website up, advertising, maximizing my online presence and even suggesting hair and make up artists for the shoot that they know personally.  It is going to get a great big group effort to get this cookbook launched!!

Learning patience

What a day!  Last minute Christmas shopping that I promised myself I wouldn’t do.  But we are finished!  And this evening we have been wrapping gifts which I really enjoying doing.  Christmas music on the radio, a glass of eggnog in our hands, I am measuring and cutting the paper and my guy is wrapping the gifts at the table.  Talking and enjoying.  We have also decided today that, as easy Christmas gifts when we go to parties or stop in at friends over the season, we are going to make fancy jars with dry cookie mix layered in them.  Easy to do, delicious to eat and fun to receive.  Now we will just see how much patience it will take to layer the ingredients on an angle in the jars!

Today I have to admit I am learning patience.  I know advent is all about waiting and anticipation and patience, letting go of expectations and awaiting the miracle of Christmas.  But today I find I am not very patient.  I am rushing, am on edge slightly, am not letting the day unfold, as it will.  And I admit I am taking it out a bit on my guy.  Another lesson for marriage I am learning, letting go, forgiving, offering patience, finding space, opening up for what it will be.  In the rush, I need to notice the tomato sauce I made for dinner: it simmered for hours, blending its flavours.  I gave the food patience, I need to find it in my relationship as well.  I need to await, to release my expectations and let it be.  Everyday I find it is a chance for me to learn about being married and learn about myself, and watch myself.  I remind myself to be the best self I can bring each day to my marriage!

Gooey tarts, cookies, squares and sweaty palms

For some reason today, I am thinking about Christmas concerts as a child.  I suppose it is probably because on Sunday we are going to a Christmas concert downtown with my parents. But today I am thinking of those simplier ones we use to do, with friends from class or Sunday school, all knees and elbows and piping voices, sweaty palms getting on stages and grins with gaps where teeth should be.

When I was small I remember going to Sunday school every Sunday.  In what perhaps was a foreshadowing of my crazy need to be on time, I remember getting perfect attendance at Sunday school for five years running!  Imagine what I was like as a child!  I remember the worn linoleum floors of the Sunday school hall, the rubbed metal of the tracks which ran around the ceiling and from which hung faded rose coloured curtains which could be pulled to create separate “classrooms” for teaching.  I remember a great friend Carolyn in my class, led by Mrs Dorington.  Carolyn was learning to play the accordion. Can you imagine how marvelous that was and is, particularly now looking back, that this slight, little girl with bangs and braces was learning to play an accordion almost half the size she was.  I remember being fascinated by it and even then not seeing anything peculiar or laugh-inducing in the fact that she was learning it.  Only that she could manipulate bellows and keys and pegs all at the same time with her little stubby fingers.  I remember the endless rehearsals for the Christmas concert and then performance night, families coming in from the snow, sitting in rows steaming with coats and gloves and mittens strung by a string through the sleeves of your coat from one side to the other.  And the singing, loud, clear, off key likely, looking out at the church, warmed by the kid next to you, itchy in new wool pants, thinking about the desserts to be served downstairs afterward.

I still marvel that all those women provided so much food for so many occasions.  I am not sure if you ever experienced a church supper or a church social but if nothing else it was always served up, the entire even, on long folding tables, covered in paper tablecloths, tapped underneath with masking tape.  To this day I associate particular foods with church suppers, salmon sandwiches cut in triangles, jellied moulds, coffee served in enormous silver cylinders with spouts at the end like a pool with a drain, pickles in glass trays, devilled eggs with slashes of paprika strewn across the tops.  At church suppers, the women would have prepared vast mounds of roast turkey on platters, mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, coleslaw made by the vat, pickles and pickled beets.  And each woman would have baked a pie of varying fruits and styles.  They would all be cut up, placed on mismatched crockery plates, loaded as an assortment on large plastic trays and then delivered to the tables so you could select your own piece de resistance to end the meal.  Sticky mints, occasionally covered in lint, in glass bowls, bowls of clementines and trays of sugar cookies with coloured sprinkles, homemade butter tarts, and squares of every kind.  It really was food in abundance, food for celebrating and rejoicing.  Hmm, makes me think it is time to get baking for Christmas!

Web dreams

Today I have been thinking lots about my website for the cookbook.  I have absolutely no idea how to build a website so I have done some research today and found a company called Square Space.  From what I can see already it is a service that offers templates, design, layout and editing capabilities for neophytes like me as well as managing all the domain registrations and infrastructure.  I have no experience with html and I mean absolutely none, so hopefully this will be easy enough that even a beginner like me can figure out how to build it.  

I would like to launch the website in the next little while to coincide with the release of the cookbook.  Apparently I can link my blog and the Facebook page to the website.  It also offers a community space which has got me thinking about whether readers would like to post some of their own stories of feeding their guy, or share photos of the delicious meal they just made, or swap recipes. It would be a great way for everyone to learn and share.  I am not sure if anyone would like it or not but it could be an idea.  As much as I see using InDesign as daunting, doing the website will be even scarier.  If I make mistakes it will be out there for everyone to see immediately, oh, the joys of the World Wide Web!!!!  I certainly have lots of pictures of my own food and snaps of food from around the world during my holidays that I could share so if the job is to create a great big picture book, I’m the one to do it.  Out to dinner tonight with friends so no cooking for me and no transcribing of recipes either. With every sweet there seems to be some sour!  Friends, family and love first, work on the book second!

Heigh ho, heigh ho, still so much work to go!

Wow things are starting to really speed up for me now.  I feel like everything is moving so fast!  I have been working at transcribing recipes, but not nearly as quickly as I would like.  I have been sketching out advertising and marketing ideas in my notebook and realizing how much work I have to do there.  I have been stealing time to start compiling a list of news outlets and newspapers to whom to send press releases once the cookbook is complete; it is completely boring, repetitive and tedious, all things that I deplore!  I have been working with Lesley to arrange the photo shoot for the cookbook cover, trying to figure out what food to stage and how, what waivers I need to check, and arranging models.  Read friends, family, acquaintances, basically anyone I can cajole or convince that being on a unknown cookbook cover for free is a good idea.  Seriously would you give up a Saturday for the pleasure of standing around having your picture taken, pretending to enjoy food you are not allowed to eat??  A true test of my skills as a sales person!  Lots to do and with Christmas coming I feel like I have to get so much done in the next two weeks, especially since we have set the date for the photo shoot for January 8, 2011.   It will be here before I know and the last thing I want is to have a photographer and no one to photograph or no food ready for the shoot.  And thinking about sales strategies, do you think we could all convince Oprah or Ellen to endorse the cookbook on their show?!?

On the flip side, I spent a bit of time on Sunday reviewing the statistics on the audience for this blog and honestly you blew me away.  First, welcome to everyone.  There were far more readers than I expected.  And did you know, as you comfortably read this entry, that you are part of a community of readers following this blog from all over Europe including France, Germany, Netherlands and the UK, Russia, Indonesia, Australia, Brazil, the United Arab Emirates as well as the United States and Canada to name only a few of the places people live who are following along.  I was so overwhelmed and touched that so many people are interested, I wanted to say thank you.  And thank you for the new pressure to try and have something interesting each day to say from my seemingly routine and all together normal life!  But it is just great and we passed the 300 member mark last week of the number of fans of Feeding your guy cookbook on Facebook, heading quickly to my goal of 500 fans by the new year!  It is so exciting and rewarding to me that so many people are interested and it really helps on days when I am doubting myself to know I have so many people from so many places supporting me along the way.  I put a rice pudding recipe in the cookbook at the request of my dear friend Laurie; it is surreal to think that people in far away Indonesia or exotic United Arab Emirates might enjoy a bowl of it as well! Tonight more transcribing for me, one step at a time on this journey!  See you all tomorrow!

Nibbles, cheeses and flops oh my!

Pretty great weekend and as I sit down here now to write, the snow falling outside the window behind me, feels like the perfect time to tell you about it.  We have a fantastic time going to our Christmas parties, both held a friend’s places and both full of great friends, food and drink.  So of course I am going to tell you about the food or at least my food highlights!  I sampled some amazing cheeses this weekend.  I don’t know if you are like me or not but I adore cheese, every kind from mild to strong, soft to hard.  I sampled a hard, crumbly, almost parchment coloured Spanish cheese, a great French blue cheese, a dark smoked Cheddar, a Gouda with garlic, a red marbled cheese and my perennial favourite at their place a Guinness cheddar.  If you have never had go out and treat yourself.  It is a cheddar cheese surrounded and enveloped in dark, thick Guinness with a dark rind on it.  It tastes of aged cheddar with the earthiness of Guinness.  Absolutely amazing!  I also discovered the joy of espresso with a shot of sambuca in the coffee.  A rich taste that offsets nicely the light, dry biscotti we were eating with the coffee.  Overall it was a great way to slow and enjoy friends and since every where we went it was appetizers and finger foods, I could keep eating and not bother to count how many I had had.  When you only put six or seven chocolate covered almonds in your hand to eat, if you have two or three handfuls it somehow doesn’t seem like as many chocolates!

I also tried out a new soup recipe I am working on with friends on Saturday night.  Bit of  a flop actually.  I made a sweet potato and roasted red pepper soup but when we tried it is was kind of bland.  Needed something, so I am still tinkering with it.  Does it need nutmeg or cinnamon to make it sweeter or should I try cayenne as was suggested and make it fiery?  Or perhaps they simply don’t go together and it was just a flop.  Happens!  Actually, happens too frequently but I like flops just as much as successes.  It is all fun. 

Snow is coming down outside and this weather almost always make me think of comfort food.  Comfort food, comfort for us when we are feeling low, food to feed to your guy when he needs comfort, food to feed your kids to give them comfortable memories when they are adults.  Food, ah glorious food, what more can I say?  I think I will run, experiment with some left over soup, perfect on a snowy day, and heat up a left over stuffed pepper for dinner.  Left over night around this house! 

Let the parties begin!

I know I say this a lot but I love this time of day.  My guy is still sleeping in the room next door, the house is quiet and the day hasn’t started.  Everything still holds the promise of what is to come.  I go to bed earlier than my guy, almost always, so I love early mornings like this because I get to discover what he has been up to while I was sleeping.  I can follow his trail like a detective!  The empty mug with rings of tea stains, the empty bowl with salty kernels on the bottom and this morning a mess of freshly wrapped gifts under the tree.  The portable phone is sitting on the table; I know he was talking on the phone last night while he was wrapping.  Even when he isn’t around I can still feel connected to what he has been doing.  I hope it is the same when he comes in to a freshly baked banana loaf or Christmas cards written waiting for his signature.  We are in for a great weekend, two days of Christmas parties with friends.  It has been crazy at work for the last while, I am sure you remember all my whining and complaining, but now, this morning in the quiet I am looking down the pipe at two wonderful days of Christmas parties with dear friends, with plenty of food, wine and laughter.

Gold showered soup

One summer during university, I took a summer job at a private, fishing club in the country.  Built in the early 1900s, it was a large, four storey lodge, complete with massive stone fireplaces and a wrap around veranda overlooking the gardens, lawns and ponds on the property.  The men who joined the club fished for rainbow, brown and brook trout in the stocked ponds and I worked in the lodge serving wine at meals and cleaning the fish caught that day.  It was an idyllic oasis from another time, not much in touch with modernity or the rapid pace of day to day life, but rather an escape from life, a chance to slow down and step back.  Even for us staff, we lived on site, either in the rafters of the main lodge, small, squeaky rooms hidden on the upper floor accessed through a back servant’s staircase or in Goldie Lodge, a whitewashed, green-trimmed lodge above a garage, hidden among trees, walking distance from the lodge past a fish pond, bedrooms running off a main hallway, with a kitchen and sitting area.  To be honest, it was a wonderful summer job, a chance to get to know new friends, enjoy nights sitting in that living room talking, laughing, complaining about guests, never realizing entirely what a unique and unrepeatable experience we were having.  

I learned a lot about fish that summer.  How to clean one, prepare and fillet a trout.  I watched the chef prepare them, quickly, lightly, to preserve the fresh flaky taste of the freshly caught fish on the plate.  I learned how to mix a brine to smoke the trout.  I learned to gauge how many apple wood pucks to put in the smoker to give the flesh a particular taste, how much brown sugar to add to the brine, when to increase the spices when the fish were muddy in the mid-summer heat.  

I learned that pansies taste peppery when added to a summer salad, that flakes of gold on Scotch broth make the serving more elegant, that being able to make a brown sauce is just as important as being able to make a white one.  I watched the chef that summer and learned.  I watched how wholesome food, when served with flair, becomes gourmet.  I learned that sandwiches, a plate of cookies, a bowl of homemade soup and a pot of tea served on a veranda in the July sun is a repast.  I tasted food I have never had, wild boar sausage, pickled tongue sandwiches, veal chop.  I feel in love with variety but also with the pace with which the food was served.  Meals always began with cocktails in the lounges or on the veranda.  Wine accompanied dinner.  Starters were savoured, mains enjoyed and dessert something to insist upon having.  

I suppose I was younger but we rarely felt tired; we certainly worked hard and special events at the club were even larger undertakings and more work for us.  But there was a tranquility about the club, a dream like quality that took us somewhere else, where time slowed, conversation was encouraged, silence was treasured, the swish of the fly in the air over the still pond something upon which to be mediated and meals, good food, good wine, something to respected, something for which it was important to slow down.  Even now, I always insist that my guy and I sit down at the table for our meals, even when it is lowly soup or Kraft dinner or sandwiches.  I take it from my mother’s table.  She insisted we eat together.  Working at the trout club, this notion was reinforced.  We staff became friends because we ate together.  The club members and their guests became closer as they ate together.  More and more, as I work on this cookbook and think about my experiences with food, I am realizing that the centre act of cooking and preparing food is to create community, communities in families, among friends and strangers, in private homes and in restaurants.  In the pace of my current life, it is in sharing a meal perhaps the one moment when I consciously make time to connect.  

Ah the humble potato

Can I tell you how much I love potatoes?  Too much Irish blood flowing through my veins.  So in the spirit of the fun I had with pomegranates, here are some interesting facts concerning the simple potato. For instance, did you know that the potato was first cultivated at around 800 BC? And I kid you not, but these are true statements about potatoes and some of the folklore that surrounds them!

~ Potatoes are more nutritious when eaten with the skin on.

~ Potatoes were the first vegetable grown in space in 1995.

~ Europeans consume twice as many potatoes as Americans per year.

~ Potatoes are second only to milk as the most consumed food in America.

~ Treat facial blemishes by washing your face daily with cool potato juice.

~ Treat frostbite or sunburn by applying raw grated potato to the affected area.

~ Treat a toothache by carrying a potato in your pocket.

~ Treat a sore throat by placing a slice of baked potato in a stocking and applying to the throat.

~ Treat aches and pains by rubbing boiled potato water (cooled) to the affected area.

Ah the versatile potato, my perennial favourite!

Getting it done

I am sneaking a few moments to myself.  I just put some stuffed peppers in the oven for dinner and while I wait for them to cook and before I start the ironing (okay, in today’s world, why am I still ironing shirts every week for work?), I thought I would quickly share my progress.  At last count, I am up to 87 recipes transcribed for the cookbook and all the pounds to show for it.  Not surprisingly I have the most entries in my desserts section and frankly with the Christmas season coming, they are the most fun to make right now.  I have done some work on the soups, salads and appetitizers section, and some recipes in my “what to eat while the game is on” section but it is the main courses section that is falling down.  Oh, I have all my favourites I just haven’t seemed to get to them yet. 

I have to admit though I have a few piles sitting around on my desk like lonely forgotten toys trailing behind a toddler that I have to attack.  I have pulled the recipes out but they are just sitting waiting for me to get to them.  Fortunately, I am almost done all my shopping for Christmas already, well, maybe that isn’t fortunate, maybe it just shows that I am over the top, obsessive about getting things done in advance!  It will be my downfall on this project I can see that already.  I really do like to have things done in advance; it reduces my stress and lets me enjoy it more.  But life keeps getting in the way of my free time to get this cookbook done!  If only there wasn’t so much cooking to do every day.  Oh, wait a minute, it is my love of cooking that got me in this mess in the first place!  A vicious but delicious circle.

True to form, if I have my shopping and wrapping done early, I can concentrate on transcribing and testing recipes in December while enjoying the holiday season.  See always a plan!  We are making progress folks, hang in there, we will see this one completed!

Food to spice up your dating life!

So the other day I joked about how peeling a pomegranate can give you some insight into how much you love your guy or perhaps where you will draw the line.  It got me to thinking about pomegranates and how I know so very little about them, despite enjoying at this time of year, every year, my hands almost permanently stained red from the juice.  So I did a little research and here is what I have learned!

In the Hebrew mystical tradition called Kabala, the "wife" of God is conceived as a pomegranate.  Ah, does that make the “husband” a paring knife?

Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, the Greek goddess of spring, was once frolicking near the entrance to the Underworld. Its lord, Hades, enticed her to come closer and offered her to eat three pomegranate seeds. The myth has it that because of eating these seeds, she became permanently betrothed to him and was forced to endure living with him in his hot, lonely home.  Clearly girls, be careful what you order on a first date!

The ancient Chinese believed that pomegranate juice contained a "soul concentrate" which could confer immortality. The Babylonians believed that chewing pomegranate seeds before battle made the soldiers invincible.  I believe chewing pomegranate seeds just results in juice running down my chin!

Originating in Persia, the pomegranate appears in the folklore of ancient Egypt, where it was used in burial.  Really, how does one mummify a pomegranate I wonder?

Garnet stone– Named from the Latin word for pomegranate, commonly occurring deep reds to purple red, the stone of fidelity, passion, faith, strength, determination.  May someday replace diamonds in engagement rings, uhm, good thing I already have mine!

According to Judaic tradition, each pomegranate contains 613 arils, as the seeds are called, the exact number of good deeds a Jew should perform in a lifetime.   Certainly an easy way to keep track of your progress!

Some Christian scholars believe it was a pomegranate and not an apple that tempted Eve. Some Christians also consider the fruit a symbol of fertility, resurrection and immortality.  Believe me, if Eve knew how much work it was to peel one, she would certainly have chosen the apple!

Buddhists consider the pomegranate a blessed fruit. One legend explains that Buddha gave a pomegranate to Hariti, a demon who devoured her children, to cure her of her wicked ways.   I give them to my husband to keep him quiet!

To the ancient Romans, the pomegranate signified marriage and brides decked themselves in pomegranate wreaths.  I assume the leaves, carrying around all those round balls of fruit on your head would get heavy fast!

In Greek myth, Orion's wife was very beautiful, even rivaling the beauty of Zeus's wife, Hera. For her daring to compete with Hera, her children were killed and she was persuaded to believe herself the culprit. In agony, she threw herself from a cliff. The location of her blood was where the first pomegranate tree grew.  All I can say is, festive!?!

In the modern-day traditions of many Greeks, it is customary to adorn the holiday table with pomegranates. The Greeks consider the pomegranate to be a symbol of abundance; a fruit that spills over in plenitude and good luck. They are set out in honor of the fertile land and its bounty. Pomegranates also make an appearance during weddings,  funerals, and New Year celebrations.  Really, these are the same people who just pushed Orion over a cliff and now they set them out as symbols of good luck. Remind me not to ask a Greek for any ideas to improve my luck!

Pomegranates in China are associated with fertility. One of these fruits, shown half-opened, is often a wedding gift, it means a hundred seeds, or more completely, a hundred sons. The word for seed and sons in Chinese is "zi", it is also the word for "sons."  Again, remind me to be careful what I eat.  Can you imagine how big the rice pot has to be to feed one hundred sons!

Ancient Arab women used pomegranate seeds to predict their own fertility. The pomegranate was dropped on the ground, in the center of a circle. When it broke open, the number of seeds that landed outside the circle, was the number of children she would have.  All the more reason to be careful in the kitchen and never let your fruit drop to the floor!

All in good fun but I have to admit I found it very interesting when I was doing some research.  I can’t even imagine what I could learn next about, say, carrots?

What a bowl!

It’s Sunday morning and I am feeling much better.  The flu has only slowed me down and, although this might make you laugh, I spent an awful lot of time while I was lying in bed unable to sleep, my nose dripping, a headache pounding in the lower back of my head, my throat scratchy and desirous of some flat ginger ale, thinking about recipes and my cookbook!  I know writing this cookbook may not be healthy for me.  At the expense of all else, I seem to be always dreaming of this project!

I got out of bed this morning and walked straight into the kitchen and reached into my lazy Susan and pulled out my favourite crockery bowl.  Swear.  I know I am even smiling at myself as I write this and shaking my head, seriously they may be something wrong with me.  Quite soon I am almost certain, little men, not in stark white coats smelling slightly of bleach and hand sanitizer and offering snug fitting coats that clasp at the back but rather in my case the little men in stark white aprons smelling slightly of flour and nutmeg and offering the newest in Teflon coated, raised cookie baking sheets will come suddenly through my front door and escort me out and into a sparkling clean doughnut truck to take me somewhere quiet for a rest! Anyway doesn’t everyone get out of bed and walk immediately into their kitchen and pull out their favourite bowl and feel comforted and pleased?

So I did.  I pulled out my bowl and just held it and look at it all around.  I suppose I must have been dreaming about it or thinking about it as I awoke.  It was my grandmother’s bowl. It is a thick crockery bowl, medium to large sized, cream-coloured with two thick blue bands around its lip.  The finish has been muted, almost buffed natural, by the endless washing that poor bowl has endured over its life.  It has a soft texture, the inside scored gently by spoons pushing around its sides.  I am not sure where Grandma ever got the bowl, whether it was a gift for Christmas or she bought it at Sears or whether it was a found, for a nickel, on a church bazaar table nestled besides hand knitted mittens and tea cozies. My cousin Heather who sometimes reads this blog will know the one!

But I remember that bowl throughout my childhood.  Coming in off the hills outside her house, cold from riding our sleigh, it would be on the counter, Grandma making us tea biscuits and hot chocolate when we came in from the cold, hot biscuits covered in butter and honey emerging from that bowl, and served to us at the table to warm up.  I know she would have made pies and desserts, dinners and lunches in that bowl for my own mother when she was a child, Mom’s favourites emerging from that bowl.  Grandma’s hands would have washed it, standing at her sink looking out the window at the garden and the bush beyond.  My hands travel where hers once did as I clean it after feeding my guy.  My mother gave me the bowl when Grandma passed away. I had just left for university and I am sure my mother, ever practical, gifted me the bowl knowing that I would be setting up my apartment and, having nothing, needed everything.  But Mom gave me much more.  I have a piece of my history, my mother’s and my grandmother’s history.  I have a deep affection for that bowl, almost for the bowl itself.  I love each chip out of the crockery and the marks inside, the way the blue is fading.  I will almost always choose that bowl over any other even when it is the wrong bowl to choose by size or by design.  Some dishes you simply need a wooden bowl for in order to get the right roughness for blending ingredients, but even then, I will often choose my favourite and have less than perfect results.

Does it seem strange to be rising from my flu and the first thing I did this morning is walk to the kitchen and get out my bowl?  And now frankly I have talked about it for paragraphs!  Yes, something is deeply off centre in me!  Perhaps I just find the bowl comforting.  And in this world, I take comfort from what I can.  It makes me happy.  Hope you have a similar bowl.  

Sick, ugh

Well I’ve done it, I am sick.  The flu has me in its grip.  And the only consolation is that I get to reach for some homemade, butternut squash soup in the freezer and when I spread jam on my toast, I know I made it with my own hands.  It is incredibly important to me to know what is in my food and what I am feeding my guy.  I make all my own homemade jams and relishes.  I love the smell of a homemade soup on the stove simmering, promising relief and nourishment.  At this time of year, as the days are getting colder, nothing tastes quite so good as a big bowl of steaming soup and a thick piece of bread and cheese!  I am yawning as I write this so I will keep this one short.  I will be back soon; just have to fight off this pesky flu!

Do it for you!

The last couple of days at work have incredibly trying.  Last night I was so tired when I got home, I just ate something easy and then sat down on the couch and watched television, which is something I almost never do. Today I still feel exhausted.  It is just a really busy time of year at work with a number of things coming to an end but it is coupled with lots of pressure from other parts of the company and just the exhaustion of the end of the year.  I was sitting in a meeting yesterday at a round conference table.  I started looking at myself as a reflection in the window against the dark grey sky and realized, wait a minute, I am getting fat.  I actually tried to decide am I am getting fat or is it just the way I am sitting.  I think testing all these recipes is starting to show but in the end I was completely okay with the extra pounds.  Not that I won’t in a few weeks suddenly decide that it is a crisis and I need to lose the weight but right now I was perfectly happy with it.

It has become so clear for me over the last few days exactly how important this project is to me.  Work will always be work with its ups and downs, its stresses and rewards.  And work is important, good and a necessary part of anyone’s life.  But I realized this passion is just for me.  I will not make excuses for it but likewise, amid all the running around of the holiday season, the demands of work, home and friendships, I am always going to carve time out for my project.  It would be so easy to sacrifice it to the other demands.  But that is sacrificing something that is just for me, to give up what I love for every other priority, for something other.  I love what I am doing.  I hope others will enjoy what I have created when it is finished but first and foremost it is for me.  Something I am giving myself.  I want to do it just for me and if it feels selfish to demand that I make time for it everyday, then I believe it is a healthy selfishness.  I also realized I need to do this project.  It is my escape, my dream, my priority.  Of course I will have to figure out the balance.  I was angry the last two days that I didn’t have the time to dedicate to it but my realization this morning is that I gave away the priority.  I let others decide for me.  And I am taking it back.  I feel tired and probably sound tired.  But at least in tiredness I can see what gives me energy and chasing this dream and giving life to this passion is what will keep me interested, balanced, really my best me.  

Tea, cookies and the couch for me

What a craptacular day, a completely horrendous day today at work.  I was miserable all day and the grey, overcast gloomy day did nothing to improve my mood.  I walked in the door, pulled out my cream and blue crockery bowl and whipped up a batch of peanut butter.  I know peanut butter is pretty much taboo these days in a lots of place but honestly there is nothing like a peanut butter cookie.  I made some crunchy for tea and some soft and chewy.  My guy came home with our friend Carmela and we sampled them all.  It made the day seem a little brighter.  Otherwise I have done nothing on the cookbook today.  I think the rest of evening just looks like me sitting on the couch eating cookies!  

The pomegranate test!

Just a quick laugh, mostly tongue in cheek but perhaps also a little too true. Do you want to know exactly how much you love your guy, then offer to peel and de-seed a pomegranate for him!  I love pomegranates and it has become a tradition for my guy and I to enjoy them at this time of year.  But truly, standing in the kitchen de-seeding a pomegranate is like going through all the phases of dating and a relationship in the time it takes to prepare one!  You start off looking at it, admiring its rosy colour, its soft roundness, wondering where it came from and how it made its journey to you.  You cut into it and it sprays sweet juice all over the counter and your hands, giving you a chance to slowly lick your fingers and taste its promise.  And then the work begins.  You peel back the first layers of skin, exposing the seeds, but somehow you are always on the wrong side of the row.  You have to turn it around, and push them out with your fingers.  You start to get a rhythm only to come across a particularly thick-skinned area.  You start to get frustrated, wondering why you ever started.  You try not to glance at the other half sitting on the counter waiting its turn.  You back starts to twinge standing on the tile floor.  You recommit and keep at it.  You just focus on finding the right way to peel it.  One half done and you pick up the other piece.  You have learned how this one is set up and know where to attack the rows first.  This half seems easier; it is more familiar.  You don’t notice the time you are expending and somehow your back eases.  The bowl is starting to look full and you feel a sense of satisfaction at your progress.  You remember why you started, why you wanted to share it with your guy.  You are in the home stretch suddenly and you start to anticipate sharing the bowl together, your hands covered in a familiar sweet stickiness now, the bowl overflowing with promise.  You rinse your hands to say you are done.  Put two spoons in the bowl and walk to the living room to share the pomegranate, a smile on your face.  And you know you love him when he insists you take the first delicious spoonful.  

Life happens in kneading

It has been a pretty good day today.  I got up early when the house was quiet and my guy still sleeping and padded into the kitchen. I woke with thoughts of fresh bread in my mind.  I have always enjoyed making bread and so, this morning, I made some herb and onion bread. 

I am fascinated with bread.  Sifting the dry ingredients, I watch the texture of the flour change, becoming gradually softer, rounder.  Smelling the yeast sponge begin to expand reminds me of change.  Mixing it together, I marvel at how the dry and the wet at first clump, grab and finally stick.  Rolling it onto the counter in the flour dust is where the magic begins.  If you have never made bread from scratch before, you must at least once do so.  Life happens in kneading.  I know it sounds dramatic but, honestly, there is nothing in this world like the feeling of bread dough under your hands, moving from sticky and suddenly becoming elastic.  The dough warms and you can feel it start to breathe.  With each knead, your body rocks with the thrust and your hands cup this new feeling.  You inhale as your rock back and exhale as you push the knead through the dough.  It warms further under your hands and becomes something altogether different.  You can almost feel the moment when the loaf is born under your hands and you know intuitively that you are finished.  I love setting it in a warm bowl to rise, the smell of the yeast diffusing through the kitchen.  By the time my guy woke this morning, my bread had been kneaded twice and was ready for the oven.  It rose and baked as we sat talking, sipping coffee.

Now that I am married, I think bread is starting to mean something else to me.  In making it, I realize that it teaches me, through my hands, that I can add to our life, that I can shape our future, that I can create something entirely new from seemingly unrelated ingredients, create something that will sustain and support us. It is a determined act to bake bread when it is easily and more cheaply found at the grocery store but I believe it is this same determined action to create from scratch something new which will be the same impulse I need to make my marriage grow.  

Venetian marvels

I realized yesterday that I have neglected to tell you about our time in Venice during the honeymoon. Where can I begin to sing the glories of Venice or to describe the time we passed in her embrace?  How is that for a lead in!

We spent four wonderful days in Venice following our cruise of the Holy land.  Once our ship docked at the port, we disembarked and took a local vaporetto to the land quay at St Mark’s square and in the early morning sunlight wove our way through the narrow streets to our hotel.  Throwing open our shutters, and leaning out our window, we overlooked endless tiled roofs, the domes of St Mark’s basilica gleaming to our left and counted quickly four bell towers nearby.  As if on cue, the bells began to toll our arrival and I knew we were in for an incredible time.  

To be honest, although we did a bit of sightseeing, we mostly poked along the canals, strolling slowly together, stopping for frequent pastries.  Our first was a lovely lemon creamed, sugary confection that we shared, avidly licking the last morsels from our fingers, drinking cappuccino in the quiet, morning streets.  I learned that Italians generally only drink cappuccino in the morning, essentially taking their milk for the day, and for the remainder, espresso was on order.  We stopped to peer in store windows at shelves lined with nut and fruit chocolates, sweets, marzipans, giant meringues and nut filled pastries, at rows of cheeses, meats and oils, lined like orphans at a convent door, hair brightly slicked down, with pleading eyes, hoping to be chosen and taken home.  Bouquets of fiery, red chilies arranged like flowers made me laugh. We ate hot fresh pizzas, seated atop the portable sidewalks stacked around the city, anticipating flooding but just then unneeded, the cheese burning the roof of our mouths as we gulped it down, watching the water traffic near the Rialto bridge.  Evenings brought quiet, slow dinners, lit by candlelight, the fruity red wines slipping past my tongue.  In grocery stores, I smiled at cartons of eggs, four single eggs nestled together, making me think about our habit of stocking up rather than celebrating food each day with trips to bakeries, cheese shops and butchers.

One warm evening, we settled ourselves at a table for two, outdoors in St Mark’s square, the stars shining in the sky, the air warm.  Listening to a live quartet of strings play classical and popular music, we ordered refreshments to pass the night.  Arriving on a gleaming silver tray, an aromatic coffee for my guy and for me a tall glass of hot chocolate, liquid chocolate to be honest topped with six inches of whipped cream, garnished with shaved chocolate.  The carafe of cold water supplied along side was welcome, since this was one rich hot chocolate.  I will never forget the feeling of sitting there with the man I love, listening to sweet music, the tastes of chocolate on my tongue, his laughing words; it was a wonderful evening.  Food always finds its place at celebrations or in moments of intimacy.  

We shared that evening with a woman, a stranger who caught my eye.  She arrived in the square, and strode over to a table, her husband, lover or boyfriend in tow, to greet two friends already seated.  Her joy in seeing them was evident and I was fascinated to watch her chatting with them, touching their arms to make a point, catching her throat as she laughed, and as if on command, food arrived and added to their pleasure.  For ourselves, we spent the rest of our time there, wandering the city slowly, stopping to enjoy food and each other, exploring the local areas away from the tourists, in sunshine and under grey skies, days filled with misty weather.  We left in the early hours one morning, St Mark’s square flooded, hauling our suitcases upon the elevated sidewalks, the glow of the lamps shining on the dark water lapping in the square.  It was a marvelous time, filled with wonderful food, with new sights and experiences, with time spent alone.  If you can believe I took as many pictures of food as sights in Venice!  It showed me that slowing down is what fills life with its moments, and made me realize that the recipes in my cookbook and the time to create the book both should be filled with a reverence for the moments they create.