Spice and Ice

The recipe for Fava Beans with Yogurt and Crunchy Bits called for a few ingredients I didn't have. I improvised with baby soy beans, a teaspoon of homemade masala, and some Pinehedge Farms kefir.

So satisfying! Biting down on those squeaky beans, tossed with chopped spearmint and fresh lemon juice. The crunchy bits - sauteéd bread crumbs, finely chopped red onion, garlic, cumin, coriander, ginger, and dried chilies - are very spicy! But that's where the kefir comes in. Cools everything off just like it's supposed to.

$2.22

So Much Better on Holiday

Some Bunny

Main Bunny, what will I do without you?

Enjoy Yourself

A Matter of Time

If, like me, your 'family tree' emerged from a pastiche of transatlantic crossings, diasporas, and house fires, heirlooms may be hard to come by. So, the objects I've inherited, I guard like little eggs.

Like this Osterizer, which my parents gave to me when I 'left home' for the first time. Apparently, almost thirty years prior, Lorraine had been daydreaming about making her own baby food (if, someday, she happened to become a mother). Jack, thinking that sounded like a plan, bought her a twenty-speed blender the day she telephoned him to say that she was pregnant.

And did they ever make baby food. My brother and I ate what they ate: fried eggs, Swiss chard, elbow macaroni - helped along by this shiny locomotive. Later on, the blender was pressed into use as a smoothie maker when the little girl of the family turned out to have a 'sensitive' constitution (and palate).

Now the blender is over 30 years old. And that little girl still loves every single thing about it: the bent faceplate, the powerful motor (encased in that sexy chromed base), its heft, the colors of the plastic buttons, its old-fashioned two-prong plug, the chip in the glass pitcher, the story of its birth, the sound of its churring and chewing, and its unfailing dependability. Adam and I use it every single day.

A long way from home, but not so far when you think about it.

As You Wish

Hansel und Gretel

"It's really hard to get German chocolate in Germany," Paradiso tells me. "It's all from Belgium!"

But she managed to find Hachez, a company that makes 'feine vollmich-chocolade' wrapped in this cheerfully-designed paper. And 'feine' it is. Smooth and soft as Gretel's bum.

Mojito Man

1. Bash up 6 mint leaves.
2. Pour 1 oz simple cane sugar syrup, 1.5 oz white rum, and 1 oz lime juice into glass.
3. Add mint.
4. Top with club soda and ice.
5. Stir and let sit for 5 minutes before drinking. You have to do this step to get the full flavor of the mint oil into the rest of the drink.


Adam figures he churned out about 40 of these last night for our party. Then tonight, he made a geriatric version for us just by omitting the liquor. They really capped off the slow bike tour we did around the neighborhood at dusk. Did you feel how warm the air was tonight?

In the Nick of Time

Good thing Cindy and Tony made a housewarming of this German paring knife! Already, I've had fun imagining myself dicing and chopping on those days when nothing soothes the stress better than 4 inches of razor-sharp stainless steel.

And for self-defense, of course. A girl can't be too careful these days.

Half of Me

Welcome Home

I've blogged before about Paticceria Gelateria Italiana (where Christina and I got that loving feeling last November). And I've blogged about my friends Julie and Amirali (who have since generously delivered a large tin of individually-wrapped Gaz candy).

Well, at our long-awaited housewarming last night, Julie and Amirali brought us a load of treats from Paticceria Gelateria Italiana, which happens to be smack-dab in the middle of Julie's new neighborhood. First was a shiny chocolate fish and a pair of love mice, complete with chocolate ganache bodies, almond ears, and dark brown eyes. Then came a cardboard box filled with piped butter cookies in orange, mocha, coconut, chocolate.

I feel utterly spoiled and, as always, grateful for dear friends.

Sail Away With Me

Pre-lunch Snack

Vilmas Handbakat Knackebrod is available in Sweden. This one was Rag Havssalt flavour. You can substitute with a Ryvita-brand rye crisp if you like, but it won't be quite as delicate. Either way, slather whatever you've got with a thin layer of Gorgonzola and some sort of sticky jam. I used quince paste on my first try, but this one is organic New Brunswick grape jelly. Who knew you could grow grapes in the Maritimes?

Fruit Salad

The little bean on the right is Bananica: a chocolate coated 'foamy dessert' from The Bosnian Deli on Merivale. The electric-yellow insides taste like children's medicine. Stick to 'Bananko' brand, which is lighter and less artificial-tasting.

If you won't go for banana, how about the most delicate candied orange peel covered in fine milk chocolate? Purchased at Made in France on Dalhousie.

Long Lost

If you see this man, tell him to call his sister.

Leaving So Soon

Feels Familiar

In Season

This cold salad was one of those dishes I made in my imagination first and then put together in a bowl. Lately, we've been dutifully eating bunches of short-lived asparagus. The latest way was with Scotch barley, green onion, a pile of fresh mint leaves, a good glug of hazelnut oil, S&P, and the juice of half a lemon.

Main Bunny

I bake for you!

TLA

When we give from the heart, we do so out of a joy that springs forth whenever we willingly enrich a person's life.
- Marshall Rosenberg

A whole pineapple upside-down cake was baked just for me this morning and hand-delivered by my darling, dearest Main Bunny. She packed this bunny-sized skillet-cake with fresh pineapple, pureed oranges, coconut oil, ground cardamom, and Demerara sugar.

Really nothing makes me ever feel so loved as being fed.

Giving a Fig

A sun-dried Shirazi fig. Another classic Iranian snack introduced to me by Amirali, via Jules.

Just Friends

Adam and Travis out on the town at Vina del Mar, Hintonburg's spiciest new spoon.

Milky Baby

Another guy who brews a nice pot is my very own Adam. He just boils up some hot water and steeps whatever kind of loose leaf tea he finds in the cupboard. Once it cools, we keep it in the fridge, mixing it with milk and buckwheat honey or maple syrup each morning.

Chris' Coffee

Most times when I have caffeine, I either get a headache or an upset stomach. But I love the 'lift' I get from a strong cup of coffee, so - on occasion - I make an exception.

One of them is for a cuppa made by my friend Chris. A year and a half ago, he bought himself a $1300 Quick Mill Vetrano from a place in New York called Chris' Coffee. He says he chose the QMV because it's the best machine at that price point that can be fully plumbed into a water line and drain. Also, it won the 2006 Coffeegeek Editor's Choice Award, convincing Chris that this was the right machine for him.

Yet, Chris tells me that the secret to good coffee isn't the machine, but rather, the grinder. He claims that "you can make better coffee with a $300 grinder and a $5 single-cup drip pour-over than you can with a $20 blade-grinder and a $20K commercial siphon machine."

But to believe the taste of Chris' coffee, he would have to pour you one in person. Over six feet tall and lanky as a beanpole, he's got all the makings of a proper barista. While he's working the machine, he tells great gossipy stories, dropping his voice and tilting his face for dramatic effect, all the while wiping and blotting with his clean, white tea towel.

And the result is so much more satisfying than something slopped out in a paper cup by an yawning university student. When Chris finally hands you your drink, he fairly bursts with pride and surreptitiously awaits your first sip.

Stockholm 2

In my mind, there is an elevator door.
And a sculpture beyond that where I can hide.

Easy as Sandwich

cucumber, sundried tomato, and grape seed mayo on a toasted kaiser from the Portuguese Bakery

After two overwhelming and unproductive weeks back in Ottawa, I'm already craving the eat/walk/eat/sleep cycle of our vacation. Since food is often a direct way of producing any emotion worth having, I gave 'simple' a go today for lunch.

Ms. Potato Head

I wanted to use up the last of my winter potatoes this afternoon and I couldn't think of a better way than by making a spicy, creamy roasted-potato salad. So I parboiled and then steam-dried five Yukon Golds before cooking them down in a hot oven until they got dark and chewy. Once cooled, I tossed them with a clove of finely-minced garlic, three chopped green onions, a small handful of shredded basil, some sunflower oil, the juice of half a lime, a couple teaspoons of chili flakes, and just enough grape seed oil mayonnaise to make it creamy.

We'll see what the old man thinks when he gets home from practice. I bet he eats the whole container.

Gaz

Have you ever had this before? Julie asked, handing me a piece of Gaz candy, wrapped in a shiny, peach-colored wrapper. No, no I had not. Especially since, as Julie informed me, you can only get this particular brand in Iran. And in her boyfriend's hometown of Isfahan, nonetheless.

I thought they were full of cardamom and Julie guessed saffron. But as it turns out, that mysterious flavor is gaz angebin, a sweet, sticky plant residue harvested by insects and left on treetops. Also, there's a bit of rosewater mixed in, plus egg whites and pistachios. What a perfect summer chew. Maybe if I'm awfully nice to Amirali, he'll ask his Dad to bring me a whole box next time.

Training Wheels

Sarah Waterson

half-marathoner; coleslaw slinger;
rescuer of small, forgotten objects.

Surf's tough, dude

Heal up soon, Ty.

Stick a Fork In It

We're done! And now there's nothing left to do, but enjoy the spoils. Good thing I picked up these palm-sized sporks at the Dansk Design Centre in Copenhagen.

Hot, Sweet, and Greasy

These churros* from Portobello Market were chewy, chocolaty, and came in a paper cup. When something this good is bubbling away in a vat of oil right in front of you, resistance is futile.

*Thanks to Lucy for giving me the heads-up about this delicious snack. What am I gonna do without her?

Last Day

Last day in London, last day of the trip. Tomorrow morning, we fly out of Heathrow.

Yesterday, we were in heaven at Harrod's food halls, buying enough to fill an entire piece of luggage. We ended up at the Tate Modern in the afternoon, and while we had a great time, our favorite part of the afternoon was a late dinner at Leon with brown basmati, poppyseed slaw, roasted sweet potato patties, and chicken with yogurt sauce. Thanks to Bunny for tipping me off about this place.

Today though, Adam gets to see his favorite cousin, David. I expect to have a fairly soggy boyfriend by the end of the night as hanging out with David seems to increase Adam's taste for beer.

Jolly Good

Made it to London. Barely, it seemed. I had an allergic reaction on the plane. We don't know what caused it, but my face, nose, and lips swelled up considerably. Thankfully, two Benadryl fended off whatever danger I was in. Still...a scary position to be in when you're directly above the North Sea in an airbus.

But then something magical happened. We woke up in London where English is the first language and 'fisk' is deep-fried instead of pickled. Breakfast was greasy and good. We've been blowing money left and right, taking the tube all over the city, and enjoying the damp, English air.

Adam feels like he's come home.

Stockholm via Malmo

Yesterday, we took a packed commuter train to Malmo to connect to a larger passenger train to Stockholm. Arrived at Central Station last night and made it to our hotel on the underground (dubbed the longest underground art gallery in the world, as the tunnels are carved out of exposed rock and painted with murals).

Our hotel, The Rex, is in the commercial, downtown area of Stockholm, home to big department stores, cafes and organic bakeries, and hundreds of colorful low-rise apartment buildings. This morning, we chilled out in The Rex's quiet breakfast room, where the humble spread included smoked ham, salami, raisin bread, flax bread, cream cheese, sour milk (like runny yogurt), muesli, fresh vegetables, and apple juice.

The weather is rainy and grey, so this morning we bought warm things: wool mittens and a plateof jam-jam cookies at Cafe Blom, shivering outside in the old town to watch the changing of the Royal Guard. Quite a fanstastic sight to see the shiny, custom-cast helmets and hear the heart-thrumming drums.

Stockholm is situated on a series of small islands, connected by municipal ferries and wooden pedestrian-friendly bridges. After lunch, we clomped over one of those bridges to Moderna Museet. For the longest time, I stood staring at a black and white wall sculpture by Italian artist, Marcello Mondrini, feeling so comforted by its repeated sling shapes, which hung satisfyingly low. As I described to Adam how nice I thought it would feel to be one of the objects inside, how nice to just be held and supported, I found myself crying at the thought: just to be held.

My own tiny Dala Horse. Adam named him Alvar.

On the Move

Yesterday was one of Denmark's many stat holidays, so we rented bikes and rode along one of the pretty canals that run through the centre of the city. On the way home, Adam spotted an underwater sculpture called 'The Merman and Seven Sons.' It was chilling and delightful to watch the eight copper heads (three of them green from oxidization) come closer and then bob farther away as the water lapped over them.

Last night, we were slightly sunburned and totally wiped out. Good timing as we're taking the train to Stockholm this afternoon.

Afternoon Treats

If you ask for a 'danish' in Copenhagen, you are ordering a prostitute. We just use the point and grunt method when faced with numerous options at bakeries. You can't go wrong when everything is flaky and liberally-laced with the national drug: pure white sugar.

Drinks are so much better in Europe. Instead of floating our brains in beer from 10 am until bedtime (as seems to be the local custom), we're hydrating with fresh fruit and vegetable juices, plain yogurt drinks, and flavoured milks by Matilde.