on my spoon

Update - Who says the 'burbs are boring???

2011-08-03T13:10:00.000-04:00

An article in the local paper last week suggested that the grow-op drama in our neighbourhood was almost over:

Woman gets conditional sentence in grow-op case

KITCHENER — A Kitchener woman received a lighter than normal sentence Wednesday for producing marijuana because she was controlled by her husband who was felt to be the driving force behind the illegal business.

Susanna Davis, 35, pleaded guilty in May to producing marijuana and possessing the drug for the purpose of trafficking.

She was given a four-month conditional sentence Wednesday in Kitchener’s Ontario Court.

She and her husband, Andrew Davis, had 221 plants at their ------ Street home in Kitchener, which police discovered when they raided the home in June 2010.

There was also harvested marijuana, cash and related paraphernalia.

Andrew Davis also owned a home on Westvale Drive in Waterloo where police found a second grow operation after receiving an anonymous tip.

He was given the equivalent of an 18-month jail sentence in May.

Federal prosecutor Bob Johnston agreed to a much more lenient sentence for his wife.

“Her sentence is at the lowest end on any case I’ve dealt with,’’ considering the scope of the operation, Johnston said.

“It was apparent who the driving force behind the scheme was.’’

Justice Michael Epstein noted Susanna Davis left home at an early age to live with Andrew Davis, a controlling man addicted to drugs.

She tried to dissuade him from growing marijuana, but became a reluctant participant when he refused.

While under house arrest for four months, she will have a curfew from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.

“I deeply regret what I’ve done and ... hurting all the people around me,’’ she said.

dwood@therecord.com

One of the unfortunate things about how long the system takes is what happens to the property. Raided a year ago, the house has been sitting with no heat, no hydro, no air conditioning, and all windows closed for over a year. With the freezing temperatures this past winter and the heat and humidity this summer, there seems little hope that anything other than the bare bones will be salvageable in that house. Now that sentencing has happened, perhaps the house will get the attention it needs. But the City of Kitchener owns an estimated 80 ex-grow houses, so it might be a long wait.

Neighbourhood gossip would have us believe that there's another grow-op, behind and a few houses up from us. I don't know if it's true - it seems almost impossible that someone would be stupid enough to start another grow-up a stone's throw from another - but if it is, I'd bet that the same neighbours that called the police the first time will do the same thing again. I won't be sorry to be gone when that goes down - once in a lifetime was enough.

Goodbye Kitchener, Bonjour Paris (Ontario)

2011-08-02T13:29:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, when I was poor and single, I lived in Cambridge a little old house with a huge yard. My backyard was a gardener's dream - an English woodland garden oasis in the city. My little old house was a good little old house, but it was a crumbly little old house. On really windy days, bits of it would blow away - a shingle here and there, a chunk of fascia, a hunk of soffit - you get the idea. It was a sturdy house, but in need of some love and attention.

At that time, I was also pretty depressed. Not because I was single - single life has its benefits, and over my decade of single living I settled into spinsterhood quite nicely - but because it's something I live with, and it has its peaks and valleys. I deal with depression by cocooning and hiding from life. Small tasks appear large. Moderate tasks insurmountable. Big tasks - well, big tasks made me stick my head in the sand. So the house got more run down. The garden got more overgrown. I would look at the list of things to do, go out and purchase the necessary tools, then come home and have a nap.

After almost a decade in that house, I met my future wife, and we started house shopping. When I was growing up, I always envisioned myself living in a big brick Victorian, but the reality of my crumbly wee cottage knocked that out of me. So we went with the other extreme - a brand-new, fully loaded model home in a new subdivision. At first, it seemed like paradise. Nail pop? Call the builder. Crack in the porch? Call the builder. Faucet in my luxury soaker tub too short? Call the builder. I didn't have to worry about anything blowing away in the wind, or leaks in the basement, or the unexpected expenses an old house can bring.

Earlier this year, I was sitting in my postage-stamp backyard, planting my tiny veggie & herb garden, enjoying the singing of the robins and the red-winged blackbirds, when Stereo Wars began once again. In one corner, we had Cuban salsa, and in the other, Indian techno-pop. Now I don't mind either of those things, but together they make hideous disharmony. Grinding my teeth, I went back into the house and logged onto MLS.

Since that fateful afternoon, our wonderful realtor found us the perfect house in Paris, and we have sold our current home. When I was leaving my wee cottage, even though it drove me crazy, I felt (and very occasionally, still feel) nostalgia and the occasional twinge of sadness . I've felt no such things - yet, anyways - about our current home. From the guys behind and two houses up who were drinking beer and making fun of my laundry on the line, to the fact that there probably is yet another grow-op in the neighbourhood, nothing has made me sad. Our house is beautiful, but never really felt that much like MY home.

So in a couple of months, we're off to Paris to try small town living on for size. The house is still a newish one - 12 years old - but it has a beautiful lot and a much cozier feel that felt like home as soon as I walked into it. It was built by a smaller, local builder who lives within walking distance from our new house, not a huge faceless bulk builder. I can't wait to get my hands on the garden, to put up pictures and unpack books, to pick paint colours, and to enjoy the peace and quiet with my wife and our cats.

And if the stereo wars travel to Paris, well, there's always Greenland.

Who says the 'burbs are boring??

2010-06-26T01:48:00.001-04:00

Two years ago, my partner and I bought a house in a new subdivision. We're on the edge of the subdivision, with a nice view of lots green space, and a fabulous, quiet neighbourhood with wonderful people.

Mostly.

Nothing brings neighbours together like a crisis. Last year, everyone in the neighbourhood gathered outside to watch a major house fire behind us. We had already befriended some of the neighbours, but we met many more that night as we watched the flames and the firefighters at work. Tonight brought a different kind of excitement, and some new friendships.

Back in November, we got some new neighbours. Despite having lived near them for six months, I wouldn't know them if I fell over them - they snuck in and out of the house via the garage and never did anything outside (they hired a landscape company to mow, and someone else to handle the ice and snow). We never knew their names, they rarely put out garbage, and outside of a brief conversation in the winter about parking, we never exchanged even a hello. Once winter passed, we started to notice strong skunky smells emanating from the house, and we realised we were living next to a grow op.

Personally, I believe that marijuana should be legalized. But with the effect that grow ops have on property values and the element that a highly organized operation can attract, not even a strong supporter would want a large-scale grow op in the neighbourhood. The neighbours all talked; we knew it was just a matter of time before the bust happened. And tonight it did. I was on the phone with my mom, and while we were chatting I heard a lot of yelling and crashing around. I assumed it was some overenthusiastic footie fans celebrating or commiserating with a little too much alcohol. It wasn't until I got a text from a neighbour that I knew what was going on.

By the time I got outside, the neighbours had already been arrested and taken away. The yelling was more along the lines of "Police! Search warrant! Open up" and "Get some clothes on". The owner's parents came to pick up the old dog - honestly, I was more worried about the old dog than anything else - and once they were gone, the cops got to work. It was interesting to watch all the equipment being pulled out of the house - giant carbon air filters, countless lights, fans, and humidifiers, and armloads of weed - and the police were great about answering our questions.

I have to admit that I'm grateful that this is over. Now we wait to see if our neighbours come back; many of these houses end up in foreclosure and the owners never return. I suspect that if they do come back that they'll be just as scarce as before, but with their income gone, they probably won't be there for long.

I'm the first to complain about rubberneckers on the highway, holding up traffic when there's an accident. I guess I'm no better. But it's impossible to tear yourself away from an event like this in one's neighbourhood, whether it's a fire, a drug bust, or something else. And I can't help but wonder what the next crisis will be. One thing I do know - we'll all be out there rubbernecking again.

Gratitudes for March 26th, 2010

2010-03-26T14:05:00.001-04:00

I'm feeling particularly cross today, so it's time for some gratitude. Today, I'm grateful for:

A lovely, safe, home to keep clean (even if the person who is being paid to keep it clean is too dumb to know how to set an alarm without setting it off and having the police be dispatched resulting in me being charged $50)

A security alarm to keep me safe (even if the stupid alarm company people forgot to update our phone numbers to prevent unnecessary police dispatches that cost me $50)

Eco-friendly cleaning products that won't harm our cats (even if what needs to be cleaned up is the cat pee in the front hallway that happened because the cleaning person forgot to put the baby gate back up while not setting the alarm properly)

A working telephone (with which to phone said cleaning person to tell her she's fired and to give me friggin' key back)

Telephone banking (with which to put a stop payment on the cheque for said cleaning person to make up for the aforementioned $50 charge caused by her inability to press a button labeled "STAY")

Ah, much better.

Tea and gratitude

2010-03-15T22:00:00.001-04:00

A couple of posts ago I decided to diversify my blog in hopes of writing more regularly. One of the reasons for this is that my friend Frank, a great blogger and overall excellent dude, added me to his blogroll, so now I'm feeling pressure to publish. I am not complaining - I thank Frank for his encouragement and hopefully this will motivate me to write more often. But no matter the subject of the post, I'm sure food will come up in one way or another, since it's one of my favourite topics of conversation.

I suffer from, and have for most of my life, an acute depressive disorder with soft bipolar tendencies and moderate OCD. I have accepted that medication will always be a part of my life, but I want to work on my problems cognitively, because the meds can only do so much. There are many reasons to want to be well, such as wanting to make a happy home for my darling H, to cause less worry for my loved ones, to feel as best as I can feel, and perhaps most of all to give me some measure of control over those black dogs that live in my dreams.

I've been particularly sad of late (no reason, just my demons, and the lack of any decent winter whatsoever) and I have wanted lots of low-key snuggly kinds of nights with H. So a couple weeks back I suggested we have a proper English afternoon tea for supper, and that we have it picnic-style on the bed in front of one of our favourite shows. So I made some fat, fluffly tea biscuits; we set a tray with Devon cream, homemade strawberry preserves, and of course tea. It was one of the most soothing, soul-satisfying meals we've had, and I found myself feeling grateful for so many things:

a partner who can weather my mood swings and gives me unconditional love no matter how prickly my behaviour might be

an abundance of food that provides not only nourishment but also comfort

a beautiful home where every room is comfy, safe and warm

a small herd of cats who make us laugh and feel loved, in their funny, furry feline way

It's amazing what a lift a little gratitude can give a girl. So I'm setting a new goal for myself. Once a day, in one form or another, I will express gratitude for something in my life. It's easy to forget life's blessings when the dogs are nipping at one's heels - and I am determined to make it part of every day.

A happy culinary accident

2010-02-22T20:22:00.005-05:00

I love mushrooms. In a serious, obsessive way. Some facts to prove this:

Last spring I spent over $100 on morels (and a bunch more on puffballs and maitakis)
Last spring I (by myself) ATE $100 worth of morels (along with the puffballs and maitakis)
I add dried fresh mushrooms to all sorts of inappropriate things - a few weeks ago, I put half a bag of dried morels into my Lipton Sidekicks

So as you can see, I have a slight problem, particularly where morels are concerned. But I digress.

Last week, we made pizza, and mine was, of course, covered with mushrooms, albeit the standard, run-of-the-mill white button mushrooms. After slicing some (and eating a bunch right out of the paper bag) I rolled the bag up, and promptly forgot about it.

Fast forward to tonight: we decided to have stuffed jacket potatoes for dinner, because I'm sick and was too lazy to make anything fancy, and Helena was shoveling the snow that finally arrived, just in time for winter to be over. You can imagine my dismay when I discovered the mushrooms, forgotten, on the counter. They were shriveled, dry and and spongy, and looked barely edible. But I had my heart set on them, so I decided to slice them up anyways.
They were barely sliceable, and most of them fell apart, but into the buttered pan they went.

Normally, I fry button mushrooms for ages, because they are so wet. But because these were left out in a brown paper bag, they had partially dehydrated, they browned up in a matter of minutes, even getting a little crisp on the edges. The flavour was rich and meaty and concentrated, much more earthy and delicious than I would have expected.

As an aside, I had forgotten what a satisfying and simple dinner this was. We had ours with broccoli, bacon, sharp cheddar and mushrooms, but I've had many fridge-cleaning combinations in the past that worked really nicely:

mushrooms, blue cheese, and a little mascarpone
tofu, sweetcorn, and sharp cheddar
butter-fried ramps (wild leeks), mushrooms, and goat cheese
asparagus, ham, and brie

Perfectly simple, and perfectly satisfying. Yum.

Guilt, my greatest motivator

2010-02-18T21:05:00.008-05:00

I'm sitting here, watching the Olympics with my honey and tweeting about nothing in particular, when this pops into my brain:

Update your blog, you lazy asshole!

This thought was followed by a wave of guilt.

Let's examine this:

I am a busy person with things to do. Like clean my house so I can find my freakin' Irish whistle and the rest of my books so I stop buying books I already have.
Hardly anyone reads my blog - my own fiancee doesn't even read it - so it's not like I'm really letting anyone down.
I'm not a particularly good writer. I should be reading, not writing.
There are things I'm very good at, and I should spend more time doing them.
There are things I should be trying to be better at, like knitting.

So why do I feel guilty? And why can't I give my blog up? I think it's the same part of my brain that makes me get up in the night to look through every book I own for the Goethe bookmark my mother gave me when I was sixteen, the same part that then makes me look online for its exact replacement, the same part that forces me to read the Lillian Jackson Braun mysteries even though they suck so hard they could take the chrome off a tailpipe.

And so here I am, giving this blog one last try. I may post about more than just cooking, because I am passionate about many things. And I'll try to make it prettier. I hope you like it.

Nuts & Bolts - my favourite holiday nom

2009-12-14T22:10:00.009-05:00

One of my favourite holiday memories is that of the time I spent baking with my grandma - and after her death, my grandpa - making our traditional favourites: nuts & bolts, shortbread, hello dolly squares and nougat. Now that they're both gone, I've continued with the traditions myself, and have added a few of my own newer discoveries to the mix. Over the next few weeks, I'd like to share them, and hope that maybe they'll inspire some new traditions for someone.

Nuts & bolts are always the first thing I make every year. This is a bad thing, because sometimes if I make them too early I have to make them twice. I'd like to say it's because I take them as hostess gifts everywhere I go, but that would only be partially true. I just can't resist them - salty, spicy, savoury handfuls of buttery goodness. See? Look at them, sitting there, tempting me - how can I possibly resist? They're the perfect accompaniment to cheesy Christmas TV specials and cold eggnog or apple cider. I'm not sure I've ever watched a Rankin-Bass show without at least a small handful of them.

Sara's grandma's world famous nuts & bolts

For this recipe, you need a very large roasting pan. Serves 1 to 100, depending on how piggy you are.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Ingredients:

3 lbs of nuts*
1 lb pretzel sticks
1 lb Cheerios
1.5 lbs butter
1 c. vegetable oil
1.5. t Lawry's seasoned salt (I only use this brand)
1 t. celery salt
1 t. garlic salt
1-2 T. Tabasco
1 t. cayenne (optional)

Toss the nuts, pretzels and cereal in the roasting pan.
In a small saucepan, melt the butter with the oil and the seasonings. Let come to a boil, stirring constantly. Immediately remove from heat, and drizzle as evenly as possible over the nuts etc.

Chuck the roasting pan in the oven. After 20 minutes, take it out and stir carefully - you don't want to pulverize the pretzels and cheerios. Bake another 20 minutes then stir, and a final 20 minutes.

These need to really cool to develop flavour - if you try them warm from the oven, they will seem underseasoned.

Store in a sealed container in a cool place - fruit cellar, garage, etc. If they're kept cool and sealed, they'll last a couple of months (unless you eat them). And how could you not want to eat these:

*I like to use 1.5 lbs fancy mixed nuts (no peanuts), 1 lb cashews, and 1/2 lb spanish peanuts. I never buy regular mixed nuts because I like to control the amount of peanuts

Cleaning out the cheese drawer!

2009-10-19T16:07:00.006-04:00

I am a complete cheese addict. You name it, I'll add cheese to it. One of my favourite recipes is a noodle bake with whatever cheeses you happen to have in your cheese drawer that might need using up.

Sara's cleaning-out-the-cheese-drawer noodle bake

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Ingredients:
6 cups extra-broad egg noodles (I like Unico, or No Yolks, but the latter seems pointless with so much cheese)
2 T. flour
2 T. butter
3 c. milk (best if warmed)
1/4 - 1/2 t. fresh grated nutmeg
1/4 t. cayenne
Fresh ground pepper to taste
2 1/2 - 3 cups shredded or crumbled cheese (see below for my favourite combos)
1/2 c. bread crumbs

Cook the noodles in salted water according to package directions.
Melt the butter in a large saucepan; when melted, sprinkle over the flour and whisk until smooth. Cook over a medium-low temp for a few minutes without browning
Very slowly, whisk in the milk, taking care not to allow lumps to form. If lumps do form, whisk the bejesus out of it until they disappear
Whisk in the nutmeg, cayenne and pepper
Bring the mixture to a rolling boil and cook for 5 minutes, stirring constantly and making sure nothing sticks to the bottom. Nothing ruins a beautiful cheese sauce like black milk skin.
Reducing the temp to low, whisk in the cheeses, a handful at a time, until incorporated. Remove from heat.
In a buttered casserole dish, put 1/4 of the noodles. Top with 1/3 of the cheese sauce. Repeat, ending with a layer of noodles.
Sprinkle the top with bread crumbs
Bake for 30 minutes, or until golden brown and bubbling
Eat!

My fave cheese combos:

swiss, mozzarella & parmigiano (tastes like fondue)
extra-old cheddar, jack & asiago
gorgonzola, mozzarella & parmigiano
brie, goat cheese & mozzarella

Mozzarella doesn't have a ton of flavour, but it gives great texture and stringiness to the sauce.

Note: If you don't want as much crunch on top, layer so that you end with sauce.

The passing of my Grandfather

2009-10-10T11:30:00.005-04:00

With Thanksgiving, a time for family and for gratitude, just past, I find myself missing my grandfather more than usual. I always miss him, but sometimes it crashes over me in a wave, and I feel the grief of losing him so strongly that it's as if he died just yesterday.

He and I were the closest of friends, and I chose to write a eulogy for the funeral. It may seem strange, sharing something so personal here, but somehow setting these words free to travel where they may feels right. And I hope it may inspire or serve as a reminder, gentle reader, to hang on to - and never take for granted - the brilliant, shining, and transient moments you have with those that you love.

Eulogy for Oscar

Someone once said to me that the parents of an only child were doing that child a disservice. She went on to say that I must have been lonely growing up without siblings, or even cousins. She was wrong, of course - being an only child meant that I had opportunities that I would not have otherwise had, that I learned to talk and relate to adults from a young age. And maybe, had I not been an only child, I would not have found in my grandfather one of my very best friends

Growing up, I spent a lot of time with Grandma and Grandpa. During the school year, we would have sleepovers - Gramps and I would eat greasy popcorn, drink root beer floats, and watch Dukes of Hazzard and Benny Hill. On rainy afternoons, we would listen to Chet Atkins and Spike Jones records, while we shot craps for nickels and dimes. In the spring, we would tromp through the woods and along railroad tracks, hunting the elusive morel.

But summers were the best. Grams and Gramps would steal me away for the summer to stay with them at Halls Lake. My parents would have to wrestle the horrible cottage country traffic on the 400 every Friday and Sunday just to see me. At the cottage, Gramps taught me how to drive his beautiful cedar strip boat. (The boat was too precious, however, for him to ever let me try to park it myself.) He taught me how to be a patient fisherman and how to net a trout that seemed almost as big as me. We would cross the highway and head into the woods to pick berries (most of which didn't make it back to the cottage) and drive out to the dump to watch the bears and their cubs. In the evenings we would cook our fresh-caught lake trout and watch baseball and Newhart. And when John Arbour was around, there were hours of euchre. Those days up north were among the happiest of my life.

But time stands for no man. I grew up and Grandma and Grandpa grew old. After Grandma died, Grandpa and I started to become friends of a different kind. We spent a lot of time alone together, going out for dinners, doing the Christmas baking, waiting for medical appointments. During these times, Grandpa painted vivid, colourful pictures of his childhood, his misspent youth, his love for and life with his beloved Ruth, my grandmother, his wild and crazy friends and their mishaps and adventures, and his work, in which he took great pride. He and I even made a day out of planning his funeral, laughing and joking about which casket liners would best match his blue eyes. Wherever we went, he introduced me as his best friend and financial advisor. While I don't claim to be the latter - I can barely manage my own finances - I am proud to have been called the former, and hope that I was at least half the friend to him that he was to me. And when we were together, we shared many secrets - he would tell me things that I was to share with no one, eyes twinkling, things he had told no one else. And he was delighted when I shared my secrets with him. In the years following Grandma's death, I got to know him not just as a grandfather, but as a person, and a dear friend.

He taught me many things over the years, more than just how to catch fish and shoot craps. He taught me that you really can teach an old dog new tricks, as I watched him adapt to life without Grandma, learning to balance his chequebook, write Christmas cards, and cook for himself. He taught me that while our bodies age, our spirits can stay young, as I saw in his friendships with the young men in his neighbourhood. He taught me that people really can change, no matter how old, as he became kinder, more affectionate, and more generous.

I am a far better person for knowing my grandfather. And I will miss him for the rest of my days.

Cheese doodles, the ultimate comfort-food companion to soup

2009-09-24T18:33:00.004-04:00

One of the reasons I'll never be skinny is that I like food I can really chew - and I'm not talking lettuce. I'm talking bready, chewy, jaw-cracking food. I ADORE soup, but to feel really satisfied by a soup-only meal, I need big chunks of carbs in some form. The solution? Doodles!

What is a doodle? Well, it's not quite a dumpling, not quite a noodle, and is entirely delicious in soup. The original doodle recipe came from the fantastic More-with-less cookbook (a cookbook which I highly recommend, by the way). I love the original, but as is my wont, I had to figure out how to incorporate cheese into the whole thing somehow.

I make doodles two ways, for two different soups. This is my ultimate comfort food, for when I'm sick, blue, cold, or grumpy.

Doodles for chicken broth
Homemade chicken broth
2 XL eggs
2 T. water
Hefty pinch salt
1-2 c. finely grated parmigiano-reggiano
Enough flour to make a very stiff dough

Whisk together eggs, water and salt. When combined, stir in the cheese. Add flour a spoonful at a time, until you get a stiff dough, maybe the consistency of bread dough. When the soup is at a rolling boil, using a spoon form quenelle-shaped balls of your dough and drop in the soup, coating the spoon with hot broth after each one. Cook until very firm.

Doodles for tomato soup
This is the same recipe, but instead of parmigiano, I use 1 c. very finely grated aged cheddar. I also prefer a stiffer dough for the tomato soup version.

And by the way, while I always prefer home-made tomato soup, there are times where I just have to break out the Campbell's. But convenience is no excuse for blandness - before reheating, saute a couple of tablespoons of minced onion with a dash each of thyme, basil, oregano and garlic salt. Simple, but it cuts the cloying sweetness of the canned stuff and adds great flavour.

Third time's a charm... maybe

2009-09-22T17:18:00.001-04:00

Good evening, Intertubes!

I find myself teaching a course in Web 2.0 applications for libraries. One of these applications is the blog, which as you know (and by "you" I mean "Heather", who is the only person who reads this) I very rarely update.

So with this brief statement, I recommit myself to my blog. And it's a good time to do so; since Facebook and Twitter have been blocked at work, I find myself with some extra 9-5 time on my hands...

It IS easy being green - fun at Toronto's Green Living Show

2009-04-25T21:06:00.005-04:00

My partner Helena and I went to Toronto's Green Living Show today with our good friends John and Heather. This was our first time going - I was so excited all week to go, and it didn't disappoint. We came away with (reusable) bags full of great stuff - eco friendly cleaning supplies, yummy organic snacks, shoes made out of recycled truck tires, and lots more.

As per usual, the highlight for me was the food. A food court of sorts was set up at the back of the show floor; tickets were available at 5 for $10. You could then wander from booth to booth, choosing what you wanted to sample in exchange for your tickets. There was so much to choose from: organic pulled pork, beer braised short ribs, sausages with mushrooms, wines and beer, baked goods, cheeses. But since I had already gorged myself on free samples, I decided to go with some lighter choices.

I chose three savoury dishes, all vegetarian:

1. Cottage cheese gnocchi with wild leeks, preserved lemons, and toasted hazelnuts from Organic Meadow. These gnocchi were incredibly light, like little clouds - and being Italian, I am right picky about my gnocchi. And to have wild leeks - or ramps - for the first time this year in such a delicate preparation was a real treat. They can be overpowering and VERY stinky, but these were young and sweet.

2. Sovereign Farms' Ontario greenhouse panko crusted tomato goat cheese on spring greens and balsamic drizzle. This was a lovely dish, but perhaps wasn't executed as well as it might be in a professional kitchen when made to order. This is definitely one I'll try at home - with a heavier hand with the goat cheese!

3. Ontario beet and apple salad with a walnut and sprouted pulse vinaigrette and goat cheese, from Reds, a Toronto bistro and wine bar. I actually dropped two tickets on this one - the goat cheese, which was generously served, required a ticket all on its own. This salad was outstanding - the beets were sweet and velvety, the apple tart and crisp, and the cheese smooth and tangy. It was topped with an amazing vinaigrette with sprouted lentils and chick peas, as well as some very delicate herbs and corn shoots. Had I not been so tired and loaded down with bags, I would have hung around until I got hungry again just so I could drop a few more tickets on this salad.

To drink, I chose a smoothie with honey and yoghurt from Jamie Kennedy Kitchen. The choices were huckleberry rhubarb and sour cherry. I chose the latter, which was perfect - icy cold, creamy with a great mouth-feel, and just the right amount of tang. I could have happily had a dozen more, but thought that I'd pick up some sour cherries at next Saturday's farmer's market and make it at home.

We are so fortunate in southern Ontario; here we can live the 100-mile diet relatively easy without giving up the best flavours our earth has to offer - well, except for chocolate, coffee, and tea. The show really inspired me to make the most of what we grow here, and reminded me of how delicious and satisfying food that is healthy - for both our bodies AND the planet - can be.

Recipe time! - Sara's roasted cauliflower soup

2009-04-24T12:14:00.008-04:00

We have a beautiful organic head of cauliflower in the fridge, so this weekend I'm going to make my favourite soup - roasted cauliflower. The recipe is drawn from an old Mennonite recipe, and I adapted it by roasting the cauliflower and adding some other vegetables, aromatics and herbs.

Preheat oven to 350

1 large head cauliflower
1 large sweet onion
1 large potato OR 1 medium celeriac
1 parsnip
4 cloves garlic
Olive oil, salt and pepper
Herbs of your choice - I like either dried herbs de Provence, or if available, some fresh thyme and rosemary, stemmed and finely chopped
6 cups good-quality chicken stock
2 cups cream, milk, or a combination
Dash of Worcestershire sauce
2 cups shredded extra-old sharp cheddar

Separate cauliflower into small florets and chop stems into 1 cm dice. Peel and chop onion, parsnip and potato/celeriac into similar sized dice. Peel garlic. Toss all veg with good-quality olive oil to coat, and sprinkle with herbs, salt & pepper. Put in a single layer on a large sheet pan or roasting pan and roast until soft and slightly browned.

In a large pot, bring chicken stock to a simmer and scrape all veg and their juices in hot stock, setting aside a few florets for garnish. When cauliflower mashes easily with a fork, turn heat off. Puree the soup with an immersion blender or in batches in a jar blender and return to pot. Stir in cream or milk and Worcestershire sauce, and gently reheat until barely simmering. Turn heat off and stir in cheese a handful at a time until fully incorporated. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Ladle into shallow bowls and garnish with reserved florets.

NB: if reheating after the cheese has been added, do so VERY gently over low heat so it doesn't split.

Very good served with toasted, buttered potato & scallion bread or other artisanal bread of your choice.

Blogging, take 2. Maybe this time it will take...

2009-04-07T16:43:00.001-04:00

I can't really think of a less appropriate time to pick this blog up again. I'm too busy and spend too much time on the computer as it is. And right now I have a migraine, so I'm sure this isn't helping. But I am a creature driven by compulsion; have impulse, will travel.

Anyhow, my latest venture, the one that is keeping me particularly busy, is teaching. I am a part-time prof at the library technician's program at Seneca College, something which I am enjoying very much. The students seem to be liking the class ok, too, though that could change when they get their last assignment back. But I digress.

So what brings me back to blogging, Gentle Reader? I suppose it's my dear friend Heather, whose Organical Foodie blog inspired me to get back on this to once again document my obsession for food. And cats. And books. And perhaps blogging, if things go as planned. And I chose today because I'm procrastinating, and more distracted than usual.

A big part of today's problem is that I had a particularly healthy lunch. It was filling, it was substantial, it was nutritious, it was unprocessed, and almost all came from my local farmer's market. I had a healthy snack at the mid-afternoon mark. I had my tea. So I should be happy, right? I'm looking after my body AND the planet. But the damn snack machine is calling me with its siren song, as it is wont to do at 4pm or so. We recently got a second machine at work, which was supposed to be full of healthy foods. Now, I'm no expert, but I'm fairly sure that Mrs. Lardvessel's X-tra Sugar Faux-Fruit Danish and Dr. Diabetes' Quintuple Choco-chip Buttermuffin don't qualify. There's no yogurt, no granola, no reduced-sugar-reduced-fat anything. I'm pretty sure the bad snack machine is better than this one. So what's a girl to do?

Well, today a girl gets back on the blogging horse, in hopes of staying on a little longer this time AND avoiding the demon lunch room. So now that I've frittered away the rest of my work day, it's time to go home where I can top up with a nice fruit smoothie while I plan dinner.

Good lord, when did I get a blog?

2008-04-24T15:21:00.004-04:00

Well, thanks for coming out. I've never blogged before, and always swore I would never blog as I didn't think anyone was interested in what I had to say. Well, I guess I was wrong, dear reader; either that or you're at work and are desperately trying to kill time until the whistle blows. Not that I would encourage such a thing...

On a related note, I'm procrastinating. I have a report to write for my boss, but have decided that documenting my obsessions for no one in particular is more urgent. I *was* having a productive day until I noticed that someone smelled bad, and that that someone was me. It all went off the rails at that point, so here I am. Usually, I would play Scrabulous on Facebook with my girlfriend, but RIM has decided that FB and work don't mix. So I'm left to drift alone and aimlessly on the world wide web.

It seems that every few months I take up a new project. It rarely lasts. (See my unfinished knitting & cross-stitch, the abandoned musical instruments, the partially filled photo albums...) But my obsession with food and cats and books never wanes, so maybe this one will stick. Hopefully I'll say something worthy of your attention once in a while.