Backseat Gourmet

Changes

2011-11-22T07:46:00.004-07:00

Why, hello there.

(If only I could have Jian Ghomeshi say that in his dreamy voice for you.)

You may have been wondering where I am of late. I have some good news and bad news. Which do you want first?

Okay, bad news (let's get it out of the way). This is my last post on Backseat Gourmet. I know, but it needs to be done. That's where the good news comes in.

#1 I'm pregnant! Yeah! Or mostly yeah. I don't enjoy being pregnant and with the demands on me physically of this pregnancy and mothering two crazy wild girls something had to give. But at the end I get a little creature that is so, so wanted and already loved by all.

#2 My first book is coming out in March! I managed to post through the writing of the book, but the promo and planning is also a lot of work. Combined with the freelance work I've got it means more demands on what little time I have, with what little energy I've got (see above).

#3 I'm still posting recipes and food related posts on a consolidated blog: Dining Room Empire. I will try to have a regular schedule of 1 food related post, whether that is a recipe or adventure or rant per week. While you are checking out new sites, you could also review my portfolio site. It includes links to my writing and a gallery of quilts.

This was not an easy decision. I've really enjoyed this blog, my readers, and the opportunities that have come out of it. But I'm not superwoman, despite my best efforts. So, thank-you dear friends and readers. Please join me at Dining Room Empire and we'll continue the journey together.

PS I've got a yummy recipe for Cranberry Vanilla Muffins with Orange up there...

Peeling Horseradish

2011-10-21T10:49:00.003-06:00

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember. (from Soule Mama)

Colour Days

2011-09-28T07:18:00.003-06:00

The Monster is now in Kindergarten! (Yes, this deserves an exclamation point. That's how we both feel everyday.) One of the first lessons they did was a focus on colours. To be honest, we thought this seemed a little simple, but I found her looking at colour everywhere, learning Spanish vocabulary, and seeing my personality manifest itself in her. There was a great need for colour coordination during these two weeks of school.

It was completely her idea to colour coordinate her snacks.

Red-Orange-Yellow-Green-Blue-Pink/Purple-Rainbow-Brown-Black & White

At the beginning of the week or on the way to the market we would brainstorm the coordinated snack options. The only one I was stumped on was black and white cookies. For one, I was too lazy to make them right after baking brownies for Brown day. And two, while I've got no problem with sweets I didn't think she needed them two days in a row. Thank goodness for Twitter. She was intrigued by the squid ink pasta in cheese sauce, had to have blood sausage explained to her, and threw up her nose at a black bean dip. It was an easy settle on black berries and feta.

She loved sharing her snack with the class and ate it every single day. Win-win!

Backseat Adventure - Sidewalk Citizen Bakery

2011-09-20T07:34:00.004-06:00

Down a street lined with offices, carpet stores, and body shops you can find, arguably, the best bakery in Calgary. It isn't so large that the smell of fresh bread comes through your air conditioning. But the line of cars and bikes outside the nondescript entrance on a Saturday morning, opposite the line of smashed up cars, is your giveaway that you've arrived.

Then you step in the door. It all seems so sterile and clinical because you walk right into the kitchen. There are bags of flour, sometimes loaves being kneaded, large ovens, and racks of trays. Then you see Aviv and his partner. The warmth emanates from them before they've even smiled a greeting. Before you've finished saying hello a hunk of bread, buttered and salted, is placed in your hand. And before you've finished that bread you're already calculating just how much of the other goodies you can fit in the paltry one shopping bag you brought.

If you're lucky you arrived at the bakery location early enough to grab a danish, cinnamon bun, and a cheese stick. Or maybe a scone is more your speed. Or, if you are my family, all of the above, plus a brioche, some bread, and a macaron from M for Macarons (They share the commercial kitchen space).

If you're really lucky, and you are my husband, and you ask nicely for raspberries there will be danishes covered with a crabapple and maple syrup cream topped with raspberries waiting for you when you arrive. And you will buy 4 of them.

Taking a weekend trip to see Aviv has become such a family ritual for us that it is the first thing the Evil Genius asks about once her Saturday morning cartoons are on. Sadly, for her and us, she does not sleep in that much, so we have a few hours to wait until the 10 am opening. My kind of bakery - it's not open ridiculously early. But don't wait too late or you might find yourself fighting over the last baguette and that's it. Sidewalk Citizen Bakery is only open 10-2/3 on Friday and Saturdays.

If you can't make the weekend trip to the bakery there are still options for gathering the incredible goods. In fact, you can find their stuff all over town! I first met Aviv when he started out delivering bread to offices off the back of his bike. My office all became addicted to his bread and I've been following him since. He still does office deliveries. He's also got a pop-up cargo cart that sets up downtown (check out his Twitter stream for times and locations) as well as selling at the Hillhurst Sunnyside Market on Wednesdays in season. For a full list of locations that sell his amazing products check out his site.

We are still making the journey as a family to the bakery. We love the chance for a visit, to buy more bread that one should eat in a day, a journey that takes us away from the manufactured markets and yuppie food we're used to finding. This is honest food, served by enthusiastic and kind people. It is kneaded and baked with love, full of the best things that can be found around Calgary (from Silk Road spices to crab apples from down the street). And damn, it's all so good.

Sidewalk Citizen Bakery

5524-1A Street SW

Corn and Swiss Chard

2011-09-14T07:07:00.006-06:00

There was a stirfry contest between myself, an elderly neighbour, and my three year old Evil Genius. I was losing. Taken down even in my dreams.

My stir fry was watery and being taken over by corn and swiss chard. A watery stir fry is unforgivable, but I won't apologize for the corn and swiss chard. It is a tremendous late summer/early fall confetti combination. Even if it meant that my kid beat me in a cooking contest.

The first time I made this it was with the first corn of the season because I wasn't sure the kids would be up to tackling corn on the cob. I've since been proven wrong, but this is also such a popular dish in the house that we've been having it at least once a week since the corn arrived. Technically, I've been having it twice because any leftovers serve as an excellent bed for poached eggs in the morning.

This has been an excellent dish to take advantage of our CSA chard, garlic, and herbs. When I combine it with some Noble Meadows goat feta and use Mighty Trio Organics Flax Oil instead of Olive Oil it makes a completely Alberta dish.

Corn, Swiss Chard, Feta, and Mint

Serves 4 as a side dish

3 cobs fresh corn (0r 1 cup frozen niblets)

1 bunch swiss chard

1/3 cup water

1 tbsp olive oil

1-2 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 cup feta cheese

1 tbsp chopped fresh mint

Shuck the corn, being careful to remove the silks. Standing the corn straight up on a cutting board, slice off the kernels. Set aside.

Remove the center rib from the swiss chard. If they are thin or you chop them small, you can use them here. Otherwise, discard or set aside for another use. Roughly chop the leaves.

In a large frying pan with a lid toss the swiss chard with a generous pinch of salt and the water. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes, covered. Uncover and add the corn. Toss well. Keep uncovered and cook for another 3-5 minutes until any remaining water is evaporated. Stir frequently. Add the oil and garlic and cook for 30 seconds.

Place in a serving dish and top with the feta and mint.

Butter (Wordless Wednesday)

2011-09-07T10:00:00.001-06:00

One Year

2011-08-31T08:20:00.006-06:00

I can usually hear the footsteps the second the feet hit the ground. A tiny body sliding out of her giant bed, stepping around the dog sleeping on the floor, blankets and Tiger in hand. She sometimes opens the blinds, the creak of the roller a dead giveaway, just to make sure it's morning. Then she stomps down the hall. It sounds like stomping, even though she barely weighs 30 pounds. Her hand grasps the knob on the door to my room. A short turn and she peeks in. If she sees me awake she quickly pops in the room, slams the door behind her, props her crap on the bed, and climbs in.

She usually doesn't say a word. Not until she is settled and snuggled beside me. Her face is glowing with a morning smile and she practically purrs with delight. We lay like that for a what is probably only seconds. Then she pops her head up.

"Mama, can we bake today?"

*******

One year ago I marked my first day as a stay at home parent. My husband left for work, to return more or less almost 4 months later. I was thrust into the role of full-time parent with no regular paycheque. It was an initiation, almost hazing, that no college student would ever survive. 24 hours a day, alone, with my kids.

Being home with my kids was never a reality I imagined. I was going to either save the world or make a lot of money working hard. For a while I thought I could combine the two. Then these little creatures emerged, growing with me, and encouraging a sense of self I never knew was there. Our family changed and the needs of the whole outweighed my desire to save the world. Instead I needed to work on just saving us.

So, here I am. A year in. Much calmer now - most days - and still working on keeping us all sane. I've had to revise my own expectations about what can be achieved by the family and by me, in our time. I've also blown apart my own thoughts about the pleasure this would bring me and the peace it gives my husband. I still wonder what the hell I'm doing and I don't love it every day. But I like it. A lot.

In this past year I've developed a whole new relationship with the girls, worked to define this new thing with my husband, and searched for a balance to my own desires and goals. It's been HARD. And that's not counting the disappointments, struggles, grief, and disorder that the last year also brought.

And I wouldn't change a thing. As hard as this life is, it is better. Much, much better.

*******

Peach pie, lemon cupcakes, muffins, scones, cookies, bread... We're baking it all. Practically something new every day.

The Monster isn't as thrilled with being in the kitchen as she used to be. If there is the prospect of chocolate she will join us. Otherwise, The Evil Genius pulls up her bright orange chair, rifles through the cupboard for her apron, and says to me, "So, what should we bake today, Chef?"

With the Monster starting Kindergarten this morning I see even more baking in my future. That kid will have the best snacks in her heart covered backpack. Full of love and most likely chocolate.

Nectarine, White Chocolate and Cardamom Scones

(adapted from the basic English Cream Scone recipe in the original Five Roses Flour cookbook)

Makes 16-18 kid-size scones

1 nectarine, chopped into 1/2'' chunks

3 ounces white chocolate, roughly chopped

2 cups flour (you can mix whole wheat with regular, but don't go 100% whole wheat)

1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground cardamom

1/4 cup cold butter

2 eggs

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 tbsp sugar

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment or a silicon mat.

Make sure your nectarine and white chocolate are chopped. Set aside.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and cardamom in a large bowl. Cut the butter into the flour. Frankly, we use our hands. 3 years olds are very, very good at this. You could also use a pastry cutter. Stir in the nectarine and white chocolate

Reserve 1 tbsp of egg whites in a small bowl, then beat the eggs with the cream. Add to the dry ingredients and mix well. The dough will be wet and sticky. Drop by heaping spoonfuls onto your prepared baking sheet. Leave 1'' between scones.

Brush the tops with reserved egg white and sprinkle with the sugar. Bake for 10-13 minutes until lightly golden.

A Fund for Jennie

2011-08-25T07:16:00.000-06:00

A few weeks back an on-line colleague lost her husband, suddenly. Jennie Perillo and her young girls are now struggling to define a new life without husband and died. Like me, Jennie is a food writer. Like me, she has two young girls. Like me, she shared a passionate life with her husband.

Right now a new not-for profit, Bloggers Without Borders, is raising funds for Jennie and her family. Food writing, let's be honest, isn't a lucrative job. But it is infinitely rewarding, on a daily basis. The goal of the fundraiser is to hopefully provide some security for Jennie and the girls as they move forward into a new normal.

Bloggers the world over are holding fundraising auctions and drives for donations to A Fund for Jennie. You can donate directly by clicking through on the button above.

Readers here at Backseat Gourmet may or may not know that I am also a quilter. I design quilts, write about quilting, and quilt at almost any moment. A Fund for Jennie has some amazing auctions, and while I'm proud of my skills in the kitchen and what I could share from it, a quilt is where my heart goes when healing needs to be done.

To see my work click on any of the gallery quilts on Naptime Quilter or take the time to explore the site for details on my creative process and thoughts on quilting.

This is my contribution to A Fund for Jennie:

A custom, one-of-a-kind modern quilt. It can be anywhere in size from a crib quilt to a generous lap size (roughly 60'' by 80'' or 70'' by 70''). I will work with you on a colour scheme or inspiration. The majority of it will be completed by machine, but I always hand finish my quilts.

You can submit your bid in the comments on this post. We'll make arrangements to make the donation through Bloggers Without Borders for the successful bidder.

Bidding opens at $500 (US or Canadian, it's pretty close these days).

To submit a bid, click here.

A Pie for Mikey

2011-08-12T17:48:00.004-06:00

You start out with an idea, a concept of where you want to take it. A taste, a feel, a look. A finished product to be savoured and enjoyed. Something to share, to show off, to take pride in.

You gather the things to make it, and you bring them close. You handle them, you edit, you cut, you taste. Add heat, maybe some sizzle, and quite often a long simmer. At many times will you season, highlighting the flavours and subsequent adventure.

Usually it gets messy. You are either the type of person who cleans as they go or the kind that has a third hand following them washing and wiping as you move. It doesn't matter, as long as you address the mess at some point.

Eventually you sit to enjoy. It isn't necessarily what you expected it to be. Sometimes it doesn't work and you have to start over tomorrow. Quite often it's better. Much better than expected.

One day it explodes. The pleasure is insatiable. The joy immeasurable. On another day it is more subtle, simple. It is good, but not great. The pleasure and peace, however, is there. It's lingering and comforting. Perfect.

At least, this is how my marriage feels.

My husband is my best friend and an incredible man. Kind, generous, a little bit wicked. Committed, driven, and horribly sarcastic. He owns his own business and used to race mountain bikes. But I always thought I'd marry a professor or snooty intellectual. We'd live in an old house filled with books and no kids. Obviously that isn't what I've got.

My man in my life and our marriage came about like a farmers' market dinner. One day you find something that looks fantastic and you go with it. And so we have, experimenting along the way. Some days it explodes with pleasure and some days it is lingering and comforting. Perfect.

Imagining a life without my husband nearly stops my breath. Cold.

And now there is a colleague, a friend I met through blogging, who is living this fresh hell right now. Her husband, the father of her two little girls, suddenly collapsed and died last week. She is feeling the immeasurable pain of loss, the unimaginable.

This pie is for Mikey, for her, for their girls. This pie was his favourite and it deserves a celebration. As does he, as does the love he and Jennie shared. Their recipe gave the world this pie. Let's celebrate.

The food blogging community - including those who live close to Jennie and are lucky enough to share a drink and pizza with her - are gathering around her right now. This is community. Today we are making pie. People the world over are taking Jennie and Mike's pie and making it for their own loved ones. They are adapting the pie for themselves, making the recipe for their own loves. In doing so we celebrate a man, relationships, and the spirit of adventure in love, cooking, and life.

A pie for Mikey.

Community (And Pickled Chioggia Beets)

2011-08-10T16:23:00.006-06:00

"Anti-social media."

That's what my husband says when you bring up Twitter, Facebook, Google + or anything that incites or requires interaction through a computer or smartphone. He is, at heart, a huge people person. His business requires near constant contact with people - all of which he prefers to do face-to-face or at least on the phone.

His argument is that people think they have friends that they make or maintain friendships through social media, but that it's just superficial. Indeed, he merely tolerates my stories of people I've never actually met. He's not discounting that, once you've met in person, a friendship can grow.

I'll admit, some days I completely agree with him. Then I get a note from someone who reads the blog that is full of more support than a friend I've had for years has given. Or someone I only know from on-line shows up at my door with food, when no one else does on a bad day. Or I am heavily impacted by a tragedy that rocked the world of someone else.

Always remember, there is a real person behind that on-line presence.

That means you can indeed form a relationship with someone you've never met. Will it be as close as the one you have with your best friend since high school? Maybe. Maybe not. But it will still be valuable and important for its own reasons.

On the days that I do see merit in what he says, I take a step forward into my community. Not my on-line world, but the one that is literally outside my door. I take a walk and chat with the neighbour. I grab a beer with another mom from the preschool. I call my brother or sister to just chat about our kids. Nothing can replace a face-to-face conversation.

Because of those conversations I have beet pickles today.

There we were, minding our own business, devouring my husband's hamburgers in the backyard. Our front door was wide open, the dog was probably sound asleep, and the kids were already performing after dinner hula hoop tricks. Suddenly the back door opens and one of our neighbours walks through. In her hands was a grocery bag full of chioggia beets and a big bowl of apricots.

With family in warmer climates and friends coming through she was left with a pile of produce from her folks' backyard. Too much for her and her husband, she brought them over to share. And she knows I would happily accept because we've actually talked before. We live on a street where most of us make an effort to know each other. So she knew I would tackle the colourful produce with gusto and none would go to waste. (There is an apricot crisp in the oven for another neighbour who just had a baby.)

This is my community. Embrace the friends you have when they need it, whether with a quiet note or the full force of your arms. Embrace the shared journeys. Embrace the beets they bring to your backyard.

This was my first time making beet pickles. Inspired by the Pickling Party, hosted by Shauna Ahern from Gluten-Free Girl, and my neighbour. The recipe is a mish mash of ideas from memory, Aimee from Simple Bites, and the Harrow Fair Cookbook. Even my cooking is an amalgamation of my many communities!

Pickled Chioggia Beets

Makes 3 500 ml jars

2 1/2 pounds scrubbed beets, tops and stems removed

2 cups white vinegar

1 cup rice wine vinegar

3/4 cup water

1/2 cup sugar

2 tbsp pickling salt

1 tsp coriander seeds

1 tsp mustard seeds

3 cloves garlic

rosemary (optional)

1. Boil the beets in a large pot of water for 25 minutes. Make sure a fork will go through the largest beets easily. Drain and immediately place in a sink or bowlful of cold water. Once cooled use your hands and, if necessary, a knife, to trim the skin from the beets. Slice and set aside in a clean bowl.

2. While the beets are cooking clean and process 3 jars and the screw lids in a boiling water canner for 10 minutes. Keep hot in the water while you clean and slice the cooked beets.

3. While you prep the beets combine the vinegars, water, sugar, salt, and seeds in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil and keep hot, hot until ready to use.

4. Quickly drain your sterilized jars. Keep the water boiling.

5. While they are still hot add a garlic clove to the bottom of each jar, then fill with beets. Stop filling 1/2'' from the top. Carefully pour in the pickling liquid, leaving at least a 1/4'' from the top of the jar of space. Wipe the rim of the jar with a clean cloth and screw on the lid.

6. Process for 20 minutes in a boiling water canner. Do not start timing until the water comes to a boil after you add your jars.

(Why didn't the skeleton cross the road? Because he had no guts!)

(Said skeleton keeping the almost pickles company.)

Fireside Pyrohy

2011-08-03T06:58:00.004-06:00

Glamping it ain't.

We went camping on the weekend. Our first time with the girls. A stunningly gorgeous spot in the mountains, right above the river. No facilities. That is - no water, no outhouses, no nothing. And it was awesome.

We had a chainsaw, bacon, kids, dirt, fire, toilet paper on a tree, fleece, and more bacon. Not much more is required for camping in our books.

Now we can also add fireside pyrohy to our camping must-haves. Boil the pyrohy at home. Toss with some canola or vegetable oil to keep them from sticking. Pack in the cooler, along with some chopped onion and perhaps a mess of swiss chard or kale with some garlic sausage. At the campsite it all comes together.

Because there is no camping without bacon, there will be bacon grease. In our case I was frying away for the little kids. Instead of dumping the bacon grease in the firepit I tossed in my onions and chard. After a minute I added the pryohy and sausage to fry up for colour and heat. Then I served it on my daughter's Lightening McQueen plate.

Good fuel for hiking, throwing rocks, and all the fun stuff on a camping trip.

Lemon Quinoa Coleslaw for Summer

2011-07-26T07:02:00.004-06:00

Summer is a fine time for picnics and nearly no cook meals. We're tired from the heat, we're lazy from the heat, and we're hot from the heat. Yes, you could eat ice cream or even strawberry shortcake for dinner, but sometimes we do need a little bit more.

This coleslaw fits the bill. It's fast and easy to make, makes use of only a few ingredients, is packed with protein, and is completely dinner outside appropriate.

The quinoa adds protein and added crunch. The lemon vinaigrette is a change from the typical creamy or overly astringent dressings usually found on a slaw. The choice of cabbage takes advantage of what you get from your CSA or the market. And unlike traditional coleslaw, which benefits from a rest in the fridge before serving, this slaw can be eaten immediately.

You still need to eat in the summer, make it easy on yourself.

Lemon Quinoa Coleslaw

(serves 6-8 as a sidedish or 4 as a main course)

Vinaigrette

3 cloves garlic

2 lemons, juiced

1 tbsp honey

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp dried oregano or 3 tbsp fresh, finely chopped

Slaw

1/2 cup red or regular quinoa

1 medium head Napa/Savoy Cabbage or Suey Choy (approximately 8 cups when thinly sliced)

1 can drained and rinsed chickpeas (optional)

Garnish

1/2 cup toasted walnuts

Finely chop the garlic cloves. In the bottom of a large bowl combine the garlic with the rest of the vinaigrette ingredients. Set aside while you prepare the rest of the slaw.

In a small pot combine quinoa with 1 cup water. Cook over medium heat until all the water is absorbed (8-10 minutes). Let cool while you prepare the cabbage.

Cut the cabbage in half from the root end. Remove the tough center portion. Using a sharp knife or mandolin slice the cabbage crosswise as thinly as possible. Don't worry is you have a little bit more or less than the predicted 8 cups.

Toss the quinoa, cabbage, and chickpeas (if using) in the bowl with the vinaigrette. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer to a serving dish and garnish with walnuts.

Seven Tips for Dining Out as a Family

2011-07-20T07:05:00.005-06:00

The first meal out for our family after having a baby was sushi. Our newborn slept in her car seat and I gorged on the fish that had been banned from my diet during pregnancy. It was bliss for everyone. Our last venture to that same sushi bar (last month) was a bit more raucous, with the girls not so quiet now. But they sat at the bar, ordered their favourite sashimi, and flirted with the host who gave them candy.

We can't imagine our lives without the opportunity to take the kids out for dinner. If we didn't take them we might not go ourselves with limited babysitting in town! But if you want to take your kids to a restaurant, whether it involves a giant golden M or serves fois gras, there are some basic guidelines. These are guidelines for parents, not rules for kids.

1. Start at Home

If you want your kid to sit at the table, eat, and not run around and scream at a restaurant table then you need to expect that behaviour at home as well. I know many a parent who struggles to keep their kids at the table, regardless of where they are sitting. While I can't provide any tips for getting them to stay in their seat - other than expecting the behaviour and enforcing it - if your kid can't sit at the table for 20 minutes then a sit down restaurant isn't going to be a successful venture for you.

2. Revise Your Dinner Expectations

When you take your kids out to dinner with you then your experience will not be that same as dinner out with your partner. There is no lingering over dessert, conversations are not usually about politics or money, and you will likely eat pretty fast. Dinner out with the family isn't romantic, but it can be fun. Keep your expectations in check, as well as your timing.

3. It's all in the Timing

Knowing when your kids need to eat and when they'll crash is important if you choose to eat out. Don't arrive at the restaurant at 6 if they are used to dinner on the table at that time. Be prepared to order an appetizer or the entire meal when they come by to take a drink order. And ask for the check right after your meal is served in case you need to make a speedy exit.

4. Choose Wisely

There is no need to limit your family meals out to fast food or even chain restaurants. Steakhouses, greasy spoons, and yes, fine dining are all acceptable. Do not take your kids to the best place in town if all they've ever eat are chicken fingers, you need to work up to that. Consider going to a nicer restaurant on a weekday, not on typical date nights on the weekend. Preview menus on-line or with a drive by to ensure there is something your kids will likely enjoy. Try brunch instead of dinner, it's faster, more likely to have preferred options, and is a more casual environment - even in a fancier restaurant.

5. The Art of Conversation

I'm not a fan of bringing toys and such to the restaurant, but I can see the benefit for other families. A run of the mill restaurant will sometimes provide the menu that can be coloured, or you could bring your own colouring book. Books, a small doll, a random car, or even an electronic device might also be effective in occupying your kids while you wait for food. It should go away when the food arrives though. We take the time in a restaurant to have a conversation - as effective as that is with a 3 and 5 year old. I also don't want to set the precedent that toys are commonplace when you go out for dinner. Each family will have to decide what is appropriate.

6. Lose the Kids Menu

Even the fanciest of restaurants sometimes have a kids menu. Ignore it. It may be fine dining, but they are often dumbing down the food in addition to smaller portion sizes. Instead, look to the appetizer or soup/salad portion of the menu. Alternatively, you can order one main course and split it among two or three children. Do not relegate your kids to a diet of chicken fingers or grilled cheese sandwiches. Or at least, save those for the nights you stay home when you don't feel like cooking.

7. Be Prepared to Leave

Yup, be prepared to get up and walk out without dinner. If your kids are misbehaving, whining, or generally being bad or disruptive, be prepared to leave without eating. Aside from showing restauranteurs and other patrons that you have control over the situation, you are also showing your kids that certain behaviour is not tolerated. Whether you let them eat dinner at home after that is another matter. (I would not, but that's me.) If you want your restaurant experience to be successful and repeated, then you need to set the precedent.

On the recent debate on Q, with Jian Gomeshi, Emma Waverman, and Simon Majumdar, the host and guests talked about a ban on kids in restaurants. While I squarely believe in the comments made by Waverman, it was this quote from Majumdar that sums it up. Restaurants want to ban kids, primarily because of crying and bad behaviour, and that "Boils down to wretched parenting."

If you want to take your kids out of the house - and we all need to at times - then you need to step up to the plate, plan ahead, and be clear on your behavioural expectations with them. A restaurant isn't always a break at dinnertime, don't treat it that way unless the kids are at home with the babysitter. Dinner out with the family is an opportunity for exploration, conversation, and treats.

Here and There

2011-07-15T08:14:00.003-06:00

Been looking for me lately?

Aside from my love for Twitter - oh how it fuels inanity - I've been out and about. Here are a couple of places where you can find recipes, cooking school features, and articles from me.

The Goat Gambol

Profiling part of the goat industry here in Alberta.

* Coincidentally, you could also participate in Goaterie as a great way to get your goat on.

Harvesting Rhubarb for the Bar

Take advantage of that back alley rhubarb in these refreshing cocktails and summer drinks. I am truly addicted and still scoping out unharvested rhubarb plants in the neighbourhood.

Both of these articles were written for the Taste Alberta series. I've got to admit, although I've been published in magazines, it was kind of special to see a byline in the newspaper I grew up reading, The Edmonton Journal. It was also neat to get the notices that the articles were picked up across the country.

You can also read weekly posts from me at What's Up Families. I especially like these cooking school posts I've been doing. Once a month I've been sharing info and cooking tips on a specific ingredient. In time for summer there is a post all about ice cream and one on taking advantage of summer greens.

Finally, I've also been writing for Delish Mag. This great lifestyle, on-line magazine gives me the chance to write about some fun topics. In this issue alone I was able to interview a great fabric designer and artist as well as talk about visiting farms! In the last issue I write about turning into my Baba and interviewed another designer.

Other places you will find me? Trying to tame both my overgrown tomato plants and my overblown children.

Hula Hoops and Strawberry Shortcake

2011-07-05T21:14:00.007-06:00

We ate strawberry shortcake for dinner the other night. Not for dessert, but for dinner. Just strawberry shortcake for dinner. And it was awesome.

Okay, I may have been more excited about it than the girls (Hubby was away). They ate their strawberries, picked at the shortcake and licked some of the cream. The Monster thought the macerated strawberries were a fun treat - I can suck out their juices like Jello, Mama!

I may have, ahem, finished theirs as well as mine.

And you know what? I don't feel guilty about this at all. It was a celebration of all that is awesome about summer. Days that involved nothing more than swinging, water fights, and mastering the Hula Hoop for the first time. Days that have your three year old running around the block naked because her clothes got wet and it's too much work to go inside and get new clothes. Days that end with dessert for dinner eaten outside with the sun in your eyes.

Strawberry Shortcake includes fruits, grains, and dairy. If that combo is more than okay for breakfast it is certainly fine for dinner. Of course, ice cream is also fine for dinner. Along with popcorn, pancakes, and cottage cheese with fruit salad. Dinner does not have to involve a protein, a vegetable, and a starch to be dinner.

Dinner has to be the gathering around the table; the moment when we stop, just for a second, to be together as a family. It is the time when we listen to a 5 year stammer through her excitement, the time we discuss pirates, a balanced diet, and why we can't fly to Australia for a day. It's the moment we refuel so the rest of the summer night can be spent with the Hula Hoop.

If I want to serve only dessert for dinner on a nearly perfect summer day, so be it. If you want to, then go for it. And if anyone complains or judges, then send them to me. I'll set them straight with shortcake.

This strawberry shortcake was probably the best I've ever made. I've made the shortcake a few times now, the recipe comes from Baking, by Dorie Greenspan. I've adjusted it to a more reasonable size for our family. It is about the flakiest, most balanced little biscuit cake in the world. Crumbly and fine, but with enough structure to hold up to juicy strawberries and ever so lightly sweetened cream.

Strawberry Shortcake for Dinner

Makes 6 shortcakes

1 cup flour

1/3 cup whole grain flour*

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

2 Tbsp sugar

1 Tonka bean, grated (optional)

1/2 cup (1 stick) cold butter

1/2 cups cream

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment or a Silicon mat.

Whisk the dry ingredients together in a large bowl. Cut the butter into 1/2'' cubes. Using your hands, two knives, or a pastry cutter smash the butter together with the dry ingredients. I use my hands and squish it through my fingers. My 3 year old helps. It takes only a minute or two and the dough starts to look like a mix of flakes, crumbs, and tiny knobs of crumbly butter.

Remove your hands from the bowl, grab a fork, and pour in the cream. Stir together. If necessary, use your hands again to get it all to come together. The dough will be sticky.

Spoon into 6 piles on your prepared sheet. Shape a little and press down gently so they are no more than 1'' high. Bake for 12-15 minutes, until golden. Let cool for a couple of minutes on pan, then cool for a few more on wire rack.

To make the shortcakes you also need strawberries. Any other summer fruit would also work. Go with what's fresh and in season for you.

2 cups clean and sliced strawberries

1 Tbsp sugar

Combine the berries and sugar, let sit while the shortcakes and baking and cooling.

1 cup whipping cream

1 Tbsp powdered sugar

1 tsp vanilla

Whip the cream until peaks are just starting to form. Add the sugar and vanilla, whip until lightly firm.

To serve, top a cooled shortcake with a generous scoop of berries and top with a large dollop of whipped cream.

*I used my favourite, Gold Forest Grains, but you can simply use all-purpose flour for the entire amount.

The Kitchen Counter (Wordless Wednesday)

2011-06-29T07:28:00.003-06:00

Just Icing

2011-06-21T06:37:00.003-06:00

Icing on a spoon.

Having been to my fair share of preschool birthday parties this year I've noticed that very few kids eat the cake when served to them. Sure, they are beyond excited when you take them away from their play with a call for cake. They eagerly sing Happy Birthday and watch the star blow out the candle. Then using fingers or fork or just their tongue all the icing disappears from the cake. All that's left is a soggy, messy pile of crumbs.

It doesn't matter that you stayed up until 2 am to make them the princess or pirate cake they begged for. It doesn't matter that you baked a gorgeous vanilla cherry cake with a recipe from Martha or Dorie Greenspan. All they want is the icing, or frosting, if that's what you call it. And then it doesn't matter if it is a gorgeous buttercream or from a can.

Instead of having wasted cake, get proactive. Just give them the icing on a spoon. Trust me, everyone is happy with this solution. Well, except maybe some parents who get worked up about sugar. But they are counterbalanced by those who are eager for a spoon of their own.

You might still need a cake because I haven't solved the problem of where to put the candles. Besides, they'll always be that one kid who hates icing.

With great thanks to some of my Twitter pals for the influence and egging on my icing only idea.

And Happy Birthday to my Mom, Brother, Brother-in-Law, and Sister-in-Law's Mum this week!

More and More Asparagus

2011-06-17T07:17:00.000-06:00

When it is in season we eat asparagus constantly. Just like we eat corn daily, strawberries, and tomatoes for their short seasons. Needless to say, I'm always on the look-out for ways to enjoy our favourite spring vegetable. Here is a round-up of recipes, both mine and others, that showcase this great green stalk.

--- Asparagus Risotto (Backseat Gourmet

--- Asparagus and Cherry Tomato Pizza (Simple Bites)

--- Shaved Asparagus Caesar Salad (Sassy Radish)

--- Stir Fried Chickpeas and Asparagus with Brown Rice and Lemon Tahini Dressing (Dinner With Julie)

--- Tuna, Asparagus, and New Potato Salad with Chive Vinaigrette and Fried Capers (Epicurious)

--- Asparagus Soup (Use Real Butter)

--- Pickled Asparagus (Food in Jars)

Go forth, gather, and eat while the eating is good.

Asparagus with Roasted Rhubarb Sauce

2011-06-16T07:18:00.000-06:00

They say that when in doubt, cook foods together that grow together. As we trundled along on our tractor ride at the most recent Asparagus Festival I couldn't help but become obsessed with the idea of asparagus and rhubarb together. There they were, in neighbouring fields and sharing space in my Edgar Farms bag on the way home. They begged to be joined in holy cookery.

The only problem with this idea is that rhubarb, no matter how you cut it, is a rather tart thing. And asparagus is far more mellow and sweet. It isn't always a case for opposites attract. But when it doubt, throw them in a roasting pan together. A little spice, a little sweet and sweat, and beautiful things can happen.

Roasted asparagus, however, isn't that great to eat. The texture is rather, um... pasty with a side of string. Not giving up on this relationship, however, the rhubarb transformed when it became a sauce to slink over and envelope the roasted asparagus. It also did well when covering pork tenderloin, but I'm not telling you about that. The asparagus would be upset to know the rhubarb went behind his back.

Asparagus with Roasted Rhubarb Sauce

Serves 4-6 as a side dish

1 bunch asparagus

2 large stalks of rhubarb (the pinker the better)

5 tbsp olive oil

2 tsp Chinese 5 spice powder

2 tbsp honey

1 tbsp orange juice

salt and pepper

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F

2. Clean asparagus. Trim rhubarb into roughly 4 inch lengths. Place on a cooking sheet lined with parchment paper.

3. Combine 1 tbsp olive oil, 1 tbsp honey, 1tsp Chinese 5 spice powder, and season with salt and pepper. Toss the asparagus and rhubarb with this dressing. Roast for 10 minutes.

4. When the rhubarb and asparagus are done roasting, blitz the rhubarb with the remaining 4 tbsp olive oil, 1 tbsp honey, 1 tsp Chinese 5 spice powder, and orange juice. Season to taste.

5. Pour rhubarb sauce over roasted asparagus and serve immediately. Reserve leftover sauce for a pork tenderloin, but shhh.... don't tell the asparagus.

Asparagus Pico de Gallo

2011-06-15T07:39:00.002-06:00

My Mom used to live in Texas. That isn't useful information to anyone, really. It does, however, explain how I came to know of Pico de Gallo. Until I went and spent my last university spring break with her in South Texas I thought that what you scooped up with nacho chips was salsa. In fact, at that point in time nachos were only served in bars, drenched in cheese, olives, and green onions with a side of insipid salsa and sour cream.

Oh how South Texas showed me the way.

First off, nachos are indeed what they serve in the bar. Fried tortillas are what nachos pretend to be. The tortillas that didn't get eaten that morning get cut into triangles and fried for snacks. Pico de Gallo is a bowl of finely chopped and uncooked tomatoes, onions, hot pepper, garlic, and lime. Pico de Gallo is always served with those fried tortillas. Sit on the beach in South Texas where you can order any beer and it will come with fried tortillas and Pico de Gallo. It is about the most perfect bar food, beach or not.

I'm nowhere near a sandy beach and I'm pretty sure any Texan would shoot me for this addition, but here you go: Asparagus Pico de Gallo. I was craving the spice, I had the fried tortillas, and I was staring at a large bunch of asparagus in the fridge. All that was left was the beer. And, of course, the beach.

Asparagus Pico de Gallo

Makes 2 cups

10 stalks asparagus (choose the skinny ones)

2 plum tomatoes

1/4 medium red onion

1 clove garlic

1 jalapeno pepper

1/2 lime

1-2 tbsp chopped cilantro (optional)

1. Steam the asparagus for 1 minute, if you prefer not to eat it raw.

2. Finely chop the asparagus and tomatoes into 1/2 dice or smaller. Keep the tips of the asparagus intact. Finely chop the onion, garlic, and pepper. Toss them all together in a bowl.

3. Juice the lime and add the juice to the vegetables. Add cilantro if you're using. Stir once more and serve.

Asparagus, Dill, and Feta Quiche

2011-06-14T07:16:00.000-06:00

Eggs are always a go-to meal in our house. We always have an abundance from our biweekly delivery from Elmar, the Eggman. With asparagus at its peak right now the two ingredients combine well for a great, easy family dinner. This crustless quiche is perfect for a weeknight dinner or weekend brunch

While asparagus has a unique flavour, it is a mild green taste. That means it pairs well with so many other flavours. You could turn this into nearly any other flavour combination. Try asparagus with lemon, parmesan, and pancetta, or tomatoes and provolone. Perhaps cheddar, ham, and green onions with the asparagus. Or salmon and lemon. This time around I chose feta and dill, family favourites in my house.

Asparagus, Feta, and Dill Crustless Quiche

Serves 6-8 as a main course

1 tbsp butter

1/2 cup bread crumbs

1/2 bunch of asparagus

8 eggs

1 cup milk

1 tbsp chopped fresh dill

1 cup crumbled feta

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2. Butter a deep dish pie plate. Toss the bread crumbs into the plate and roll around to cover the sides. Pat in an errant crumbs.

3. Clean and chop the asparagus into 1 inch pieces. Place in a small pot, season with salt, and add about 1 inch of water. Cook on high heat, covered, for 1-2 minutes. Drain immediately. Pour into a bowl and leave uncovered while you prepare the rest of the quiche.

4. Crack the eggs into a large bowl. Add the milk and whisk well. Season with pepper, a little bit of salt (the feta is salty, so you don't have to add that much). Add the 1/2 cup feta, dill, and the asparagus. Pour into prepared pie plate. Top with remaining feta.

5. Bake for 40-45 min until the top is puffy and golden. Let cool for 5 minutes before you serve.

Asparagus Week

2011-06-13T07:14:00.000-06:00

It's the quintessential spring time food - Asparagus.

A fern poking from the ground. Fields that look like dirt with some random spikes reaching for the sunshine. The taste of green, of peas, of spring. The marking of the season in a land where winter lasts for bloody ever.

This week I'm going to showcase one of my favourite foods. Asparagus recipes, tips, and links.

Growing Asparagus

Here on the Prairies asparagus grows. Some might even argue that it thrives, if you treat it right and treat it as a perenial. That means you treasure it in the spring then let it rest. It goes to fern, filling the fields with a froth of green, over the summer. It survives the winter, it really does.

It takes 3 years for an asparagus crown to produce edible product. That means 3 years of patience and care. Then, with annual tenderness you have a lifetime of asparagus. Or, if you were my Mom's family, a lifetime of front yard decoration.

Picking Asparagus

Pick the stalks right from the ground. Let them be at least 6-8 inches tall before you snap them.

If you have the pleasure of visiting an asparagus farm, make sure you check out their pickers. These low-riders will take you throw the fields, saving your back, as pickers gather precious bunches for us lucky consumers.

Eating Asparagus

Contrary to expectations, you can easily and enjoyably eat asparagus raw. It tastes mildly of peas when raw (which means that is my least favourite way to eat it).

Often grown in sandy soil, asparagus can carry dirt to the dinner table. Fill your sink with some cool water and swish the stalks around to loosen any sand and dirt. If your asparagus has been sitting around for a bit then cut off the bottom ends and cook away. If your asparagus is fresh then don't bother trimming off the ends and wasting that precious veg.

The most important thing with asparagus, like nearly any vegetable, is to NOT overcook it. Steam it for a few minutes, grill it, roast it, or even boil it. Just don't overdo it.

Asparagus Types

With a slight tinge of purple on the heads, green asparagus is the most common kind we see.

More frequently, however, we see white asparagus in the markets and on menus. White asparagus isn't actually any different of a plant. It it regular asparagus that grows covered by dirt. That means that the plants are denied light and do not colour.

Sometimes you can find purple asparagus, although it is rare.

The rest of this week I will share with you three new recipes from me for asparagus as well as some links for more gorgeous recipes. Grab a spear and enjoy.

Enforcement

2011-06-08T06:30:00.004-06:00

3 hours.

My 3 year old sat at the table an hour for every year the other night. Just because she wouldn't drink her milk. And because we told her she couldn't leave the table until she did just that.

She cried, she took a bathroom break, she fussed, she tried to play, she desperately worked us for conversation and entertainment. We continued on with our evening - working, cleaning up, putting The Monster to bed (even though she couldn't sleep because she is quite used to her sister in the room), and I even made caramel corn. For 3 hours she sat there. At that point I subbed out the milk with a cold glass. She spilled that one. I cleaned it up and gave her another one. With a nonchalance that belied the battle of wills she simply picked it up and drank it.

Right now you either think we are cruel parents or are filled with admiration for our stick-to-it-ness. Or you think we're dumb. I'm going with all three myself.

A rule is a rule. We don't care if they don't eat all their dinner. As long as they've tried everything on their plate, they can eat as much or as little as they like. But they have to drink their milk. (Very lovely goat milk, I might add.)

As for us parents, our rule is that if we start down a path we don't cave. If the other says something we don't contradict. So even though we had a pile of things to do and actually needed the dining room table, we worked around her. It was exhausting, I'll admit. I'm proud of all of us for sticking to it. And the caramel corn went really nicely with a scotch once it was all over.

(I used this recipe, but subbed the syrup for maple syrup, added pecans instead of peanuts, and crumbled in some cooked bacon with the popcorn.)

And don't tell the kid, but I'm impressed with her. That stubborness will do her well as an adult, if she makes it there.

What are some of your dinnertime rules? What's the longest you've had to go to enforce a rule?

Intentions

2011-06-01T06:46:00.003-06:00

Hubby took me to a very fancy schmancy restaurant in the mountains for my birthday and this is the only picture my camera took.

We had a 7 course meal: the most amazing fois gras I've ever had, two things I'd never heard of before (compressed melon and dehydrated milk), wines that I'd never think to drink, a goose broth that needs to be bottled and sold as liquid gold, and a glorious sunset over the mountains. And I didn't take a single picture of it.

Don't get me wrong, it was gorgeous food. From artful but real presentations to sublime tastes to inventive techniques. It was a very memorable meal.

The memory will only live in my head, and maybe in my husband's. I did not photograph such a stellar experience because sometimes I just want my dinner to be my dinner. I have no intention of becoming a restaurant reviewer, so that documentation isn't necessary. And I have no intention of documenting everything I eat, Twitter is bad enough for that.

What I do intend to do, and this dinner practiced that intention, is to simply enjoy my food, enjoy my experience. Food writers need breaks too from thinking about writing about food. We want vacations and the only way we'll get them, since we always have to eat, is by putting down the camera and not composing sentences in our head as we chew.

Instead, I'm going to think how awesome my husband looks with the sun setting behind him and the look of joy on his face as he devours his favourite food. I'm going to pinch myself that I experienced such a luxurious treat in the midst of some stressful times. I'm going to look at my sous vide rhubarb and think it's cool, instead of wondering how they did it. I'm just going to eat.

No Pretense

2011-05-19T15:14:00.006-06:00

I've tried to muster the enthusiasm for brisket, eggs, and the coming asparagus. I've tried to cook my family a dinner that is worthy of attention. I've tried to care to want to serve the girls more than bread with butter and honey. I've tried. I've tried. I've tried.

The truth is, I just don't have it in me.

Shopping, planning, cooking, writing, and even reading about food is at the bottom of my list of tolerable activities right now. My energy is devoted to not killing my kids when their energy gets the better of me, to answering the calls from my family when the last thing I want to do is talk, or avoiding the constant crooked finger beckoning of alcohol, sugar, and fat.

It would be easy to say that it's grief. And that would be true. My Dad, my dog, even grief over my old professional life. It's also burn out, insecurity, and the extra weight of life, life, life. I could say that the last 3 months have been killer, but so have the last 6, the last 9, hell the last 18! I could wallow in the crap that has happened from ski accidents to deaths. I could wallow, but then I really wouldn't get out of bed in the morning. And frankly, I don't actually want to wallow - it takes up too much energy.

I want to think about Happy Foods, to enjoy cooking, to get excited about being creative in the kitchen, to grab the girls and hit a farm. It just isn't there, though. I frankly don't give a rat's ass about food right now. I'm desperate for people to bring me casseroles or a pot of chili. I would do anything for my husband to decide to make Spanish Rice every single night.

On top of that, I really don't care to photograph or write about anything I do eat or cook. Hell, I posted a picture of a ridiculous can opener last week. My blog needs some quality control. Or a serious kick in the butt.

I wish I was the kind of person that could stock up on frozen meals or processed food. It really would make life easier right now. The fact that I haven't got there yet means something. It means that not all is lost. Somewhere inside is the person that I do know that I am, the person that ultimately does care whether my kids eat fruit in season and that we know our farmer.

Food blogging started as an outlet for me, a way to practice my writing and get me out of my comfort zone. Then it turned into my comfort zone. Now I'm not sure what it is. Mostly, it's a challenge and I don't mean that in a good way. But I made a commitment and for now I'm sticking with it. That commitment includes being honest and open. In doing that, however, I feel like the tone here hasn't been great. My frustration with life is certainly evident. Coming here must be like hanging out with a whining pessimistic friend - eventually it gets to you.

That doesn't mean I can suddenly pretend to be chipper and fake enthusiasm for another brownie recipe. Perhaps the asparagus will indeed snap me out of things, or maybe I'll find some fiddleheads somewhere? Or maybe time will simply allow my creativity and motivation to slowly creep back? Those girls of mine don't give us much choice. Just the other day, out of nowhere, The Monster asked me to cook some Czech food. Know any good recipes? I've got to find something for some new explorations or the middle aisles of the grocery store just might become my new home instead of the farmers' market. That gives even me a little shudder.

But I would still take any cheese covered casseroles left on my doorstep.

Mystery Object

2011-05-10T06:47:00.003-06:00

Does anyone know what this is?

My Mom was cleaning out some drawers the other day and came across this potential torture device. We have our theories about what it might be used for, but I'm curious if anyone knows for sure what it is?

Happy Foods

2011-05-04T07:14:00.000-06:00

Comfort Food gets all the attention. The creamy, cheesy, starchy, and heavy food that we seek when it's cold, when life is hard, when we need a bit of love and a set of arms to hug us isn't around. There comes a point when comfort food isn't enough or it's become too much. That's when we have to pull out the Happy Food.

Happy Food is the food that we love to grow, pick, cook, and eat. It gives us pleasure in thought, touch, smell, and taste. When you think of Happy Food you can't help but smile. In a way it is comforting, but instead of hiding in relief it bursts through you with peace or joy.

It might seem that Happy Food is seasonal. The snow finally melts, green things poke up from the ground, calves are suckling on the ranches. So we start thinking of the ease of warm weather and the fresh food that comes with it. We dream about sun-warmed tomatoes and fresh asparagus. The stews, baked pasta, and spices of winter kept us warm but they need to be put away for at least a few months.

I would argue that we need to find the Happy Food regardless of the time of year. Feed yourself to nurture the joy in your soul, not the pain. Feed yourself the food that fills you with pleasure long before one taste reaches your mouth. Feed yourself happy.

These are the things that feed me happy.

Tomatoes, warm from the bush, salted on toast with aioli, or slow, slow roasted and eaten like candy.

A good burger, preferably my husband's, or a thick, medium-rare steak.

Raspberries picked from the bush, and hopefully made into gecko fingers, and eaten one at a time.

Fresh peaches.

Ice Cream, of pretty much any flavour like Mint Chocolate Chip, Salted Caramel, or Strawberry.

Carrots thick with the flavour of the stock they flavoured in a long, slow simmer.

Poached eggs, peppered and placed on hash, last night's veggies, or sauteed greens with feta.

Maple syrup.

Brussels Sprouts. Roasted is the best way, but I'll take them any way I can get.

Pink Grapefruit, eaten in sections on cold, cold winter days. Best with company.

What about you? What are your happy foods?

Routine

2011-04-25T07:04:00.001-06:00

When my father-in-law died seven years ago and we used a lot of humor to cope with our grief we would joke that we could say, "My Dad just died," and get what we wanted in any negotiation or to get out of something we didn't want to do. My girls are already picking up on this and when they cry because I won't let them have another Mini Egg they scream, "I'm just sad because Dido died." I can't help but laugh, then still refuse to give them another chocolate. I need to accept their own process of grieving and settling back home, but that includes losing the bad diet of our time away. Besides, Mama needs those Mini Eggs.

My Dad died and we buried him last week. After nearly 2 months of not being at home, of daily trips to the hospital, of more candy that I thought possible, of captured meals, of the chaos of 6 little cousins getting together more than they ever have before, of the comfort of cookie it is time to get back to a routine.

There is a lot to be said for routine and kids.

To be honest, though, I used to scoff at the parenting advice that practically shouted out the value of ROUTINE! for kids. Most kids are resilient and adaptable. Not all, but most. And I certainly didn't want to become a slave to my kids routine. Wake. Eat. Play. Sleep. Repeat.

Right now, though, we're craving routine.

We watch PBS Kids while we eat our bread with butter and honey, as we do every single morning. (Okay, so they did this at my parents' place every morning too.) Now we can stay in our pajamas longer. We can soak in the sun streaming through the windows. We can pet our dogs. We can peek out the front window and spy on the neighbours. We are home.

So long as there is bread, butter, and honey we can eat. We can be boring and routine.

Death Row Dinners

2011-04-03T17:17:00.004-06:00

My Dad is dying. Over 50 years of smoking will indeed catch up with you.

He's now as comfortable as one can be in his condition in a Palliative unit. We've all but moved in with my mom to support her and the rest of the family as we deal with hospital visits, nighttime vigils, loss of appetite and the inevitable stress and pain that comes with all of this. While I've been surviving on Mini Eggs and beer, my Dad has a renewed appetite. Thank goodness for steroids!

On the days when he isn't wolfing down a bag of jellybeans for breakfast or eating chocolate bars when he can't sleep at 4 am, he is planning his next home cooked meal. After months and months of no appetite and a weight loss that will see him buried in his wedding suit from 45 years ago he is nothing short of starving at all times. Unfortunately, all he's doing is feeding the cancer at this point. The doctors have pointed out that he is only eating for pleasure, and not nourishment at this point.

So pleasure it will be.

We get the opportunity to gather for family meals when Dad is released on a day pass. The first time he submitted his meal request days in advance. Chicken, ribs, shrimp, and onion pie. He didn't much care what we served for vegetables. This past weekend he asked for roast beef, real chicken noodle soup, ham, kasha, and raisin pie. Again, he wasn't picky about the vegetables. I guess when you are eating for pleasure things like salad don't matter much.

The meal requests almost feel like he's a death row inmate asking for his last supper. Many of us have been asked what we would want for our last meal, but when faced with the real prospect of such a meal it is the visceral pleasures that win, as do the memories of taste.

There we sit, 8 adults and 6 kids, wolfing down the meal as if it is the last, or the first, for all of us. In a strange twist the kids end up at the dining room table while we adults crowd, with the food, in the kitchen. The meals come together with the efforts of everyone. Someone makes the pie, another makes the kasha, a few of us throw the soup together. My sister makes a roast beef, complete with carrots and potatoes. The salt and pepper shakers that have accompanied us for over 30 years are still there, as is my parent's wedding flatware. The comfort of the familiar in looks and tastes is there for all of us.

We fill our plates, then eat seconds, picking with our fingers from the serving dishes. Carrots, heavy with the pan juices from the roast. Beef dipped in Dad's homemade horseradish cream. Family dinner.

My Dad, with his appetite, wolfs it all down. His inherent grumpiness is not gone, complaining about the noise the kids are making or the roast that the rest of us love. Then, while we sit in the living room, chatting and looking through Dad's high school yearbooks, he periodically wanders back into the kitchen to pick at the meat. Taking in every last ounce of his family and his favourite foods.

Beyond a reflection on these death row dinners, this post is also an entry for the Canadian Beef contest to win a scholarship to Eat, Write, Retreat.

True Needs

2011-03-10T12:03:00.001-07:00

At the risk of becoming a freelance martyr, working when I shouldn't because I think I should, I'm taking a break. This blog has been a source of comfort, as have many of you readers, during some very stressful times. Right now, however, my family needs me and I need them.

Take care.

Hot Dish at the Table

2011-03-06T21:32:00.004-07:00

Ever had a Hot Dish?

You might know it better by its other name, a casserole. In honour of my week in Wisconsin, via Minnesota, I made Hot Dish for dinner. Specifically, Beef with Wild Rice, Almonds, and Roasted Tomatoes.

Hot Dish is basically any one dish meal that can be prepared in advance, even frozen. Rice or pasta with a bit of veg and often a lot of meat and some sort of sauce bringing it all together. Common at the potluck table, the neighbours kitchen counter after a rough week, or for Sunday dinner.

Not exactly a fancy Sunday dinner, I realize. My flight got in at midnight last night and I needed to spend the day in precious snow play and cuddles instead of cooking. Oh, and actually reading a book during to naptime to take advantage of the quiet of broken cable. Dinner needed to come without a trip to the grocery store and contain real food for the. girls. Too many cookies and treats over the weekend.

I bought this cookbook in the airport. Totally cheesy, I know. Once you siphon out the recipes that include a can of condensed mushroom soup and past Tuna Broccoli Brie Hot Dish, there are some nice dinner ideas. Perfect for days when you want to read The Cat in the Hat again and again instead of making a roast with popovers. Also perfect for make ahead recipes for the days you want to pass on a meal for comfort. I'll be making a few more from the book this week for friends.

Dessert also came from the book. Conveniently called Busy Day Cherry Cobbler. Conveniently made with my own cherry pie filling in the pantry.

My time away from the family was very busy. My friend, my host, has a great family and they were incredibly welcoming. We did not have Hot Dish, but I learn how to make tortillas and had my fill of Wisconsin Smoked Cheddar.

In truth, I desperately missed my family. All the chaotic energy and even the spazzing, but it's all my spazzing. Dinner tonight was perfect. The Monster chatted far too much about her first trip to an amusement park to be interested in food. Smilosaurus was copying her sister but spooning in the food with sincere pleasure. Hubby and I rubbed our eyes for the tiredness, tried to talk, and could only smile. It was all mine. It was our perfect Sunday dinner.

Hot Dish with Beef, Wild Rice, Roasted Tomatoes, and Almonds

Serves 4-6

1 pound ground beef

1 medium onion

4 celery stocks

1 tbsp olive oil

4 cloves garlic

1 orange

1/2 cup brown rice

1/2 cup wild rice

2 tbsp fresh thyme

3 cups chicken stock

1 dozen roasted tomatoes*

1 cup almonds or pine nuts

1. In an oven proof casserole or large pan brown the ground beef. While the beef is browning chop the onions, celery, and garlic. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.

2. As soon as the beef is browned, drain off any fat and push the meat to the side of the pan. Add the olive oil, onion, and celery. Cook over medium heat until light browned and soft. Add the garlic and saute for 1 minute.

3. Juice the orange and add the juice to the pan to deglaze.

4. Stir in the rices, thyme, and stock into the pan. Season with salt and pepper. Pour into a casserole dish, if necessary. Top with tomatoes and sprinkle the almonds over.

5. Bake for 1 hour.

*If you don't have slow roasted tomatoes on hand you could use a 14 ounce can of diced tomatoes. Cut the stock used to 2 cups and add the tomatoes, juice and all.

Dido Making his Salsa (Wordless Wednesday)

2011-03-02T08:00:00.000-07:00

Kind of Numb

2011-02-27T21:33:00.004-07:00

For the first time in 7 years we watched the Oscars.

When we last watched this gratuitous display of celebrity, film, and fashion it was shortly after my Father-in-Law died. A few days after our frantic drives through winter streets to rescue, to say goodbye some of the family gathered for dinner. We went for Indian food and came home to the TV staring at us in its temporary living room home of my in-law's home. Without thinking we sat and stared, numb at the pompous and posh party in front of us.

It kind of felt that way tonight too. If you can subtract the chaos of little girls who literally demand you watch them jump on the couch and pretend you need to be rescued.

After a weekend in Edmonton, learning the secrets of my Dad's famous salsa and coming together with family, we arrived home exhausted. Frankly, I'm so drained right now that the emotions boiling through me seem to cancel each other out and that numbness wins.

That means leftovers and the Oscars are what won tonight.

A steak never eaten because we were too tired turns into beef stroganoff. Comfort food in this family. Carrots steamed and glazed with honey and balsamic vinegar. Salad made from anything green in the fridge. A perfectly ripe winter pear next to some okay 1. 2. 3. bite brownies from Wild Earth.

Now, a beer, laundry, and packing. There is no time to process, to celebrate, to cry. I'm off again tomorrow. Leaving the girls and my man for the first time in forever when all I want to do is gather them all around me for snuggles and debates about whether there ever was such a thing as a carnitore. So tonight we gathered at the table and tried to selvage a moment that gave us all comfort, albeit brief, the ritual of dinner together.

Chocolate Cake for Friends and Neighbours

2011-02-20T22:05:00.005-07:00

Do you know your neighbours?

Will they shovel your walk? Will you shovel theirs? Have you had backyard happy hour together? Built a really nice fence? Even chatted with them?

We've got some really fantastic neighbours (and one not so nice one). Once they got past the fact that we indeed were a couple old enough to own a house and not siblings living with our parents we've got along great. They babysit the girls, we watch each other's pets, and generally look out for each other. It is because of our neighbours, in large part, that we are renovating instead of moving.

So when we came home with a new washer and dryer today Poppa came over to help us get it into the house. No, we didn't make him do the heavy lifting! As I was already making dinner we invited them to join us. Besides, how much ham can two adults and the girls eat?

We pigged out, literally, on Spragg Meats ham, sauteed kale, and lentils with roasted squash and caramelized onions. I was going to be all healthy and serve a citrus salad for dessert, but it seemed more special to make a cake. Our neighbours definitely deserved cake.

This recipe was created for the latest issue of What's Up Families. I wrote a feature article on gluten free cooking. It was a great challenge for me. And a great opportunity to interview Lauren over at Celiac Teen and her family for the article. Very inspiring to see her family together and her love for baking. While Lauren isn't quite close enough to be my neighbour (but luckily still close), I would happily share this cake with her. (Check out the issue for more GF recipes.)

Hazelnut Flourless Chocolate Cake

1/2 cup plus 1 tsp cocoa

4 ounces chocolate

1/2 cup butter

3 eggs, separated

3/4 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup roasted hazelnuts, finely crushed

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter an 8'' round cake pan. Cut a piece of parchment paper to line the bottom, place inside the buttered pan, and butter that too. Use the 1 tsp of cocoa to dust the parchment lines pan.

2. Chop the chocolate and melt with the butter in a bowl set atop of a pot of simmering water. Once melted remove from heat and let cool for 5 minutes.

3. While the chocolate is cooling whip the egg whites with an electric mixer until soft peaks form. Add in 1/4 cup sugar and beat until glossy and stiff peaks form.

4. Add the egg yolks, 1/2 cup sugar, and vanilla to the melted chocolate. Stir well. Add the hazelnuts. Fold in 1/3 of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten the batter. Carefully fold in the remaining whites. Stop as soon as you don't see white. Pour into prepared pan.

5. Bake for 30 minutes. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then remove from pan. Best served warm.

Picky Eaters are a Parent's Responsibility

2011-02-09T07:04:00.004-07:00

There is no such thing as a picky eater anymore. Just selective or particular eaters. It's like the word picky got sucked up by the political correctness vacuum. Which means, of course, it must be replaced by something kinder that doesn't make a kid feel bad because they don't like green vegetables or meat that isn't chicken.

This is all simply ridiculous, I say, because ALL kids are picky eaters. The degree to which they pick and choose their food varies, but all kids are selective about what they will eat.

Take my kids, for example. More than once I've been told that my kids will eat anything, or that they are such good eaters. Um, not really folks. Sure, they love sashimi and will eat game meat even when we tell them what it is. The Monster, however, will not eat rice, mashed potatoes, the tops of broccoli, the bottoms of muffins, any filled pasta but one particular shape, and an egg any way but scrambled. It is a random day when Smilosaurus happily eats all her vegetables without any comment from me and she is rather particular about how things get cut and served.

That being said, I don't consider my kids picky. I consider them kids.

Kids are inherently fickle, most love a good routine and struggle with new challenges, and they respond to our lead like sponges wiping the kitchen counter.

I've said it before, I think picky eaters are made, not born. How we, as parents, approach food and feeding our children has more to do with your kids than anything. It starts right at the beginning when we give them their first soft purees. From the flavour to the texture we are indeed molding them. It's about more than introducing them to every taste in the book before they eat a chunk of food. It's about setting up the ritual of dinner - from the making to the eating.

When we give them their first chunks of fruit and grain we cut off the crust or the peels. We get into that habit and suddenly we have a 6 year old who doesn't eat the crusts. (Or you don't and they still don't eat the crusts, suddenly, one day after eating them for years!) We give them the choice of a rainbow selection of plates then have to deal with meltdowns when the pink one isn't clean. Before long and without intending to, many of us become short order cooks.

It sounds like I'm criticizing parents here, I understand that. I also make no apologies for it. We parents care about our kids and we should always take a critical eye to what we are doing. I include myself there too. I do think that a big part of picky eating is indeed what we parents do to create the situation.

The other thing we parents do is react to the situation. We worry that they aren't eating enough, they are eating too much of one thing, that they will never like the tops of broccoli, that somehow this makes me a bad parent... We often create a problem or think we have a picky eater because we struggle to get our kids to eat cottage cheese, not flavoured yoghurt. But this is OUR issue, not the kids.

There are great articles, resources, and tips out there to help you "break" a picky eater, banish picky eating, or even help a kid recover from picky eating habits. You can search on-line for days to get through all the tips. Seldom will you see the words Relax and Step Back. That is precisely what I suggest parents do.

Easier said than done.

Here are some tips to help you with that. These aren't about getting your kids to eat more foods or different foods, these are about accepting your kids as kids, regardless of how they eat. They are about accepting our role as parents without putting labels on them.

1. Kids don't need as much food as you think they do. One good meal every day or two can be good enough, augmented by some snacking.

2. Kids eat in cycles. One week they seemingly devour any and all food you can put in front of them, the next almost nothing.

3. Kids are fickle. One week they'll eat the crusts, another week they won't. And there is no explanation why.

4. Kids can indeed survive, in the short term, on odd diets like bread and butter with fruit.

5. You are in control of what food goes on the table. They are in control of whether they eat it or not.

6. It is perfectly okay to say no to your kids' requests for cookies for breakfast, a snack 20 minutes before dinner is on the table, and juice 24 hours a day. It is perfectly okay to ignore the tantrum that ensues when you say no.

7. Kids will not starve if they don't eat dinner. If they don't like what you are offering then don't offer them alternatives.

8. Shop, cook, and eat with your kids as much as possible.

9. Keep some guaranteed favourite meals in your back pocket and in the pantry. Pull them out on days when everyone is tired or when it's been a bit since they had a good meal.

10. Offer the best food you can. Focus on the quality of the ingredients even when they are limiting their diet.

It isn't political correctness that makes me want to lose the term picky, it's this notion picky eating is something to be tackled and eradicated like a disease. Kids are kids, and we need to respond to them like adults, not short order cooks or narrow minded politicians.

Friction and Brisket

2011-01-30T20:19:00.003-07:00

As I've told you before our dinner conversation is quite often nothing by Daddy and I constantly reminded the girls to stop singing/talking/playing with the forks and start eating. Tonight, however, was different.

The Monster started skiing lessons this morning. We were a bit worried because she has a tendency to be uber frustrated when she can't do something perfectly the first time she tries. Skiing is apparently another story. She loves it so much it wore out her entire body, as she told us.

Dinner conversation tonight was minimal until she'd scarfed down her brisket, broccoli, and last minute request of beets and blood oranges. (Yes, dinner was brought to us by the Letter B.) While we waited for her sister to finish the conversation turned to friction. Some days it's fart jokes, some days it is University level physics.

Hubby and The Monster are discussing friction and how it allows for movement. He launches into a lesson on the difference between static and dynamic friction. And she totally gets it. Scary. At the end of dinner she starts pulling on his arm and this conversation happens:

Hubby: You can't pull me because I have a higher coefficient of static friction.

The Monster: Oh yeah? Well I have superhero friction.

Hubby: What's that?

The Monster: Superhero friction lets me push off and fly.

That's when I served the brownies.

Slow Cooked Maple Cider Brisket

This recipe is adapted from the Edible cookbook. The meat itself was a gorgeous cut from Hoven Farms, but not quite as big as the recipe called for, so I played with it a bit. To be honest, I've never cooked a brisket before. I will be adding it to the regular repertoire from now on. Fantastic! Fork tender, with this almost sweet and sour sauce, this brisket was perfect for this cold, snowy day and a table full of hungry bellies. It served all of us and there is enough left for another family dinner.

1 large red onion

1 tbsp bacon drippings

5 cloves garlic

2 1/2 pound beef brisket

1 tbsp kosher salt

1 tsp dried oregano

1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper

1/4 tsp chili powder

1 tbsp tomato sauce

1 cup strong brewed tea (original recipe called for coffee, but I had none)

1/2 cup apple cider vinegar

1/2 cup maple syrup

1/4 water or chicken broth

1 tbsp dijon mustard

1. Slice the onion in half then cut into crosswise strips. Heat the bacon drippings in an oven proof pan with a tight fitting lid. Cook the onion for 5-6 minutes until soft and lightly golden.

2. While the onions are cooking, finely chop 3 cloves of garlic and thinly slice the remaining two cloves. With a sharp knife cut slits all over the brisket. Poke the garlic slices into the slits. Set the brisket aside for the time being.

3. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

4. When the onions are soft and golden stir in the garlic, salt, oregano, pepper, and chili powder. Cook for 1 minutes. Add the tomato sauce, tea/coffee, vinegar, maple syrup, water/stock, and mustard. Bring to a boil.

5. Place the brisket in the sauce, cover with the lid of the pan and place in the oven. Braise for 30 minutes. Reduce the heat to 300 degrees F and continue for braise for 3-4 hours.

6. Let the meat rest 15-30 minutes before slicing. Serve with sauce.

Nutella is Evil

2011-01-26T07:14:00.000-07:00

Don't let that fake mom on the commercial fool you - Nutella is evil.

I don't care if you tell me there is a cup of skim milk in an entire jar. Turns out I'm not spreading an entire jar on toast. In reality I'm eating it by the spoonful and keeping the children from even knowing Nutella exists.

Let me make it clear that I've got nothing against treats for my kids. We bake at least once a week, they love their honey sticks, and sugar is not a bad word in this house. But Nutella is like crack. Highly addictive and good for giving you a rush. That rush does not belong on toast - that sounds disgusting - because no kid needs to get used to the idea of a chocolate filling for breakfast.

We are considered strict parents among our family and friends. I've got no problem saying no when my kids ask for something repeatedly. But if they knew Nutella existed a whole new world of begging would emerge. Seeing as I don't have the will power to keep a teaspoon out of the jar then I expect a distinct challenge in the same for my children. They also know how to climb on the counters. Keeping Nutella in the house is simply too dangerous.

Then again, I might ask my husband to hide a jar just so I can make these brownies periodically. Rich and fudgy and the recipe makes the perfect amount to satisfy the craving without leaving you with a pound of baking laying around.

That Abby Dodge is a genius when it comes to the easy dessert. She gave me the permission to share this recipe to you. You may have seen it a million times over already since Desserts 4 Today came out. Maybe not. Either way, you should dig out your own jar of Nutella and scrape out what you've managed to leave behind after your midnight snack.

Nutella Brownies

Makes 12 mini brownies

1/2 cup Nutella

1 egg

5 tbsp flour

1/2 cup chopped hazelnuts

1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a mini muffin tin with 12 papers or liners. (Or spray with non-stick spray.)

2. Whisk the Nutella and egg together in a medium bowl. Whisk in the flour until smooth.

3. Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin tins. Top with chopped nuts.

4. Bake for 11-12 minutes. Remove from oven and set on a rack to cool completely.

Rhythm and Apple Pie

2011-01-23T21:29:00.005-07:00

It felt good to be back in the kitchen today. An afternoon of crust making, apple peeling, chicken roasting, orange peeling, and even doing the dishes. I honestly can't remember the last time I did that - prepared a proper Sunday dinner.

Today Smilosaurus was very helpful. I'm going to milk that. Her sister was the same way, until she turned 3. Now she isn't as interested in the kitchen. Like all moms, I'm clinging to the adoration of my children while I have it. She helped me rub the freshly roasted hazelnuts in a clean towel, she worked the food processor, tossed the fennel and apples, and stood transfixed as I peeled a blood orange.

Even on the days when I just-want-to-get dinner-on-the-table I'm always happy for her help. Well, except when she decides she needs to salt things. We're used to each other and have already developed our own rhythm. And she's two and a half!

Then today I tried a new recipe - Apple Pie with Chinese Five Spice Powder and Hazelnut Crumb Topping. It was just apple pie, but it wasn't the way I normally make apple pie. It seemed to take forever! A different crust, precooking the filling, and orange juice in the crumble topping?! My rhythm was off, way off. The only part that felt right, felt normal was peeling the apples.

So, it took a little longer. So what? It was damn good apple pie! The 5-spice powder was intoxicating, beyond anything cinnamon every aspires to be. While the crust was mediocre (oh, how I wish I'd stuck with my own pate brisee), the crumble topping was insane. I doubted the orange juice, but that made it sing. No taste of orange, but a heightened hazelnut brightness.

As I followed the recipe to a T, check it out here, from The Nourish Network. Kind of appropriate too, seeing as it was National Pie Day in the US. It fits in with Lauren's Go Ahead Honey series too.

We ate our roast chicken and potatoes, apple and fennel slaw with sunflower seeds, and roasted chiogga beets with oranges, blood oranges, and goat cheese. Before pie The Monster and Hubby went skating. Spazzing was kept to a minimum and she was rewarded with two slices of pie. Okay, maybe I was rewarded too...

Best Laid Plans

2011-01-16T22:24:00.002-07:00

Definitely a night I was happy we keep a well stocked freezer.

The Monster's been fighting something for a few days. When she woke up from her nap she looked like she'd been through a few rounds with GSP. Her eye was not looking good. After we spoke with a doctor Hubby took her to the Children's Hospital.

This all happens at 5:30. Did I mention I have a project due tomorrow that is the biggest of my new professional career?

So Daddy and The Monster ate hospital sandwiches, and a banana when they arrived home to soak up the antibiotics. Smilosaurus and I dug some meatballs out of the freezer. Definitely also a night where I was happy for leftover party cupcakes from Crave.

Urban Survival - TV and Trail Mix

2011-01-12T07:48:00.004-07:00

In the midst of a major deadline (let's just say it involves a lot of words) and a weekend away with some family, there hasn't been a lot of great cooking around the Arkison household. To be honest, I'm struggling to feed the family well and work. I'm totally relying on what's in the freezer to get dinner on the table.

During the day it's another story. The girls have been surviving on grilled cheese sandwiches and bowls of cottage cheese for lunch. At snacks they are, sadly, begging for chips and chocolate. Christmas isn't that far behind us, after all. Thank goodness for apples and pomegranates!

What they are truly surviving on right now is PBS Kids and Trail Mix. Yes, my kids are watching too much TV. I know that, leave me alone. As for the Trail Mix, this is my Mom's fault. Yes, Mom, I am totally blaming you and your Costco treat.

After buying the Trail Mix only once I got smart and made my own. I could make 4-5 times the amount for the same price, even from the warehouse. Use a combination of ingredients that works for you. Nuts, seeds, dried fruit, cereal, and even a few treats. In our house I use whatever nuts I have in the freezer. Or, perhaps, the leftovers from Christmas. Sometimes I'll toast them, usually I don't. The girls don't care. Add in some dried cranberries and raisins for some sweetness, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, and yes, some M&M's. I used to add chocolate chips, but those got messy when a certain 2 year old liked to pick them out and coddle them in her hand for an hour.

Store in a large plastic bag or air tight jar. Pack in jam jars for on-the-go snacks.

It seems like a no brainer to do this, but I find that not many people take the two minutes to toss it together in a large bowl. I, for one, am thankful I took the time between paragraphs. Now, when The Electric Company comes on I know I can get at least a page written before the jar of Trail Mix is gone.

Less Talking More Eating

2011-01-02T21:32:00.004-07:00

It's been months since I ate a cold meal.

Parents often say that they miss hot meals once they start having family dinners. Too much time spent cutting, feeding, cleaning, and cajoling and not enough time enjoying their own food. In our house we have the opposite problem. Hubby and I finish our meals before our children have even started eating and it's getting damn frustrating.

We always eat together. I dish up the same food for everyone, a little of this and a little of that. Everything must be tried, but not necessarily eaten if you don't like it. A glass of milk on the side and maybe, just maybe, a treat or some fruit after dinner. The girls, like most kids, don't like hot foods. I serve them first and we cut it all up, as necessary, as Hubby and I serve ourselves. Then we all sit down and should be able to enjoy a pleasant meal.

Should.

Meals are anything but pleasant these days. Hubby and I will chit chat while we eat, with the girls coming in every now and then to tell us to only talk one at a time or "less talking more eating!" By no means are we inhaling our food, but almost every night we'll be half done before the girls have taken a single bite - if we're lucky.

That picture up there? Our lovely bison stew (a family favourite, made this way) and some olive oil bread (courtesy of Martha Stewart). I snapped that of The Monster's meal when I was already half done mine.

Dinner tonight took 45 minutes! I'm all for leisurely meals, lingering over wine and great conversation. Or even milk and knock knock jokes. I am not, however, down with reminding my children to actually take a forkful of their food and watching them chew everything 50 times, every single bite. Every single bite. Or repeat that there that there is no singing at the table and they are the ones that need "less talking, more eating." (Oh, how my parents are laughing now.)

It isn't even a battle about whether they like it or not. It's the same regardless of what we eat, but definitely worse if it is something they are iffy about.

By the time the girls finally finished tonight and I offered up some grapefruit and vanilla bean panna cotta they, and we, were done.

What would you do when faced with this?

Merry Christmas

2010-12-24T07:15:00.003-07:00

It seems rather obvious that most of us are gathering with family over the next few days. Whether family means the neighbours next door or the entire familia at your parent's house, there are likely to be a few familiar treat on the table.

For me that means a big Ukrainian feast, followed by Christmas Tree bun, a fantastic gourmet feast, and more hot cocoa than anyone possibly needs. Don't forget about the rogalki, the shortbread, the rum balls, and definitely the booze. (Have you ever noticed how Christmas is much more enjoyable now that you can drink in front of your parents?)

As a parent myself now I was fighting crowds and crossing fingers. There I was in Canadian Tire, not quite begging Santa to come through for me. The Monster asked for a water gun in her letter to Santa. A water gun, in December. While I waited for a very, very kind elf to check the basement of Canadian Tire for a random water gun I browsed the candy aisle. That's when I came across the Misty Mints.

These were a favourite holiday treat in my family. Only for Christmas. We hoarded our favourite colours, even though they all taste the same. They aren't even real chocolate, but are so tasty. And full of memories.

When the elf returned, miraculously, with a couple of soakers, I grabbed a few boxes of Misty Mints to share with my family. Santa will still be the popular guy with my four year old. And maybe my family peace can be negotiated with some pseudo chocolate. Merry Christmas.

What will you be sharing this week?

I'm taking some time off for the holidays. See you in the New Year!

Sunday Mornings

2010-12-19T22:02:00.004-07:00

It's time to say goodbye.

This week marks the last week of operation for the Calgary Farmers' Market at the Currie Barracks. In February they are scheduled to open in their new location. In the meantime, you can definitely visit the Kingsland Market.

We moved to Calgary seven and a half years ago. As we struggled with the adjustment to a new city while obligations kept us going back to Edmonton the Calgary Farmers' Market opened. We'd been so used to buying all our groceries at the Old Strathcona Market at home. We had our Saturday routine of quiet morning, the market, brunch, a dog walk, and some lazy time. It was awesome.

In Calgary, however, we really struggled to establish any sort of weekend routine aside from ordering pizza on Friday, drinking too much beer, and watching a hell of a lot of home improvement TV. We tried the Crossroads Market. It's good, but it never felt like the right fit for us. It was winter, so the outside market at Hillhurst Sunnyside wasn't an option (but traffic makes it difficult as it is).

Then the Calgary Farmers' Market opened. I'm pretty sure we went there on one of the first weekends. It was close, we met some great folks, and the food was great. We've been going pretty much every weekend since.

At first we were in and out, food in hand, rather quickly. Say hello to our favourite vendors, buy some groceries, and back home for more home improvement TV. Then we had kids. One of my first outings after a C-section was to the market. Even with The Monster as a baby we went and now lingered. Once the bouncy castle was a non-lethal option for her we stayed, played, ate, and then shopped. Coffee and tea in hand, of course.

In time, we've not only got to know the producers we buy from and their staff, but the food vendors who sell us our lunch, the balloon man, market staff, and an infinite number of other market goers. Vendors and staff ask about my knees and exclaim over the growth of the girls. When Smilosaurus/Death Wish decides to wander off people know who she is and stop her. This place is our Sunday morning home.

Just today we sat with our odd combination of waffles, pakoras, blintz, chai, and coffee, chatting with our table mates. (I'm not sure we've ever sat by ourselves for lunch.) The couple we sat with looked like they could have been models for Mr. and Mrs. Claus. We spent 45 minutes eating and chatting about organic farming and the history of large agriculture, in between cutting waffles and cuddles. Last week we chatted with two other folks about gifted and geeky kids. It didn't matter who or what, we've always had a friendly time there.

There are so many market options in the city now, fantastic options. Each one will have their benefits and downsides. Like us, those factors will change for you depending on your life circumstances. If it wasn't for our CSA membership we never would have ventured to Hillhurst-Sunnyside, for example, because the traffic is brutal from our end of town. But it is a great market. We haven't been to them all and I'm certainly willing to check them out. You should too.

I'll admit, I'm a bit worried that the new location will be too slick, too mall like. I'm more than willing to give it a good Sunday morning chance. Many of our favourite vendors will be there and I don't want to lose their food or our relationship. The girls are going to be without a bouncy castle for months, I hope they survive!

(As for dinner tonight, do wings and a beer count? Hubby and I had hot parent date of Christmas shopping with the girls after our trip to the market. We celebrated starting and finishing in a matter of hours with a trip to the bar.)

Gingerbread Cake

2010-12-17T07:50:00.002-07:00

This is the cake that very nearly saved my life. Not changed my life, saved my life.

I have a very bad habit of waking in the middle of the night and snacking. I totally blame the tiny bladder I was blessed with, it wakes me and I'm left with nothing to do but snack before I try and get back to sleep. One April morning I awoke and tried to talk myself out of the extra ten steps to the kitchen for a piece of leftover gingerbread cake. I have no will power when fully awake, let alone at 3 am.

There I found myself, a piece of cake in hand and staring out the window when I noticed an orange glow. It took a few seconds to register that the glow wasn't actually supposed to be there. And a few seconds longer to realize that the glow meant fire.

Hubby's car was parked behind our garage on a parking pad. The car was the 1975 Triumph TR6 he bought a decade before. For years it had been in need to repair. In our garage sat the engine and an extra transmission. We'd moved 6 months earlier and he borrowed a flat bed to transport it all 3 hours down the highway. He knew exactly what he was going to do to the fix that car.

Having it lit on fire wasn't part of the plan.

In that eventual moment when I realized the car was on fire I screamed for him. He came running out, yelling at me to pick up the phone and call 911, then raced outside to grab the fire extinguisher from our daily driver in the garage. The garage two feet away from the burning car. I'm freaking out while the 911 operator is quite calmly and kindly reminding me that cars blow up and perhaps we should not be standing in front of the windows, let alone trying to put it out ourselves. That's when Hubby reminds me that there is no engine in the car and the gas tank would be empty. I'm obviously not very smart when faced with fire.

Fire trucks come and with very little ceremony the flames are doused in just minutes. The facts all point to someone having thrown accelerant on the hood of the car and tossing a match. By the time I'd discovered the fire there wasn't much left.

The garage was also hot and had to be hosed down on one side, siding eventually replaced. If the garage had gone up we would have lost our other car, the one with a full tank of gas, and who knows what else. As sad as Hubby was at losing his car, we were thankful that that was all we lost.

We came in the house as the sun was coming up and cracked a beer, a bit charred ourselves. When I went to put the bottles away I noticed the cake. One piece of cake fallen on the counter, with a single bite taken.

Peterson Gingerbread Cake

This is the recipe of my sister-in-law's mother. Their family likes it with Bird's Custard Sauce or even cream cheese icing. I'm partial to it with some maple butter. It is moist and heady with gingerbread.

1/2 cup shortening (I use butter)

2/3 cup brown sugar

1 egg

1 cup molasses

2 1/2 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp cloves

1 cup hot (not boiling) water

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8'' by 8'' baking pan.

2. Cream shortening/butter. Gradually add the sugar, then the egg. Beat until light and fluffy. Add the molasses.

3. In a medium bowl whisk together the dry ingredients. Add to the batter, 1/2 cup at a time, alternating with 1/4 cup water. Beat until smooth after each addition. Pour into pan.

4. Bake for 45-50 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.

1 cup molasses

Kingsland Farmers' Market Opens

2010-12-14T14:44:00.006-07:00

There's a new market in town. Well, not entirely new. Kingsland Farmer's Market opened this past summer, with a strictly outdoor show. Now, the indoor show is open.

The Kingsland Farmers' Market is a player in the not quite saturated market game in Calgary. There was a lot of controversy about the Calgary Farmers' Market this past year, controversy I have no interest in getting involved in. The Kingsland Market is a welcome response to all of it.

I say welcome because there is a host of new vendors at this market. Well, new to this regular of CFM and the Hillhurst Sunnyside Market. I am also totally biased because, with good knees, I could walk to this market.

The indoor market opened last week. The building, a not quite renovated completely former car dealership, is more spacious than expected. While only a few dozen of the vendors were open for the first day of operations, I can see that there is room for a lot of interesting sellers. As the building gets completed and the word gets out, I can see this being an attractive spot for vendors. Rumour has it that some new to Calgary vendors will be there soon.

It is also an attractive spot for shoppers. Already there is a wide variety of vendors with produce, meat, dairy, and bakery options. When the market started there was a really strong focus, on paper, for the make/bake/grow commitment. For the most part, that is there. But there are some fruit resellers there - mangoes can be found at times in the midst of Southern Alberta cucumbers. Then there are the treats - pastry, chocolate, wine, mead, cookies, and more pastry. Seriously, two great pie options here. That includes these gimmicky but very good pie pops.

The location is ideal for more that people in my neighbourhood. I predict that it will hit commuters well with the Macleod Trail location. If you commute that way how could you not stop? You have no excuse now.

Maybe it was because there were more vendors than shoppers that first morning, but I was hooked when one vendor loaned me cash when the ATM was down, another captured my runaway toddler, and one more kept the bag of groceries I forgot in her stall until I returned to claim them. I'm not saying you can't get great service at the grocery store, but in the months, as I get to know these people I hope that we can all laugh about the day my Evil Genius stole your stickers and ate all your goat cheese samples.

I Tried

2010-12-12T17:59:00.005-07:00

You win some, you lose some.

Today I lost the dinner battle. The girls didn't want to eat due to our own parental mistake of a late snack. We sent The Monster to her room for having a snippy attitude. (She now says "Double" instead of "Oh Man" when she's extra frustrated because that is short for "Oh Man, doubled.") Frankly, dinner wasn't all that great either.

It was supposed to be good. It was a meal that was going to make my preggo sister-in-law jealous when she logged in from the office tomorrow. Sticky, slightly spicy ribs, roasted potatoes, and coleslaw with orange and pomegranates. For dessert, gingerbread cake, her mom's recipe.

The ribs were tough. I cook them about once every few years, so that is totally my fault in assuming I knew what the hell I was doing. The sauce was great, a combo of the tomatoes and onions roasted with the ribs, tomato marmalade, molasses, sambal olek, and mustard. We would have been better off licking the sauce from the ribs than trying to, literally, pretend we were lions to get the girls to eat. Thankfully the coleslaw was tasty and I've got roasted potatoes down pat. The gingerbread cake tasted pretty good too, although, it fell.

No good pictures of our meal, no great leftovers. When I eat some gingerbread cake with my tea and a Bosc pear tomorrow morning it should be right around the time my sister-in-law arrives at work and starts her day. Know that I was thinking of you.

It's the thought that counts.

Caught in the Act

2010-12-08T05:58:00.000-07:00

Have you ever considered boycotting the entire notion of Christmas baking? Frankly, I'm sure most of us have at one time or another. We're so busy during December and stopping to bake a couple of dozen cookies for a swap, a party, or simply to steal from the freezer for the rest of the month is the last thing we want to do.

Then we see the covers of the magazines and every single one is a Christmas tree arrangement of glittery cookies tempting us back into the grocery store for butter and sugar. Our kids/partners beg for a batch of shortbread or some esoteric treat their mom used to make. Or the guilt hits.

Every year I swear I'm not going to do it. Maybe a batch of Chewy Chocolate Gingerbread or Peppermint Bark. But THAT'S IT.

And every year I bake 3 or 4 more kinds of cookies. Then I pretty much eat them all myself. What a Ninny.

So this year I vowed I wouldn't do it. I swore to my husband and my jiggly tummy that I wouldn't even buy the butter.

Then The Monster started prepping for the concert at school. It was all about The Gingerbread Man. In fact, a reenactment of the story. She's been walking around reciting the damn thing non stop. Then she asked to bake. I suggested gingerbread men. This brought on tears, full can't catch your breath sobs out of fear that our gingerbread men would run away after we baked them. We settled on gingerbread penguins and moose. Thank goodness there are no stories about runaway moose. At least none with catchy songs attached.

I pulled out the icing sugar, sprinkles, and ridiculously fake food colourings. It was craft time/kitchen time/treat time as far as the girls were concerned. It was a messy way to kill an hour. That's how I approached it at first. Still a Ninny.

The messier it got, however, the happier we all were. Grandma was visiting and happily iced the requested purple and pink penguins. We eventually laughed at the number of sprinkles underfoot, joking that one of us was going to wipe out like it was a pile of ball bearings and we were in a cartoon. My counters are stained and my kids ate more icing than cookies. There wasn't a single tantrum, by them or me.

No longer is Christmas baking about a pile of cookies in the freezer for the guests that might pop by. It isn't even about treats to share with the neighbours over tea. It is about process, the act of making. Baking and decorating cookies with the girls is like Jackson Pollack at a canvas.

Who cares that the cookies will likely not be eaten for lack of enough icing or the wrong sprinkles? They'll make me a little more Santa like, in spirit and with my jiggle.

For the record. We used this recipe from Julie for the cookies. The only change I made is that we cooked them for 10-11 minutes so they would be a bit softer.

Class

2010-12-05T21:56:00.003-07:00

I promise you that I cooked. Aside from our regular Sunday jaunt to the market, I actually cooked nearly all day. Unfortunately, I can't share it with you.

Everything I made today was for one article or another. None of which are due to come out until the New Year at the earliest. That means I can only tell you that I made apple kugel, butterscotch pudding, blackeyed peas, cardamom cookies, potstickers, and something called sabzi polo. I can't share a recipe or a photo. I'm sorry. If it helps, we ate this very eclectic meal for dinner and we are very, very full.

This is one of the advantages and disadvantages of the food writing gig. Sure, dinner gets made out of your work. That means your groceries are, in part, paid for. But after a day of cooking you are left with this really odd meal that you are too full to eat anyway.

Full confession: I totally sat and read a book with a beer in my hand when the light went and my mother-in-law arrived for a visit. Thanks, Susan, for playing hide and seek with the dinosaurs while I did nothing.

Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining about this new life I've chosen. I am getting more writing gigs. Being on my own with Hubby away as much as he's been is much more manageable now... sort of. And, no offense to my old colleagues, I don't miss the desk job at all. If anything, the hard part is giving everything the attention it needs. That includes the girls.

Truly, though, is there a mother in the world who thinks she spends enough time with her kids? Okay, quality time actually paying attention to them and doing nurturing activities?

If you are one of those mothers then I'm probably not the writer for you. Smilosaurus is losing her voice with a never ending cold and the realization that she might not be able to talk tomorrow made me very happy. Ridiculously happy.

So the kids watch a bit too much PBS Kids when I have a deadline. I'm not losing sleep over it. I feed them, and I feed them well. Tonight was a perfect example of that. Of course, with all that food I made all they wanted to eat was the spinach salad I served on the side.

Then Hubby still needed a snack. "There is nothing that goes better with kubasa than beer." We are a classy bunch.

Peppermint Chocolava

2010-12-01T13:13:00.003-07:00

Christmas baking has begun. In my world nothing Christmas can come before December 1st. Even that is pushing it. Then again, we are a house that leaves the tree up until at least the second week of January (for Ukrainian Christmas). A 6 week season is a bit much.

This month I have a cookie feature and a holiday potluck article in the Holiday 2010 issue of What's Up. Included are these Peppermint Chocolava Cookies. Along with some Hazelnut, Cherry, and Cocoa Nib Shortbread and Lemon Sugar Cookies. Pick up the issue for a fun treat, along with tips for holiday baking with your kids.

Feeling Green

2010-11-28T20:52:00.002-07:00

Can you tell what team we were cheering for?

Dinner tonight was in front of the TV. I know, not exactly a proper Sunday dinner. It was the Grey Cup, though, and that means a more than slight bending of the rules. (For my US and International readers, the Grey Cup is the big finale game of the Canadian Football League.) Dinner tonight was also at my parents' house. Seeing as they are from Saskatchewan, there was some green in the dinner.

We gathered, with the girls and my nephew running circles around us, in front of the TV. There was a pile of food. Mostly frozen puff pastry treats from President's Choice (not bad, all things considered). There was my Dad's salsa. There always has to be Dad's salsa when we get together. Then the spice continued with a giant vat of chili. A few beers too. Just a few, I was driving.

Saskatchewan lost. Seeing as I'm indifferent to football it didn't bother me. I was too busy remembering our Grey Cups as kids. Back then all available surfaces would be covered with Grey Cup tickets, a sort of lottery ticket. There would be score predictions on each one. It was my job to keep an eye on the tickets and remove those no longer eligible when a touchdown was scored. I kind of missed those tickets tonight. Instead, I kept myself busy with chatting, keeping the girls from driving my father nuts, and eating.

It's been an odd sort of weekend. I don't feel as bad as the Saskatchewan QB, but I'm not ready to put on my party hat. Instead, I want to just eat more salsa and drink more beer. I'm settled for the night, no more driving. I think that's just what I'll do.

No Empty Plates

2010-11-24T16:21:00.003-07:00

The American Thanksgiving holiday is bearing down. Showing all the regular signs of excess - over eating, over drinking, and even over socializing for many. Throughout the US, Canada, and the rest of the world, however, there are many staring down at empty plates. There are parents figuring out how to make one drumstick feed many or how to explain to their kids that there is no feast like they've seen on every single TV show and commercial.

If you've been reading the last few weeks of posts you've probably sensed my growing stress and frustration with parenting while Hubby works out of town. Aside from the loneliness, being home alone means you start staring at every corner of chipped paint, drop of condensation on the ceiling, and hair ball with growing disgust. If only he was home to deal with the house stuff. If only he was home to work on the basement so the family wasn't tripping over each other and our things. If only.

The truth is, I'm totally being selfish. We live in a house we own. Okay, the bank still owns a portion of it, but we can afford to make the payments. I am working part-time as a freelancer, without the worry of having to make enough to buy groceries. I have the luxury of purchasing most of the groceries at the farmers' market from local and mostly organic suppliers, including my meat.

I have a wonderfully middle class life and I should just shut up when I start whining about when I'll have a family room in the basement.

Jennifer Perillo (she, of the chocolate chip cookie fame) invited a number of other bloggers to share an empty plate this Thanksgiving. It serves as a reminder that while we chow down, many others will not. She is also invited readers to donate to Share Our Strength, to help combat child hunger.

Here, in Calgary, I also invite you to think of donating to the Calgary Food Bank (or the food bank in your own city. Me, I'm making a donation to Made by Momma. Based in Calgary as well, it is an organization of moms helping moms in need. Something that I can truly identify with.

Please think of helping out others and paying it forward with your Thanksgiving this year.

Other bloggers giving thanks:

Healthy Green Kitchen

The Adventures of a NYC Mama

Use Real Butter

Gravy

2010-11-22T06:16:00.003-07:00

It was the perfect Sunday dinner, minus the tantrums before hand. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts and carrots. There was even chocolate cake for dessert. There was no gravy.

Half hour before we were to sit down Hubby informs me that he isn't feeling well. That perhaps it is now his turn with the tummy bug making its way through our house. Sigh. It was at that point that I nixed the gravy. Actually, I might have told the gravy to go do something else.

As I realized last week, Hubby really is my audience. The girls could have cared less about a big roast beef dinner. In fact, they only wanted the chocolate cake. But I made them sit with me while Hubby moaned in front of the hockey game. Only one of them ate anything, both spent the entire meal screaming or singing, and I fought tears of frustration over my now cold roast beef. There may have been a tantrum or two as well.

The frustration got to me. One was sent to her room, the other to a quiet spot by the front door. I spent 20 minutes cleaning up after dinner saying, "No, you may not come out yet." Bring on the therapist's bill if it turns out they are gay and I control their honesty by my need to do the dishes in peace.

Honestly folks? I'm just cracking. Too much stress, too much work, too much single parenting, too much whining (on everyone's part). I think it's time to regroup. Anyone have a Mexican vacation they want to give me? A cabin in the woods with a personal chef/masseuse? No? I guess I'll settle for a hot bath, a good scotch, and a trashy book.

It was a good meal. It really was. Maybe, just sometimes, I should give in an let them eat the damn cake and we'd all be happier.

Love = Chocolate Chip Cookies

2010-11-17T06:42:00.003-07:00

For the record, a chocolate chip cookie is not just a chocolate chip cookie. Put aside the preferences for chewy or chunky, nuts or pure, cocoa or not. A chocolate chip cookie at its most basic is pretty much love.

Growing up they are the special treat doled out by Mom, whether she made them or not. Our first forays into adulthood are filled with Mom's replacements where we can get them on the occasion of loneliness, break-ups, girls' nights, and stress. When we get our own kitchen we bake them for our boyfriends and girlfriends and friends to give them comfort and happiness and a morsel of love wrapped in chocolate in butter. Then we have kids and we start the cycle all over, baking together and for them to pass on the love.

No one ever answers cinnamon pinwheel when asked what kind of cookies we should bake.

When the controversy over this post, by a pastry chef no less, blew up on my Twitter Feed all I could think about was chocolate chip cookies. It seems other felt the same way too. Check out this post from Abby Dodge, one from Gail at One Tough Cookie, and another one from Jennifer Perillo.

For days all I thought about were chocolate chip cookies. But Mama's had a bit too much love lately, if you know what I mean. Then Jennie responded and I couldn't not make cookies. And if you're going to to do it, then do it with this recipe and do it a few times.

I've been meaning to test out this concept of letting cookie dough rest since the original New York Times piece came out. Frankly though, there is never a world where I can make cookie dough and not bake it right away. Mama needs her love, as do little girls who helped make the cookies and fully expect one RIGHT NOW.

So, I planned a little experiment. One night, after the girls were asleep, I made the cookie dough, using this recipe from Jennifer Perillo. By far it is the best recipe I've ever made and she's happily letting me share it here.

All but two chunks went into the fridge for their little rest. Seriously, who can make dough and not eat a cookie? Waiting is the hardest part of baking chocolate chip cookies. I baked off two chunks for a late night snack.

Those two cookies, however, were not going to be enough to let me know the difference between a fresh dough and one that has rested for 36 hours. But they were tasty! That meant another bowl of dough was made. I used the exact same recipe and made them the exact same way. The only difference is that I had a 2 year old helping me the second time.

While The Monster was at preschool we baked trays and trays of cookies. I was worried about telling them apart, but it turns out that isn't a problem. The rested dough gets more golden in the oven and doesn't spread as much as the fresh dough. Difference #1.

Now I certainly don't need 6 dozen chocolate chip cookies in my house. We took most of the cookies to the playground for an after school treat, and an experiment. I walked around to all the parents and the teacher, asking them to try one of each cookie. I wanted to see if they could taste a difference and if so, which one they preferred. (The kids got some too, but they didn't care at all which bag they came from.)

The first surprise to me was that everyone could tell a difference between the two cookies, by taste alone. It was a subtle difference to me when the cookies were warm, at home. At the park, however, the difference was more pronounced. The fresh dough cookies taste sweeter. Difference #2.

People were trying to guess the difference and the guesses ran from the addition to honey or more sugar to potentially more butter in the freshly baked dough. The people who preferred these ones all thought they tasted more rich.

The people who preferred the rested dough cookies, however, often called them more decadent or gourmet. Personally, I found the difference was the cloying sweetness and that the fresh dough was almost a bit acidic, tasting it at the back of my tongue more than anything. The flavour, overall, of the rested dough is more sophisticated and frankly, mature. Difference #3.

What makes them technically different? Resting allows the liquids in the dough to be better absorbed. This results in a drier, firmer dough that bakes better. Hence, less puddling in the rested dough cookies. And a better texture overall when you bake the cookies to a precise just underbaked. It also encouraged better caramelization of the dough.

The remaining dough in my fridge (from both batches) was baked off the next day, topped with a sprinkling of fleur de sel. By far, my favourite version.

It's winter here now, I'm single parenting again, and I already have dough resting in the fridge for some post school and snow romp love.

Jennifer Perillo's Very Best Chocolate Chip Cookies

Makes 36 3 inch cookes (or 4 dozen slightly smaller ones)*

4 cups flour (18 ounces)

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

2 sticks butter, softened (8 ounces butter) (1 cup)

2 cups sugar (15 ounces)

2 tbsp molasses

3 large eggs, room temperature

1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate discs (or chocolate chips)

In large bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Beat butter, sugar and molasses until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and vanilla extract. Beat until well mixed. Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined. Stir in the chocolate discs (chips). Let sit in the refrigerator overnight before baking, and may be stored this way for up to two days. Yes, I realize this is the very hard part.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line baking sheets with silicon mats or parchment paper. Gently form dough into 1 1/2 to 2 inch (1 to 1 1/2 inch) balls and place 2 to 3 inches apart on prepared baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes (13 minutes in my oven) on middle rack. Remove from oven and let cool on pan for 2 more minutes. Transfer cookies to a rack to cool completely if you have any will power left.

*The notes in italics are my personal changes due to ingredients on hand, preferences, and my oven.

For an Audience

2010-11-14T15:57:00.004-07:00

Love stories are as varied as the people that make them. We didn't have farts at our engagement, but there was a fair amount of bird poop. Hubby proposed on an outcropping of rocks on the Ingonish beach. What's a few dead crab shells and a pound of poop to commitment?

I've spent the last few days devouring Gluten Free Girl and The Chef. More than a cookbook, it reads like a romance novel, minus the bad hair, pecs, and euphemisms. The subtitle does refer to the love story, and it is. A love story between two people, a love story of food and cooking. It is captivating, very funny, and full of the romance we all need in life. Even if you don't cook you want to read this book. Ask my girls, they've been flipping the page exclaiming YUMMY! at every turn.

Hubby has been home for 2 days now. That's 2 days of not working, a first for the last 6 weeks. This means he's exhausted and cranky. I'm bursting with the desire to talk about home renos, preschool gossip, and bedtime routines. Oh, and trying not to run screaming from the house to take a break. What we are doing is retreating, sleeping, and trying to find a little bit of rhythm again. Until he leaves again in another day.

One thing I've realized that with cooking for just me and the girls is that I really, really like cooking for my husband. He's an eater, not a cook. He's my audience.

When I can fill his belly with a warm meal that he didn't have to get from a crappy, small town restaurant I feel great. It isn't about being a good wife, I've already got that down. Food is love and I am totally guilty of showing my love with food.

Inspired by Shauna James Ahern and Daniel Ahern I decided to spend the weekend in the kitchen. Bolognese and cookies yesterday. Sunday, a Braised Pork Stew with Cabbage and Caraway from the book. I followed the recipe exactly this time - not something I do often - thus I'm not comfortable sharing it here. We were all filled with love, or just some lovely herbal, mustardy, and nourishing comfort.

If you want the fart reference and the recipe, then you best buy the book.

A Run-In, With Eggs

2010-11-10T14:20:00.004-07:00

Every now and then you have one of those eerie, weird run-ins with your past. The kind that remind you of just how far you've come in life and how happy you are with that journey. And sometimes you just run into a friend's ex girlfriend.

Sunday morning I gave the girls their bread with butter and honey. That wasn't going to cut it for me. I was also facing a surfeit of eggs. Instead of my usual scrambled eggs with salsa I pulled out a memory from our long ago partying days. We still lived in Edmonton and would drive down to Calgary on a regular basis to go out drinking with friends. For a while there we would stay at the house of our friend's girlfriend. One morning she made us these scrambled eggs.

They were the best scrambled eggs ever.

Normally I shun from such platitudes that involve the expression best ever. More than once I've been disappointed. But I've been more frequently disappointed with bad scrambled eggs.

A's technique was also very simple and perfect for lazy, hungover people. Now, as I'm older and wholly unable to manage a hangover, it is still perfect. Perfect for lazy mornings while the girls sit, mesmerized by Cat in the Hat, and I sip tea. Perfect for long brunches with friends or little girls.

Eggs and butter on low heat. Stir a lot. Cook very slowly. Eat the creamiest scrambled eggs ever.

Now that I'm kind of getting the hang of the single parenting thing I can, without too much stress, take two highly energetic and dramatic girls to the farmers' market by myself. This week we faced our usual challenges of impatience and spilled drinks. But we also embraced the energy of the bouncy castle, meeting an Olympian, loading up on Honeycrisp apples and brussels sprouts, and dancing like maniacs to the buskers. There my kids were, one moving her hips like a 4 year old shouldn't and the other nuzzled into me because it was past naptime, when A walks by.

The same A that showed me how to make those scrambled eggs. We haven't seen each other in at least 5 years. The relationship with our friend long since ended and our two kids later, it was a somewhat shocking reunion. We chatted and shared a quick story or two. I found myself only mildly freaked out by seeing my history and my past all together there. Mostly I found that I was proud of where I was - a mom with a hardworking husband and my crazy kids. Pleased that I wasn't waking up hungover in a sort of stranger's townhouse anymore, but by two kids bounding in to cry about bad dreams and lost blankies and could I please turn on their shows?

I never told her that I'd made her eggs just that morning.

The Maybe Almost Best Scrambled Eggs Ever

Serves how ever many you want, just multiply the recipe accordingly. Your cooking time will increase with more eggs and you may want to use a pot accordingly sized to the eggs you use.

1 tbsp butter

3 eggs

salt and pepper

1. In a small saucepan on low heat melt the butter. As soon as it is melted crack in your eggs. Stir well with a fork to beat the eggs well.

2. Cook over low heat, stirring quite frequently with the fork. Total cook time may take anywhere from 20-30 minutes.

3. Season with salt and pepper.

4. Optional - top with sauteed mushrooms, greens, or slow roasted tomatoes, if desired. Just please don't top with ketchup.

Iron Will

2010-11-07T21:05:00.003-07:00

He would have loved it.

Steak sandwiches with carmelized onions and radishes. Served on fig and fennel bread from The Bakery at the Market. The last of our CSA beets, roasted and tossed with white balsamic vinegar. Spinach salad with pomegranates.

Hubby is away again. Was he ever home? We all miss him terribly He misses us. Everyone is exhausted and cranky. We have to think big picture for this short term sacrifice of our normal family life. Dammit, it's hard. I was very tempted to serve popcorn for dinner again but steaks that I took out a few days ago needed to be cooked. And I thought we girls needed to sit down to a proper meal. Away from the TV, the computer, and a million library books.

So we sat together over some red meat and songs. And we talked about Daddy.

Hunting

2010-11-03T09:50:00.002-06:00

Hunting - According to a Preschooler

1. Get a Gun

2. Find and Animal

3. Kill it

4. Eat it.

Oh and Steps 5 and 6 involve bodily functions but I'd rather not get into specifics.

Go! And Stop

2010-10-31T19:55:00.002-06:00

"Can I have some candy? I don't care, I'm going to pull down your underwear!"

"Trick or Treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat. Not too big, not too small. Just the size of Montreal!"

These and the the screams of More Candy! More Candy! are echoing in my ear. The girls are off, speeding through the neighbourhod as fast as their costumes and legs will let them, trick-or-treating their hearts out. It may seem a little young at 2 and 4 to let them go. If you've got a problem with that, keep it to yourself.

Besides, who do you think gets all the candy?

Before I sent them out they were fed with a proper dinner. I'd love to say it was quick but, despite their impatience they still spent a half hour chatting and practicing their Halloween chants. This wasn't the night for a huge Sunday dinner. Roast, potatoes, and cake for dessert? Not going to hold the attention of my girls. Or frankly me, after a 10 day stint on single parenting.

Instead, I pulled out a weekday favourite: calzones. With a puffy, light dough that comes together quickly I can make dinner in about 20 minutes of active effort. It only needs an hour to rise and about 10 minutes to bake. The hardest part is waiting for them to cool so you don't burn your tongue on the fillings.

The recipe was developed for an article on after-school snacks for What's Up Families. Since then it's become our go-to pizza crust recipe in addition to the calzones. For pizza, stretch out the dough, top with sauce, tomato marmalade, garlic oil, or pesto and all your favourite toppings.

Calzones

Makes 8 hearty calzones

Dough

Fillings

Tomato Sauce

Shredded Mozzarella Cheese

Toppings - peppers, ham, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, fresh tomatoes, onions, olives, pepperoni

1 egg, beaten

1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees F. One section at a time roll into a rectangle about 8 inches by 6 inches. Cut in half at the 4 inch mark.

2. Top each half with a tablespoon of tomato sauce, leaving a half inch without sauce around all the edges. Add a half cup of shredded cheese and toppings of choice.

3. Fold each calzone in half, pinching and rolling over the edges to seal. Brush each calzone with the beaten egg.

4. Bake for 10 minutes. Let cool completely before eating as fillings will be very, very hot.

Hot Cocoa for Brett

2010-10-27T15:10:00.002-06:00

Not surprisingly, it snowed in Alberta this week. Saskatchewan too. (Hubby is snowed in there right now.) For all the grumbling of my mom and mother-in-law, it is actually expected. I remember more Halloween's with snow than without.

Snow means snowsuits, snow forts, snowball fights, wet mittens, and hot cocoa upon re-entry to the centrally heated house. Most kids these days are quite used to the package of hot chocolate, full of sugar and preservatives. Well, they don't know the last part, but they are used to the packaged taste.

I was watching some of my nephews and niece yesterday. All five kids ventured into the snow as soon as school was out. When the four youngest came in I set to making them a little treat. It was all for them, I swear. My 6 year old niece and Smilosaurus were keen on helping. I hope my brother doesn't mind them sitting on the counter. But they were quite into the whole process. I'm writing this post so my niece has the recipe for cocoa, she was trying really hard to memorize it yesterday.

Hot Cocoa - The Basics

1 serving

1 cup milk

1 tbsp cocoa

1 tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp vanilla

1. Heat the milk in a pot on the stove (ask Mom or Dad to help if Auntie isn't around)

2. In a small bowl, stir together the cocoa and sugar. Add a few tablespoons of warm milk. Stir well to make a runny paste.

3. Stir the cocoa and sugar paste into the hot milk. Add vanilla. Serve with marshmallows.

If you want to make this a little fancy, try some garam masala, chai spices, peppermint extract, orange zest, or raspberry syrup. And definitely add marshmallows. Personally, I am a huge fan of these ones from Aimee.

Friday Favourites - Channeling Baba

2010-10-22T06:54:00.000-06:00

As I learn to embrace my domesticity I find myself clinging to objects that celebrate my Baba. She was the stereotypical Baba - tiny, barely spoke a word of English, a garden the envy of Martha Stewart, and she thought everyone was too skinny. All summer she gardened and put food up for winter. All winter she cross-stitched and cooked. I'll never live up to her gardening, but I can embrace her other domestics arts.

This was her apron, just a cheap, commercial thing probably purchased at the Nu-Way store in tiny Hafford, Saskatchewan. Maybe she made it from material from the store? It's machine stitched, though, so I doubt it. She added her own flare with the extra large cross-stitch. I have two of these and I wear one every day. I would probably wear it all day but it is quite likely that I would forget I had it on when I went to pick up The Monster at preschool.

And the measuring cups are a new addition to the kitchen, purchased by a dear friend to celebrate my recent domesticity. They are such a fun treat in the kitchen and using them does indeed make me think of my Baba. With three dolls in the Matryoshka set I like to think it is three generations cooking together.

Backseat Adventure - Halifax Seaport Market

2010-10-19T07:04:00.005-06:00

Scaling the steps and the crowds of the Halifax Farmers' Market in the Alexander Keith's Brewery is where I turned into a farmers' market regular. The stone hallways, dark corridors, over-crowded landing spaces, the cacophony of vendors and buyers, and the refuge of steps where I ate my noodles at the end of the trip combined to make a comforting and chaotic shopping experience.

Every Saturday in University I would empty my forest green Eddie Bauer backpack, leftover from high school, and make my way from one end of the peninsula that is Halifax to the other. I could only fill that backpack, using student transportation - my feet - as I was. Except in the fall when a pumpkin was in order. On those days I would carry my pumpkin in front of me, a harbinger of pregnancy much later in life.

There was the Polish spot where I could get some garlic sausage and a pretty passable pyrohy. One man selling mushrooms from his dark barns. The 50 cent piece of maple fudge I got every week. My loaf of bread, always purchased last, even though it meant backtracking. (Walking the market was like walking in IKEA, minus the arrows on the floor.) And I always ended where I could buy brioche and apples. The eggiest of brioche and the most wonderful apples that 14 years after leaving Halifax I desperately miss.

It was with more than a little nostalgia that I planned a market visit on our recent trip to Nova Scotia. We were staying at the Westin, right across from the recently redeveloped Seaport area. I thought it was just the cruise ship terminal and Pier 21. The signs for the farmers' market thoroughly confused me.

Halifax Farmers' Market is the oldest market in North America. And these signs were proclaiming that. But it was for the Seaport market. What about the Brewery? A little digging turns out that the new market is the old market, just moved, but the Brewery Market is still open. Confused? I was, so I committed to checking out the new market.

The completely updated Pier 20, located right next to the cruise ship terminal, housing the Halifax Seaport Market is a green building. Solar panels, windmills, and a garden on the roof And a living wall inside plus geothermal heat make it a very green building. A large open space, divided into the main floor and a second floor loft make up one immense shopping area.

There is still the cacophony of sound, and the crowds were even more ridiculous than in the Brewery, but the energy was not lacking. Nor were the vendors. Four long rows of vendors selling seafood, meat, fruit, cheese, tea, crafts, coffee, wool, jam, bread, vegetables nearly to the rafters, and a unique Nova Scotia kindness as you walked by. Not a single fruit reseller to be seen, and a lot of dirty fingernails on the folks passing you your change.

I spoke to a few of the vendors about the move, the ones I can remember from 14 years ago or from more recent trips to Halifax. They said it was certainly an adjustment, but they were happy with the move. They were already seeing more sales at the new market because there were bigger crowds and accessibility was easier. Some maintained a presence at both markets - the Brewery Market is still open and now competing with the Seaport market, only blocks away. One vendor, though, confided that the new market was better and they were going to give up the old one.

It will take some time to settle into the new space. They need another ATM or two, better power hook-ups for vendors, and eventually they will be open more days of the week (only Saturday for now). Judging from the crowds, however, Halifax has already warmly welcomed the new space.

As for me, I was sad to miss my beloved russet apples (too early in the season). A few samples of wine and scotch from Nova Scotia made up for that. So did people watching from the second story loft while I munched on the best dolmades I've ever had and a fine baklava from competing Lebanese and Egyptian vendors. Then there was the delicate seaglass necklace I found and the aptly names Dragon's Breath blue cheese I carried home on the plane. I'll admit that did miss the mysterious corridors of the Brewery, but not enough to complain. And the new market was enough to make me renew my fantasies of moving back to Halifax.

More Pyrohy

2010-10-17T21:06:00.004-06:00

Pyrohy, I've decided, are a perfect Sunday dinner. The main reason for this is because Sunday morning many of us think to make bacon. Then we are too lazy to do the dishes before the birthday parties and errands so that pan with bacon grease is still sitting on the stove when the pyrohy are ready. And that pan is begging to be reheated and filled with just-boiled pyrohy for dinner. Yeah, Sunday.

Of course, I had to make the pyrohy first. Thankfully today I had company and a really well-timed nap from the girls. Andree and Gwendolyn came over for a little, old fashioned pyrohy bee. Well, really, I got the games started by making the dough then put them to work making pyrohy. And they were stellar for their first time ever!

We stuck with traditional fillings of mashed potato with cheese and bacon, plain mashed potato, and sauerkraut. Potatoes from our CSA and sauerkraut courtesy of my parent's suburban kitchen. I prepped it all this morning. And taking a cue from the lady's at my parent's church - home of a ridiculously large bimonthly pyrohy supper - we scooped and rolled our mashed potatoes ahead of time. Makes for faster and easier folding of the pyrohy.

(See the play by play here.)

Andree said that my babbling and instructions was like watching a cooking show. Minus the couch and red wine! I was a little chatty with pyrohy stories, who knew I had so much to say? Of course, that may have more to due with being surrounded by the kids for weeks now with little adult company than my extensive knowledge of pyrohy.

Did I mention the single parenting? That would also be why I needed pyrohy for dinner, with kale on the side, roasted carrots, kubasa, and the cookies both Gwendolyn and Andree brought us (chocolate chip with bacon and shortbread). And now I shall sit on the couch and drink my wine, with or without a cooking show.

Heart

2010-10-13T16:44:00.003-06:00

Kale chips not potato chips. Let's just get that out of the way. But they are better. But sometimes they are worse, way worse.

An old boss of mine had a heart transplant a little over a year ago. He was sick, very sick, for a young man. For awhile he was attached, and essentially kept alive by an obtrusive, loud, cranky machine. An external pump, if you will, that he carried around behind him like a business traveller and his carry-on through the airport.

Kale is one of the dark green, leafy vegetables that 'they' like to tell us to eat, and eat often. Nothing but good stuff in them. Loads of vitamins, beta-carotene, and even calcium. One of the key vitamins in kale is Vitamin K, very good for blood coagulation.

And blood coagulation is very bad for men with external heart pumps.

But now, with a new heart pumping and no carry-on luggage, those dark green, leafy vegetables are back on his plate. And because potato chips are supposed to be off that same plate I am offering up this recipe.

Kale chips are an addiction in this house; a favourite way to use up the abundance from our CSA. Yes, the girls like them too. Kale chips have a crunch that disintegrates as soon as you bite into them. They do taste green (which is a good thing) but they also carry the taste of the salt and spices you toss them with as soon as they come out of the oven.

So, if you are a salty snacker, try adding kale chips to your bowl. Ridiculously easy to make, fast, and full of real flavour that you control. Snacking at its best. And new heart approved.

Kale Chips

1 bunch kale - purple, green, or lacinato (or a combination

Olive oil

Salt

Seasonings (smoked paprika, truffle oil, seasoned salts, cumin, black pepper, chili powder...)

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

2. Wash and dry the kale very well. Cut out the stiff rib and cut the leaves into 1-2 inch pieces.

3. On a rimmed baking sheet toss the kale with a light drizzle of olive oil. Go easy on the olive oil to have crisper chips.

4. Bake for 10-12 minutes. Give the kale a gentle toss halfway through.

5. Remove from the oven and toss with a generous sprinkle of salt and seasonings of choice. (Smoked Paprika is our favourite.)

Thanksgiving

2010-10-11T07:58:00.005-06:00

I am thankful for:

... A family who loves me even when my crazy comes out.

... Farmers who works hard.

... My new career.

... Knees that still walk for me, even if I can't ski, skate, or run anymore.

... Curious, feral daughters.

... Friends that stick with you.

... Indian Summer

... Our kids being at an age where they will disappear and leave you to have adult conversations with wine.

... Scotch and fat pants.

What about you? What are you thankful for this year?

BS

2010-10-07T14:43:00.004-06:00

Brussels Sprouts. There I said it. The big, ugly, cruciferous vegetable. And one of my favourites.

The only thing that makes me more excited than the arrival of Honeycrisp apples in the fall is the arrival of those thick stalks, heavy with their tiny cabbages.

Truthfully, I'd never had a brussels sprout until I was an adult. What my mom didn't like, we didn't eat. Not so for my girls. They don't start salivating at the sight of green, but they will eat a nicely roasted sprout topped with hazelnuts. And what they don't eat Hubby and I will gladly devour.

With Thanksgiving coming I have a proliferation of CSA veggies to use for dinner. I won't be shopping for any specific dish, just using what my farmer has so carefully grown for us. So I'll pick up my turkey at the market, maybe grabbing some sausage for stuffing. But I cannot, will not, forego my brussels sprouts at dinner.

Our favourite way to cook the sprouts is roasted. Simply cut them off the stalk, trim any errant leaves, and toss with a bit of olive oil. Roast in a 400 degree oven for 15-20 minutes, depending on the size. When they are done drizzle with a bit of good balsamic and sprinkle on some toasted hazelnuts or pecans. Even better when you throw some pancetta in the mix.

Here are some other good brussels sprouts recipes to share. Some I've made, others I just want to get to, maybe this weekend?

Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad with Walnuts and Pecorino (fantastic!)

Brussels Sprouts Chips

Scalloped Brussels Sprouts

Garlic Sauteed Brussels Sprouts

Cream Braised Brussels Sprouts (oh wow! these are good)

And speaking of Thanksgiving, I had two other posts this week talking about my favourite holiday. One on survival tips for the big dinner, and another on the second most important side dish (after brussels sprouts, of course), mashed potatoes. Seriously, it is my absolute favourite. What's your favourite holiday?

Browned Butter Sunday

2010-10-04T06:14:00.005-06:00

After finishing 5 articles in a week (recipe testing included) and single parenting for most of that time, frankly, I didn't care much for Sunday dinner. The fridge was full of food, the girls spent the afternoon munching on late season strawberries, cheese, and a cantaloupe, and we were all getting downright cranky.

That left only one option for dinner - popcorn.

When I told the Monster that we were having popcorn and I would find us a movie to watch she got so excited that she literally burst into song. Then, on her own volition, she start cleaning up the living room to make it ready for dinner at the coffee table. Hell, if that's what it takes I'm thinking dinner like this everyday!

Not all was lost when it comes to a good Sunday dinner though. When we returned from the market and I went to refresh the fruit bowl I had some mealy peaches and sad looking apples and pears to contend with. Then there were the ripe peaches that didn't make it home intact from the market and a few half eaten apples courtesy of the girls. The only option was to make a fruit crisp.

The girls got grains and fruit for dinner. I am not a bad mom.

While cutting up the fruit (just a pile of what we had, peels and all) I had this notion to try browning the butter to the crisp first. I guess some part of me was still able to be creative. The butter melted and crackled away on the stove. Then it occurred to me that I never really know how brown is technically browned butter. Turns out I've not been browning enough all along. So I kept it on the stove and got to the lovely browned bits.

In the end, I could have left it a bit longer, I think, but it had that rich, nutty smell and some good colour. Even though I was making crisp, I must confess that the smell only made me think of lobster. I must still have Nova Scotia on the brain.

Once the butter cooled a bit I made up my regular crisp topping. Frankly, I could have eaten it straight, and did so for a few nibbles. It was rich with a butterscotch goodness and with a slightly lighter texture from using melted butter. I am never making crisp any other way, ever again.

And I refuse to feel bad about taking the time to treat the girls and sit quietly in front of the TV. Roasts and veggies are nice and all, but Sunday is also about family. After such a hectic and trying week sitting down together, this time with snuggles, was a much better option.

Browned Butter Fruit Crisp

Filling

4 cups fruit

2 tbsp brown sugar

2 tbsp flour

1 Tonka Bean/1 tsp cinnamon

Topping

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup flour

1 cup rolled oats

1. Chop the fruit into 1/2 inch chunks. Peeling is optional. Gently toss with flour, brown sugar, and spice. Pour into an 8 by 8 baking dish.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

3. In a small, stainless steel pot on medium low heat melt the butter. Then let it cook , swirling the pot every now and then, until it turns brown. As the colour starts to come to it, watch it closely. It can burn quickly.

4. Once the butter is browned nicely, pour it into your mixing bowl and let cool a few minutes. Admire the colour and dream of lobster. Then add in the brown sugar and stir. Once combined add the flour and oats.

5. Crumble on top of your prepared fruit, trying not to snitch too much along the way.

6. Bake for 30-40 minutes until the topping is crisp and more than golden and filling is bubbling.

Sailing and Chowder - Wordless Wednesday

2010-09-29T00:11:00.002-06:00

Fiffer Feffer Feff

2010-09-19T21:21:00.003-06:00

Dessert first.

It's just been one of those days - full of 2 year olds being 2, 35 year olds being pissy, and everyone trying their best to just get along. And stay together.

I indeed started and ended my day with a slice of apple pie. The first of the season. Talk about comfort eating. Just the way the apple peel releases from the flesh under the cut of my paring knife is enough to inspire relief in the heart. Apple pie is comfort cooking. Hmm, maybe I should be making another pie right now?

Why so much stress in my retirement and new career? Well, I've been sick (sniff) and Hubby has been pretty much gone for a week. The first few days actually felt pretty good. I thought I was handling things so well. It certainly makes a huge difference to not be gone for 10 hours a day at a job that crushed me. By now, however, I'm cranky and fuelling myself with tea all day, and a chocolate and scotch once the girls go to bed.

This weekend I thought I better buckle down and be a good mom. I tried. Hey, I only lost Death Wish once at the market today. And I did my best to take responsibility for that one, although we all know that she took off while I dealt with her spazzing sister. But today is Sunday and so rather than heat up leftovers I thought we all deserved a proper dinner.

Enter the roast chicken. Take one chicken, a giant clove of garlic, and a lemon. Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Pat the chicken dry, smash the garlic clove, and stuff the lemon and garlic in the cavity of the chicken. Salt, pepper, and a little bit of olive oil. Place in oven. Cook for an hour or hour and a half (depending on the size of chicken). Eat.

The Monster asked for potatoes and tomatoes to eat with the chicken, so I roasted some potato coins and made a salad. At least I roasted a chicken. And we sat down together, us girls, and ate our Sunday dinner while singing songs about a Fiffer Feffer Feff. And then we ate pie.

Peel Me a Grape

2010-09-15T14:56:00.003-06:00

There are times in the kitchen where experimentation fails in a colossal way (note to self: stay away from the curry) and other times where a little 'why not?' turns into 'why have I never?' With a pile of Coronation grapes being snubbed by The Monster I needed that why not.

Why not put grapes in muffins? We put raspberries, peaches, apples, and even pineapple in muffins, so why not grapes? You really don't see it much though. And I'm not sure why.

Hopefully, after you see these muffins you will change your mind. There was some Twitter chatter about this a day after I made the muffins, with Jennie going all out to seed her Concord grapes. I am far too lazy for that, so thank goodness the Coronation grapes are seedless.

The base for this recipe is my basic muffin recipe (find it here) with some grapes and roasted, skinned, and chopped hazelnuts added in. With the the girls I have much better luck with muffins when I bake the mini kind. Mama doesn't like that because I eat a lot more that way! This recipe will make 12 regular sized muffins or 24 mini muffins.

Grape and Hazelnut Muffins

1 cup hazelnuts

1 3/4 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup small grapes (I used Coronation)

1 egg

1 cup milk

1/4 cup olive oil

1 tsp vanilla

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Spray a muffin tin with non-stick spray or grease with butter.

2. Roast the hazelnuts (unless already roasted) in the oven on a cookie sheet. Roast for 10-15 minutes, giving the pan a shake every now and then. Be careful not to burn them. Pour them into a clean kitchen towel. Wrap it up loosely and rub the nuts with the towel. The skins should come off easily. Don't worry if not every bit of skin comes off. Aim for most of it. Le the hazelnuts cool while you assemble the rest of the ingredients.

3. Combine the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and sugar in a medium mixing bowl. Combine the egg, milk, oil, and vanilla in another bowl.

4. Chop the hazelnuts coarsely, on the smaller side, but don't worry about any larger chunks.

5. Toss the chopped hazelnuts and grapes with the dry ingredients. Add the wet ingredients and stir until just combined.

6. Scoop into prepared muffin tin and bake for 15-20 minutes, until tops are rounded and golden.

Dirt in my Freezer

2010-09-09T15:07:00.006-06:00

It might be the Ukrainian in me, but I am incapable of throwing away good food. And I feel inordinate guilt if I forget about leftovers or a head of lettuce in the fridge. That would also be the Ukrainian in me.

With a really good haul from our CSA this year I've been forced to face these issues head on. It's one thing to throw away grocery store produce that you paid pennies for and was grown and picked by a random stranger in Mexico. It's another thing entirely when you get the lettuce in your hands was placed there by a man with permanent dirt under his fingernails. The same dirt that still graces your carrots, your onions, your greens.

* Aside - As I read that last paragraph it occurs to me that is just as bad to throw away the grocery store lettuce because there is still a person there with dirt under his fingernails. *

Our farmers, Jon and Andrea are such committed people. We light up when we see them at the market, where we pick up our weekly haul. The girls go running and asking after the horses and roosters, all while ripping greens with their teeth. We shoot the shit about the weather and yuppies and our egg man. And food passes hands.

Then we come home and I am forced to deal all that food. On a day when I'm just so damn tired I really don't feel like finding room in the fridge, grating zucchini, or freezing chard I sometimes leave the bag on the counter for hours, even a day. Then I remember the dirt. The dirt I'm invested in. The dirt our farmers are invested in. The dirt this food was grown in. So I sharpen my knives and set too. Far better to have trimmings in the compost pile than real food.

We clean, we store, we cook, we freeze, we eat. And so we will eat for another week, thanks to the phenomenally hard work of Jon, Andrea, their family, and their WOOFers. And in January, I will make another loaf of this zucchini bread, some swiss chard fricos, or a bowl of gingered carrot soup and be thankful for that dirt.

But now? Now I need to head back in the kitchen and make some beet leaf cabbage rolls.

Backseat Adventure - Columbia Icefields

2010-09-06T21:08:00.003-06:00

It was a day trip turned into overnight. It was a long weekend turned into a very, very long weekend. But the girls are in bed and I can pore over my photos of our trip to the Columbia Icefield.

Can you believe that as a lifelong Alberta girl I've never actually been to the Icefields? Only one drive by as an adult, in the middle of winter, where we were mostly concerned with merely safely arriving at our destination. So when Hubby suggested a road trip I couldn't really say no, could I?

Poor planning on our part led to a frantic search for mittens and boots, a stop at the mall, and not enough snacks. But we grabbed the last Ice Explorer monster bus and got our canned tourist experience. And it was so worth it! The mechanical geek in Hubby was quite enthralled with the monster bus, as was the Monster. (Guess what her new career aspirations are?) And all of us were blown away by the expanse of the glacier.

All I could think was, "Holy Crap! I'm standing on a glacier!" And it makes me want to reread Icefields by Thomas Wharton. We had the pre-packaged experience, I know, but it was still awesome. And despite my, I'm struggling to describe it any other way.

While I don't think the girls could grasp the immensity of what was in front of us, they could grab the ice, lick it, and ask why the mountains were so big. Soon enough we'll have them hiking and maybe even backcountry skiing to grow up as good mountain girls.

Sunday dinner was at 9:00 pm. After a day of road tripping and exploring we landed in Banff. it was late, we should have grabbed something easy and put the girls to bed. We should have done that.

Instead, we ventured out to Maple Leaf Grille and Lounge. After a day of nothing but mediocre snacks Hubby and I decided we wanted a good meal. While I'm not sure the late night with the girls was worth it (it was close to midnight when they finally fell asleep), the food was pretty damn good.

But the best thing we ingested all day was the water, running in a stream, over a thousand feet of ice.

In My Dreams

2010-09-01T14:01:00.004-06:00

When I started blogging I had only in mind a medium in which to practice writing, something I hadn't done regularly since I was a teenager. My on-line presence was a chance to share my creativity, getting it out there in the hopes that someone else was inspired.

About a year ago, however, things changed for me. Writing, creating, and thinking about those things became a compulsion. I attended the Okanagan Food and Wine Writers Workshop last September. And while I was blown away by the food and highly entertained by the company, the experience gave me a clarity and focus to my future. I was driven to find a way to change my life to make this my work, not designing energy efficiency programs.

Today marks the first day of that life full-time. Over the past 8 months I've been building up a freelance writing base. Have you seen me at What's Up Family yet? Or at Simple Bites? What about Babble? But it is time to do more, to be more. I've quit my job and my networking chops are already being tested. I will now call myself a freelance writer.

But not only this, I also be home with my girls. You could call me a work at home mom. (In all honesty, I hate that term.) In between bed time and morning, and during the naps that still occur you will find me writing, creating. When my girls are awake you will find us in the kitchen together, or around the table creating, reading, chatting, living.

To celebrate this momentous morning I turned to another of my dreams. Quite literally, this was a dream. The more I've been on line the more I've found myself dreaming of people I've never met. It seems I'm some sort of unconscious stalker. The last dream I had involved Kim, her in-my-dreams-only rooftop garden in NYC, and these peach basil pancakes.

It seemed only fitting that I pull out everything from my dreams on a day when my dreams are becoming a living reality.

Peach Basil Pancakes

Makes 12 small/medium pancakes

3/4 cup flour

1/4 cup corn flour or light corn meal

2 tbsp brown sugar

1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

2 tbsp chopped basil

1 peach, peeled and chopped

2 tbsp butter, melted

1 cup butter

1 egg

1. Combine all the dry ingredients in a medium bowl. Toss the basil and peaches in with the dry ingredients.

2. Stir together the wet ingredients. Mix the wet into the dry. Stir until just combined. Let rest while your griddle or frying pan heats up on medium/low heat.

3. Pour the batter into the griddle 1/3 cup at a time. Cook until the bubbles on the surface form and start popping. Flip and cook on the other side for another minute or so.

4. Serve with cherries or syrup of choice.

Stew

2010-08-29T17:47:00.007-06:00

It all started with a few turnips. After a number of attempts last summer to like the turnips we got in our CSA delivery I was looking for another way to try them. Gail gave me the motivation after she shared what she did with our CSA delivery. And the weather has made a decided turn towards fall, being chilly and rainy today. A perfect day to have the oven on all day, with meat slowly cooking inside.

In short, a perfect day to make stew. And this is how I did it.

Get some meat. My entire family purchased a cow this summer. Well, my parents bought it and shared it with all of us. (Thanks!) So the beef stew meat came from that cow. And somehow I thought to defrost Italian sausage with it. Not sure why, but it paid off. And I was lucky, our butcher cut the meat into chunks for us.

Spoon a couple of tablespoons of flour in a bowl. Season it with salt and pepper. Today I also added some ground Ethiopian Berbere spices I have. Go with what you've got. Sometimes it is thyme and oregano, sometimes paprika, sometimes it is nothing. Stir it all together.

Toss your meat in the flour and spices to get well coated. Do it a handful at a time. About as much will fit in your pot without crowding. Make sure all sides are coated. Not only does this help the meat brown, but as the stew cooks, the flour helps thicken the sauce.

Heat up some olive oil or vegetable oil in the pot you will use to cook the stew. For this, I always turn to my trusty dutch oven. In small batches, so the meat isn't crowded, brown the pieces of meat. Most recipes will say to brown on all sides, but some of my pieces were more rhomboid than rectangular. Quite frankly, I can't be bothered to turn my meat 6 or 7 times. So as long as the big sides had colour I was happy.

As your meat browns, put it in a bowl. That way, if any juices run out you capture them.

While your meat is browning, chop up an onion or two. How much depends on the size of onion and how much onion you actually want in the stew. I also chopped up some garlic, roughly.

Because I'd defrosted them, I decided to add the sausage. And because I was lazy, I cooked them whole in the stew. (When I added the veggies later I took the sausages out, sliced them, then tossed them back in with everything else. It beat taking them apart raw.) At this point I browned the sausages and softened the onions and garlic. This is all still in the same pot I where I browned the beef.

By now you can see that stew is about layering flavour. The next step is to deglaze the pan. More than anything I use beer, but sometimes wine. This beer was leftover from a party we had the other night. So I took a sip from the beer, then poured the rest in the pot. When you add alcohol to a hot pan it bubbles wildly and with a few scrapes of the wooden spoon, all those brown bits that look like burnt stuff came off the pot and to flavour the liquid. To this I added two cans of tomatoes. Not the juice, just the tomatoes. And I squished them in my hands as I added them.

After that, the meat goes back in the pan, with any accumulated juices. Then the whole thing goes in the oven at 200 or 250 degrees F for a few hours. Yes, hours. You could also cook it on the stove, but I find the oven requires less attention. And frankly, stew is supposed to be about hands off cooking. Well, once you do all the stuff before this step.

After a few hours it was time to add the veg. You could add it all at the same time, when you first put it in the oven. Perhaps, though, you need to go to the farmers' market and pick up the carrots and potatoes because all you have are turnips in the house.

Cut all the veg into about the same size - 1/2 to 1 inch pieces. Throw them in the pot and let it all cook for a few hours more. At some point you should taste and season it. To mine I added some dried thyme as well as salt and pepper.

When Hubby and I first started dating we actually argued over the best way to eat stew. I was firmly in the with bread camp, and he preferred his over rice. Well, the day he makes the stew he can have it over rice. Today we had it with a loaf of wild rice and green onion bread from The Bakery at the Market. It was a fantastic compliment.

The stew was gently flavoured, with perfectly cooked meat that even my 2 year old could cut with her spoon. The sausage lent a sweetness and another texture. And the turnips? They softened slightly sweet, with just a touch of peppery bite. Just different enough from the potatoes, and about the best way I've ever had a turnip.

Blueberry Maple Ice Cream

2010-08-25T06:53:00.003-06:00

Today I'm over at Simple Bites. It's all about taking a moment to just stop. No canning, no thinking ahead to apple pie now that the weather is turning, no worrying about Sunday dinner. Just stopping to take a look around and enjoy what we've got, right now, in front of us.

And right now I have blueberries. Plump BC blueberries are still all over the markets. My girls eat them by the handful. Me, on the other hand, I can be rather indifferent to blueberries. I enjoy them when added to other things or baked, but I'm not an out of hand girl when it comes to the orbs.

My favourite to enjoy blueberries is actually cooked down with a bit of maple syrup, to be served on pancakes, waffles, or yoghurt. I was making a batch of my blueberries when it occurred to me that it might work really well with ice cream. Not on ice cream, mind you, but in ice cream.

It's a good thing I am addicted to making my own ice cream because it means the canister for my ice cream maker is always in the deep freeze when not in use. And, I always keep cream in the house now. So this recipe came together in just a few minutes. And for dinner, we were licking our bowls clean.

Blueberry Maple Ice Cream

Makes 4 cups

2 cups blueberries

1/2 cup maple syrup

2 cups cream

2 tbsp cup maple wine/maple liqueur/creme de cassis.

1. Cook the blueberries in the maple syrup over medium heat until the berries just begin to pop - 3-4 minutes. Put in the fridge to cool, if you've got the time.

2. Blitz the berries in a blender, adding the cream and alcohol. Alternatively, mash the berries with a fork then combine with the cream and alcohol.

3. Churn in an ice cream maker and freeze until firm. Serve drizzled with maple syrup.

Whispers and Screams

2010-08-22T21:10:00.003-06:00

Sunday dinner this week was a victory on all fronts. The girls ate soup for dinner and Hubby ate zucchini without knowledge/complaint. Woohoo!

We spent the weekend in Edmonton, visiting family and taking in Alegria by Cirque de Soleil. Surprisingly, we got out of Edmonton at a decent hour so we were actually home to enjoy part of the afternoon. Unfortunately, a storm hit the second we arrived. There went the plan to take the dogs for a walk. So, it was into the kitchen instead.

Smilosaurus and I set to dealing with the two ridiculously large zucchinis we had from our CSA. Rather than go with the typical chocolate zucchini cake, I pulled up this recipe for zucchini cake with crunchy lemon glaze. We grated, we cracked eggs, we sifted, we stirred, we baked with the thunder as our soundtrack.

While the cake baked I had to figure out what the heck to eat for dinner. Standing in front of the deep freeze the last bits of last years summer - slow roasted tomatoes, chard, white beans were staring at me. So I grabbed some frozen stock, the veg, and set to make soup. Except that I didn't look so closely. I actually grabbed soup, not stock. So, dinner was souped up soup.

One of the soup additions was some leftover diced zucchini. And Hubby ate it and didn't complain. I realized when he told The Monster to eat her soup, and pointed out that it has potatoes in it, that he didn't have a clue he was eating zucchini. Shh, no one tell him.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-08-18T22:40:00.003-06:00

Realizations

2010-08-15T22:13:00.005-06:00

The Monster is a temperamental child. She will be fantastically fine, happy and cheerful 95% of the time. But then you tell her no to just the wrong thing and not only is she upset, like any 4 year old, but the world ends for her. It is infinitely frustrating and one of the biggest challenges of parenting for me.

Up until a certain point today we were all enjoying a lovely, late summer ease. A quiet morning with bread and jam for breakfast. Our normal Sunday morning jaunt to the farmers' market for coffee and a few groceries. The girls napped while Hubby and I sat on the porch swing chatting and petting the dogs. It was all good.

Then I had to go to the grocery store. And another, and another. And I spazzed, yelling at people in traffic and getting right cranky. Then I had a scary moment of clarity. The Monster is me. Yikes, I made her that way. (I'm sorry Mom and Dad.)

I was still spazzing when I got home, but then I started cooking. I had tomatoes in the oven, slow roasting. I added some peaches, then popped a pork roast in. Smilosaurus helped me tear kale for kale chips. And my bad mood dissipated as quickly as it came. Just like we send The Monster for a quiet time when she is being unreasonable, I found my quiet time in the kitchen, making Sunday dinner.

A little while later we welcomed an old friend to our home. We cracked some beers. We caught up on travels, the farm, and the challenges and smiles of parenthood. We devoured the meal in front of us. And when The Monster lost it when Hubby took away the cheetah babies after she hit her little sister with them all I could do was hang my head in laughter at the realization that I indeed made my kid.

Pork Loin Roast with Roasted Tomatoes and Peaches

2 pints cherry tomatoes

4 tbsp olive oil

salt and pepper

1 1/2 tsp coriander seeds

3 peaches

2 pound pork roast, boneless rib end

1/2 onion

1 tbsp fresh mint, chopped

1. Preheat oven to 275 degrees F.

2. Wash and dry the tomatoes. Cut in half. Place cut side up on a large cookie sheet. Drizzle with 2 tbsp olive oil and season well. Grind 1/2 tsp of the coriander seeds and sprinkle over the tomatoes as well. Place in the oven.

3. After an hour cut the peaches into quarters. Tuck them in among the tomatoes.

4. Pat dry your roast with paper towels, keep it tied up as you bought it. Season well with salt and pepper. Get the remaining 2 tbsp oil hot in a roasting pan or dutch oven. Brown the pork on all sides, leaving it for a couple of minutes each time to get good colour. Move the roast to the side, add the onions and remaining coriander seeds (left whole) to the pan. Cook for a couple of minutes, then move the roast back to the middle of the pan. Cover and put in the oven. Increase the heat to 325 degrees F. Roast for 1 hour.

5. Check the internal temperature of the roast. It should register at least 140 degrees F when you take it out of the oven. Keep it covered in the roasting pan, it will continue to cook a bit more as it rests.

6. Place the tomatoes and peaches on a serving dish, top with chopped mint. After the pork has rested 10-15 minutes remove strings and slice. Serve with tomatoes and peaches.

Introductions

2010-08-13T22:01:00.006-06:00

A photo essay on my first conscious gluten free baking experience. Lauren from Celiac Teen came over this morning, a date arranged shortly after we realized we only lived blocks from each other. Through a rainy walk she brought with her a backpack full of flours. We were going to make pie.

The girls took to her immediately, probably assuming she was some fantastic creature known as the babysitter. Their excitement was no less once they realized we were all going to bake together. We donned aprons, we measured flour, we drank tea while our pastry chilled. Then we cut up peaches and plums to mix with blackberries and tonka bean. And while our galettes baked the little ones chased us around the house. It was comfort and chaos all at once. Welcome to our home, Lauren.

And the pastry? Fantastic. It tasted great raw, and even better cooked. It was a tender dough to work with, so I worried that it wouldn't be very flaky. I was wrong. To be honest, you would be hard pressed to pick out out from a conventional pate brisee.

We filled it with our fruit, a touch of sugar and millet flour and a whole tonka bean grated in. The crust we brushed with cream. The galettes baked for 30 minutes. And after our conversations we sat silently with our tonka bean sweetened cream on top of our galettes. Silent only as the four of us devoured an entire galette for lunch.

Summer = Watermelon and Bathing Suits

2010-08-11T06:34:00.002-06:00

Wordless Wednesday

The Letter S

2010-08-01T21:20:00.003-06:00

Pardon me while I get sappy.

You see, this week I've also been recovering from a medical issue. It's made me tired, shaky, and mopey. So this afternoon, after I put some tomato sauce in a slow oven to come together, I took a nap. Wrapped in the arms of my husband. It was the best nap ever.

So tonight's dinner was spaghetti and meatballs, and for dessert, strawberry ice cream. More specifically, strawberry sour cream ice cream. It was the slightly more elegant version of Baba's berries and cream. It was all comfort food.

The ice cream recipe comes from, who else? David Lebovitz. All the recipes in my books were custards and I didn't have many eggs in the house. So a little search led to many, many descriptions of this ice cream from The Perfect Scoop. It seemed like fate considering the pounds of strawberries I bought at the market and my own need for comfort.

But no amount of comfort food can replace the love of your best friend.

Strawberry Sour Cream Ice Cream

(With great thanks, perhaps literally as I don't actually own The Perfect Scoop, to David Lebovitz.)

1 pound strawberries

3/4 cup sugar

1 tbsp vodka

1 cup sour cream

1 cup heavy cream

1/2 tsp lemon juice

1. Rinse, hull, and quarter your strawberries. Toss with the sugar and vodka. Let sit for an hour or so.

2. Add in sour cream, cream, and lemon juice. Blitz with a hand blender, leaving it as chunky as you want.

3. Chill for an hour. Process with ice cream maker. Freeze until ready to eat.

Season by Season

2010-07-30T09:20:00.003-06:00

It's been a rough, rough couple of weeks in the Arkison household. Give us a few more weeks and we should be back on track.

This week, however, as been for snuggles, rest, and comfort. But a family can't live on ice cream alone. Is there any other summer comfort food? The other day I was desperate for a peach, I wanted the juice to drip off my chin and the scent to tickle my nose with summer pleasure. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that we were driving through Peachland on our way home from a funeral.

In sharing with a friend she mentioned that the only way to get through times like this is day by day, then season by season. As a food obsessed kind of gal, seasons are a strong marker in our lives. We eat by the seasons, therefore we live by the seasons. And I'm someone who is hard pressed to actually pick a favourite season (although I usually answer winter, when asked.) So as we recover from the latest round of flurries to the solar plexus I sought comfort in summer.

This is my Baba's raspberries and cream. Smilosaurus called it ice cream and The Monster declared she didn't like it. To me it was my Baba's old people smelling hug in a stifling house, arms covered in scratches from the raspberry canes. It was the weeks in the summer we were sent to Saskatchewan, which we hated at the time, but now I cherish. It was family, it was generations, it was summer treats.

Oddly, I used frozen raspberries for this. It was what I had. And, to be honest, it was what we usually used if it wasn't that exact berry season. Strawberries work equally well. If you are using frozen berries, thaw first and drain off excess juice. Baba usually used regular white sugar, but I like mine with brown for that punch of extra flavour.

Berries and Cream

Equal parts mashed berries and sour cream or farm cream

Sugar to taste.

1. Stir together. Eat. Be comforted.