Honeymoon

It’s morning, and here I sit, in front of my computer, my guy still sleeping in the other room.  It is the day before our honeymoon and I woke up smiling.  I feel so blessed right now.  I was single for a long, long time, and frankly had a very fulfilling life, filled with family, friends, travel, work, all my interests.  And then by chance I met my guy, and chance changed my life.  I am the same and changed.  And tomorrow we leave for our honeymoon, three glorious weeks of simply celebrating us. 

At our wedding reception, in our thank you speech, I talked about how marriage is a separate thing, sacred and living, and now I am beginning to see how true that statement was.  In ways I cannot yet describe fully, I can begin to see glimmers of the life we will build, the support we will feel, the love shared, the difficulties faced, the moments cherished. 

Sitting here typing, I am acutely aware of how much two have become one.  And in that joining, one has become so many.  I have begun working on my first cookbook, a venture that seemed fairly straightforward: a process of recipes and cooking, layouts and photographs, legal requirements and advertising.  I underestimated it.  Already it is changing me.  I have met amazing people from this blog and my Facebook page who have written me and told me about their experiences, their journeys into cooking and relationships and how they have been touched by or relate to my ramblings here.  I have received support and encouragement.  I have been urged to write every day, that people feel connected and want to know how it progresses and what is next.  I didn’t expect to be part of a community.  I didn’t expect the blessing of not feeling alone in this journey. 

Every day when I sit down to write this blog, I feel connected.  I didn’t expect recipes and writing to make me feel so connected, on the other hand, I know how connected preparing, sharing and celebrating food can make us.  This journey is making me even more respectful and appreciative of my family, my friends, my new friends here and how intrinsically cooking has influenced and shaped my life.  It is instructive and revelatory.  This whole experience makes me smile and I am so happy you can join me.

We are leaving tomorrow and today I want to finish off my loose ends on transcribing some recipes I have selected.  I know when we return I have many more to transcribe, I have to learn InDesign, arrange photography, complete all the legal and selling requirements and the list goes on.  I know most of the work is still ahead of me.  But I now know, with great certainty that the best is yet to come.  I am so excited that I finally tried to do this. 

Off to Venice tomorrow so this will be my last entry until we return.  I truly hope you will be here ready to provide the shoulder to lean on when we get back.  For sure, you can expect ramblings about all the great food we ate while we were away!  This morning I want to say thank you and I will see you soon, my friends.   

Getting hungry

Woohoo, I am getting excited.  We leave for our honeymoon in three more days.  We married at the end of July but have waited until now to go on our honeymoon.  And I couldn’t be more excited.  First, and obviously, I get to spend three glorious weeks with my guy, cruising the eastern Mediterranean.  But, oh the food.  We are flying first to Venice where we board our cruise.  After two days at sea, we dock in Egypt where we are going to have two full days and already my love of history and my love of food are competing.  Imagine the date filled desserts, the food souks, the spices, the falafel, hummus, tabouli, and the lentils.  From there we got to Israel for two further days, more glorious food to sample, olives from the Mount, kosher salt on hot pitas, the place where Jewish, Arabic and western cuisines mingle, the kebabs, the honey desserts.  Then we visit Athens where I can have all my favourites, making Soula proud and finally a day in Split for Croatian desserts, plum wine and new delicacies I don’t know about yet.  I hope I get to take a cooking class on board the ship as well on one of our days at sea.  And finally, we have a few extra days to enjoy Venice on our own, just us, a quaint hotel, gondolas, crooked streets, and espresso in the squares.  Cool evenings with warm meals, and just us.   I love my guy dearly and can’t wait to spend this time away.  And besides I can always entice him to try all the morsels that I am eyeing.  I know I will have many detailed reports of my new obsessions once we get back from our travels.  We leave Sunday, so counting the days.  Wish you could be there to sample with me.  I love eating, obviously, we better do a lot of walking or I will be just that much bigger by the time we return!

Of tomatoes and learning

I was eighteen when I left home for university, a young eighteen.  Having grown up in the country, when I arrived at university in the city, I had never ridden a city bus, been in a taxi, lived in apartment or even eaten Chinese food.  Everything was brand new to me.  

While at school, I made friends with an older student in my Greek literature class.  Looking back, she probably wasn’t even as old as I am now but, at the time, she was a mature student.  Christina, whose nickname was Soula, was Greek by heritage and soon became a close and trusted friend, despite our age difference.  It was through Soula that I had my first taste of a cuisine from a culture other than my own.  I suppose I ate spaghetti and lasagna as a child but I would hardly typify those samplings as Italian food and so Soula’s Greek food had the feel of the exotic to me.  I can remember distinctly my apartment at school and how we would, late in the afternoon, after classes had finished, return to my kitchen and prepare garlicky pork roasts or simple chicken soups, flavoured with lemon and fresh eggs whipped into them.  In particular, I remember the tomatoes.  

Regularly, Soula would turn up with a bag of bursting ripe, red tomatoes from her garden, a firm, cool cucumber, a sweet red onion.  Into a large bowl, we would chop them up, the tomatoes spilling their juices across the bottom of the bowl.  With some olives, oil, cheese and seasoning, we would let this salad sit in the sun on the counter by the fridge and let the juices marinate.  Salt would tease more juice from the tomatoes till the bottom half of the salad was swimming.  We would carry the whole bowl into my front living room, where we would sit often sit on my plush green shag carpet, forgoing the luxuries of my hand-me-down orange couch without legs.  We would break apart a large loaf of crusty bread and, each of us armed with a fork, would enjoy the salad directly from the bowl.  

When we could reach it, we would dip chunks of bread into the tomato juices, soaking up the summer sun and the reflected sun of the Aegean that nourished the olives and the oregano, lifting these delicious morsels to our mouths, tomato juice running down our arms.  We would eat the whole bowl this way, talking about virtues of the Aeneid or the differences between Doric or Corinthian columns.  All my memories of both my degrees seem to be framed around food.  And here I have come full circle.  My instruction manual on InDesign has arrived and thinking about tomatoes reminded me that I am able to learn when I put my mind to it.  And when I am motivated knowing that at the end, there will be a good meal waiting.  I better run, time to prepare dinner.  

At your mother's feet

We went to my parents yesterday for dinner.  I got the opportunity to talk to my Mom about my new adventure in cookbook writing!  It wasn’t long after we started talking that I was sitting on the floor in front of her old washstand and pulling out her old notebooks and recipe cards filled with all the meals I grew up on.  If you can imagine, my parents have been married for more than forty years.  Imagine if you can the number of meals my mother prepared, feeding her husband and us four kids.  Between breakfast, lunch and dinner, over the years, I imagine my mother has prepared over 43 thousand meals!! Talk about feeding your guy!  I have to admit she has definitely slowed down in the cooking department and my father picked up the reins.  But I certainly realized, sitting leafing through her recipes, we all owe her a huge debt of thanks for all those years of care.  I can hardly imagine myself giving half as much or as willingly.  I am sure over the next while I will be reflecting more on Mom’s gift to all of us.  Now that I am armed with even more recipes and memories, I have to get myself disciplined this week to keep at it.  Work is really busy this week and I have a slight resentment towards work despite the fact that I generally quite like my job.  My day job seems to be getting in the way of my passion!  And only five more sleeps till our honeymoon.  Lots of reasons to not sleep at night now!!!

New expectations

We had a wonderful time last night at the wedding but this morning I have awoken in a panic.  So many friends were supportive of my goal of producing a cookbook, with many of them already promising to buy a copy when it finally get released.  People laughed and talked about my plans and some even commented on this blog.  People who I didn’t even know were reading it.  But honestly, I have woken up this morning with a feeling of being overwhelmed.  It feels like I publicly promised to complete this project and today all I can see is all the work I have left to do!  I have kept my promise to myself to work on transcribing recipes every night.  I know this week my instruction manual from Amazon will arrive and I will have to start learning InDesign.  I want to send an email to my friend Lesley, a brilliant photographer who did our wedding photos, to see if she would shoot the cover for the cookbook. I have to think of a location to shoot, what props I will need, what food I have to prepare. Where do you hire models or should I use friends?  And I am thinking about copyrights, and ISBN numbers, and commercials I would like to shoot for YouTube to promote it, and creating a comprehensive list of newspapers and magazines in the US, Canada and the UK to which I can send press releases.  And what about advertising, what will I do?  How can I get any celebrity endorsements, is it worth it?  I don’t even know really how to write the publisher’s notes that accompany the product description on Amazon when the cookbook finally gets loaded for sale.  And then there is the publisher.  I am so nervous I will screw up the cover art and the book insides that when it is finally published it will be all cock-eyed.  See I am over-thinking right now, thinking of all the things to come even though I told myself to take it one step at a time.  I think somehow last night talking about it, and having acquaintances, friends and strangers already coming up to me and saying, hey, you are the one writing the cookbook, made me realize that it is taking on a life of its own and I almost have a responsibility to finish.  That it is bigger than me.  That it is already changing me, how others are defining me, and worse, what others and most importantly what I expect of me.  Ugh.  

Off to a wedding

I woke pretty excited today.  We are going to celebrate the wedding of our good friends, Rose and Chris.  We have been waiting all summer for this event to arrive and suddenly it is here.  There will be a beautiful church wedding at one o’clock and then the reception starts at five.  Rose has Italian heritage so I am hoping for a food extravaganza!  I had to get out my fat clothes this morning for today’s wedding, but I am completely okay with it.  Besides, fat clothes have extra room in them for tonight’s buffet!  I am so happy for them.  And now come to think of it, Rose is beginning the journey of feeding her guy as well!!!!  Gotta run, join me in wishing them both every happiness.  Congratulations Rose and Chris!

Friendly Acres

When I was a teenager, I worked at a summer resort for seniors in the country, near where I was raised.  The place seems like a dimly remembered dream now, a place from the past, a place where I spent every summer during high school, earning money to pay for school clothes and to save for university.  Friendly Acres, yes that is what it was actually called, was a sort of summer camp for seniors. It provided an opportunity for seniors who typically lived in the city all year long a chance to escape to the country for twelve days, to enjoy the peace and quiet, to take daily excursions, to eat hearty meals, to get some youthful colour back in their cheeks, to feel less alone.  The place was sponsored by a church in the city and their days were filled with song, crafts, prayers, entertainment and the great outdoors.

It was my first paying job and, when I started, I worked as a gardener which, to be honest, I was little more than a weed puller.  I spent many lazy, hot, July and August afternoons sitting between rows of green beans or tomatoes, weeding and day dreaming.  My third summer, Marilyn, the woman who ran the place, asked me if I wanted to work in the kitchen.  I remember so clearly that kitchen with its big, eight burner gas stove, the chipped, white enamel cupboard doors, the clanging noise of the pots in drawer when I had to pull too hard to get it unstuck, and the little wisps of white flour that were always in the corners under the window.

It was in that kitchen that I learned to cook.  I perfected my pie pastry recipe while listening to the wisdom of old women who insisted my pastry flaked so well and was so light because I had it “in my hands”.  Pie pastry became a great mystery and a blessing bestowed on the very lucky who had the right hands.  I learned to make stews, bread puddings, and cookies without end.  We served three meals a day and a morning and afternoon snack. Tuesdays I would bake bread, Thursdays pies for the weekend.  Because the guests only came for twelve days, another busload would arrive and the menu would start again.  I had a lot of practice!

In the dining room, we had a rope which hung from the ceiling and when pulled would ring a bell atop the peak of the roof, calling the seniors to dinner.  The newest guests would wait for the bell before coming to the dining room but the old hands would already be on their way up from the lodge, like cows coming back to the barn at twilight.  We sang grace before every meal to remind us all to be thankful for the food we eat.  We had a large pass-through from our counters into the dining room so we could watch the diners enjoy their meal and gauge when to serve dessert.  Through that window, I would watch the winter-thin become plump, the pale become rosy and the quiet become talkative as the days passed.  And when finally they were heading home again, they did so rested, fuller, healthier and re-connected.  It was at Friendly Acres that I learned that good food and eating together connects us, creates community, heals unseen ills, animates us and gives us the strength to return to our daily lives.