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Boxes, Boxes


I’m not a "hater"…at least I don’t think I am, anyway. I don’t hate most things that most people I know happen to hate. I don’t mind traffic or waiting in line in the bank. I am perfectly fine with Brussels’ sprouts, snails and yes, even hospital food. Hatred is something I reserve for precious few things in life and honestly, I can only think of one thing that falls into that category right now.

I don’t think there is anything I loathe more than living out of boxes. Perhaps I dislike the packing of said boxes…or maybe I hate the act of having to purge prior to packing those boxes. It’s difficult to decide; thankfully I get to do all three things simultaneously these days.

Everything suffers when you live out of boxes.

Wardrobe: I wear basically two or three "outfits" because everything else is packed. I have limited things to wear to work and try to pretend they are different by wearing my hair differently each day so no one will clue in (right…).

Entertainment: the television and all of its accoutrements are packed. Enough said. Even Leith’s books are packed, forcing me to read "Guess How Much I Love You" every. night. like. clockwork.

Diet: my cookbooks are out of commission (see above). My kitchen is also packed, save for a few cracked plates and cups and old cutlery. Even my beloved KitchenAid is packed up in its box, waiting by the kitchen table, to travel to its new home. I swear if I never see another take-away menu or box of frozen hamburgers again it will be too soon.

It’s times like these that I am happy and just a little bit proud of something I did way back in December, not thinking at the time that it might just be a decadent life-saver come August. You might recall my recipe for Chili Pepper Jam. I gave jars, along with jars of Cranberry Chutney to some very lucky people. I kept a few to myself, hoarding them for use on special occasions; a dinner party here, a cheese tasting there, a quiet, candlelit meal for the two of us once.

As I was packing the kitchen pantry the other day I came across one last jar of the Chutney. I had been thinking of ordering pizza for dinner but spotting that ruby-red jar spelled out an amazing dinner instead. As we munched on our left over roast chicken sandwiches with chutney and goats cheese on rosemary buns from the local bakery, I smiled. I was thinking about how I’d found the jar and how I might not have noticed it if I hadn’t had to pack that day.

I suppose I don’t hate packing after all.

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What’s for Dinner?

I ask myself that every day. I ask my husband that almost every day. I ask my three year-old son that on a disturbingly regular basis. I constantly query friends, co-workers, people I run into in the elevator, on the street, on the streetcar, at the grocery store.

I am flustered and tired and uninspired and not in the mood to cook. It’s too hot, work has been too difficult, we have no food, we have too much food, there is no mood music, the lighting is all wrong in the kitchen (and so are the floors and the walls and the cupboards and the counters). I have lists of excuses on my Ipod that I use as reasons to order take-away or cook painless dinners for my boys on a regular basis. I talk myself into meals that require very few ingredients and very little effort; I have mastered the art of toasted cheese sandwiches and my sister even presented my son with a dinosaur sandwich cutter so at least he has “fun” shaped sandwiches in the midst of my recent culinary crisis.

Continue reading “What’s for Dinner?”

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Love is in the Air



There are things you say and do when a close friend or family member gets married. Congratulations are expressed, love is extolled and hopes for their future life together are articulated. There are dresses to be picked out, flowers to be chosen and food (oh, so much food) to be decided upon, taste-tested and decided upon again. A lot of hard work and planning goes into a wedding (trust me, I know) and by the time the day arrives most couples are exhausted and left wondering why they didn’t just spend the money on a trip or a house or a new car.

Somehow I doubt my sister-in-law and her soon-to-be betrothed will end up feeling that way. Their wedding (coming up in July of this year) has been planned within an inch of its life. Gorgeous invitations have been delivered, delicious food has been ordered, beautiful dresses are bought and waiting (except mine of course!), the perfect hairstyles have been rehearsed and even the wedding cake itself has gone through its very own "dry run". S.’s youngest sister A. has been planning this wedding for as long as she can remember and I know it is going to go down in history as one of the most fantastic days of her life.

Recently a shower was thrown in her honour and I offered to bring a little something sweet for the party. I thought about it for a long time, trying to decide just what would work best. I knew she was making a cake (the aforementioned "dry run") and I certainly didn’t want even attempt to compete with that, so anything chocolate was certainly out of the question. I thought about ice-cream sandwiches and about flower-shaped cookies decorated in petal-pink icing. I considered mini-cheesecakes and tiny vanilla cupcakes. Nothing seemed like the right thing for a spring-themed, pink-hued shower.

Then I remembered a scone I had eaten last spring from Starbucks – a tiny, buttery, vanilla scone with a sweet milky glaze. Yes, that was it. I set to work early that morning and made a large batch of the cutest, tiniest, heart-shaped scones. Piling the dainties on a platter with a bowl of strawberry butter alongside was the perfect addition to a very girly, very sweet shower.

Congratulations to A. and O. I know your marriage will be just like these scones; sugary-light and happy inside with a dollop of buttery tartness to keep you guessing.

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Cheese-a-Rama

Recently I was lucky enough to be the recipient of a "care package" of Grand Prix cheese from the Dairy Farmers of Canada. With this offering in hand I hastily organized a modest cheese tasting at my house with S., my sister, her boyfriend, Randy, Leith and myself in attendance. While Leith offered little more to the situation than a few mmms, ahhs and more, pleases, I don’t think it is ever too early to nourish an appreciation for cheese.

The beautiful, warm spring day was coming to a close with a flash thunderstorm as our guests arrived. We gave them the official tour of our house (Randy had never been to our place before), as Leith ran circles around everyone offering toys and potties and cookies whenever a break in conversation allowed. After the niceties we adjourned to the living room and settled into some serious cheese tasting.

The rather generous sampling included 5 selections:
1. Kenogami from Fromagerie Lehmann in Quebec (the 2009 Grand Champion and winner in the washed-rind cheese category).
2. Le Ciel de Charlevois from La Maison D’affinage Maurice Dufour Inc. in Quebec (winner in the blue cheese category).
3. Cows Extra Old Cheddar from Cows Inc. in Prince Edward Island (winner in the Old, Extra Old Cheddar category).
4. Evanturel from Thornloe Cheese in Ontario (one of the finalists in the soft cheese with bloomy rind category).
5. Island Bries from Little Qualicum Cheeseworks Ltd. in British Columbia (one of the finalists in the soft cheese with bloomy rind category).

I have to be perfectly honest here: I adore cheese. I could probably live off it if it wouldn’t kill me to do so. I like soft cheeses and hard ones, mild cheeses and moldy, stinky ones. Every time I walk into a cheese shop it takes me a very long time to make a choice and I will often have to take a small sampling of at least five or six before narrowing the list down to a scant two or three. Cheese goes with everything and does truly make just about anything taste better.

My name is Jennifer and I am a Cheese-aholic.

So what did we think of these three award winning and two finalist cheeses? To put it in a nutshell (mmmm, nuts go well with cheese) we liked them all. They were all delicious and well rounded in their flavours. It was a fantastic selection. If you want a few more detailed comments, I am, of course, happy to oblige.

1. The "Kenogami" has a mild aroma filled with herbs and flowers. It has a mild buttery flavour and a soft, supple texture. It was the "Grand Champion" in the Cheese Grand Prix and I believe it held up to this title in my own cheese tasting. We all really enjoyed it and thought it was definitely a cheese we would want to try again and would likely recommend it to friends in the future. I think it would be delicious melted on a roast beef sandwich and did in fact manage to save a few small bits to melt on a hamburger the next day, which was amazing.

2. The "Le Ciel de Charlevois", a fairly mild blue, was creamy and had a lovely and not over-powering bite. My sister loves blue cheese and this one certainly did not disappoint. It would be the perfect cheese to use in an onion tart or in blue cheese biscuits where the flavour would not be too overwhelmed.

3. The "Cows Extra Old Cheddar" was the only disappointment in the group. I am a HUGE fan of old cheddar, and I was expecting more from this award-winning sample. It was milder than expected and simply did nothing for us on any level. I did melt it on some crusty foccacia a day later and though it looked deliciously brown and melty (is that even a word?) it still just didn’t measure up in terms of flavour.

4. The "Evanturel" was an interesting brie-style cheese with a line of edible vegetable ash running through its centre. It had an aroma of mushrooms and earthiness and an especially smooth texture. I did a little research and Brian O’Connor, the executive director of Thornloe Cheese, is quoted as saying, "We think the ash makes the cheese a bit creamier – that it has a hygroscopic effect and draws moisture into the cheese itself." Whatever it does, this cheese was creamy, delicious and definitely something I would want to eat again, and again, and again.

5. The "Island Bries", with its quirky name, was quite possibly the creamiest brie I have ever tasted. Brie is hardly an exciting cheese next to the alternatives; it has been around forever and hasn’t really changed much. As Randy said, we’ve been eating brie since it was "cool" in the 80’s – what more can they possibly do with it?! We all ate our words once we tasted this creamy, buttery cheese with a velvety white rind. It is officially my new favourite brie.

It was a great evening and we all really enjoyed the selection of cheeses we tasted. I’d love to do it again – but I don’t think that comes as a surprise, considering my addiction admission from earlier. A big thank-you to the Dairy Farmers and their honorable judges for shedding some light on the fantastic cheeses available across Canada.

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…And the Living is Easy…???

As a moderately busy family with a small child, we tend to have a difficult time getting everyone together without someone throwing a temper tantrum (and by "someone" I mean any of the three of us). Between all of our work, school and social commitments, often the only time S. and I are able to share quality time with Leith is during dinner.

Anyone who has a toddler or preschooler will understand when I say that dinner is not our finest hour. Leith is acting persnickety, I am flustered and tired from a long day at work and if S. is not actually in class, he is studying, working on a paper or grading tests and papers. Lately, it has been more than tempting to simply throw the meal on the table and allow everyone to just zone out in front of the television. I hate to admit it, but we actually do that sometimes. I am aware that this doesn’t qualify as quality time spent with my family and recently have been trying to think of new ways to optimize our "witching hour" to get the whole family together, on gracious terms.

When it comes time to prepare dinner, Leith is always buzzing around the kitchen looking for something to play with or snack on. I have started trying to involve him in the cooking process – either by helping out in the kitchen or just simply allowing him to pretend cook on the kitchen floor. He loves to get ingredients out of the fridge and can be trusted to cart items to the counter and back (he’s even managed to lug eggs from the fridge to the counter without dropping them!) while I am cooking. He has also recently graduated to tasks such as cracking an egg, mixing ingredients by hand, adding various ingredients to the mixer, separating onion slices and piling on pizza toppings. There is nothing wrong with a boy who likes to cook.

Depending on how busy a given week is, I do still see the importance of organizing at least one night when we can all enjoy each other’s company for more than a few fleeting moments. I urge S. to abandon his text books and computer, and we all sit at the table, with the television off and talk about the food, or what we did that day, or our plans for the upcoming weekend. Sometimes we even try to have some fun with this "special" night by having a themed dinner like homemade pizza night or cooking Leith’s favorite breakfast food ("Bacon and eggs! Bacon and eggs!" he chants) for dinner. This is a great way to bond and cook up a creative and tasty dish that all of us enjoy. Family time shouldn’t be limited to eating whatever happens to be on the table – it should also include the fun and creativity put into the meal so that everyone feels included and excited for the delicious dishes ahead.

Along with having the right cookware sets, I have a few stand-by recipes that are good for these sorts of evenings – I hope you will try them with your family and let me know what secrets you have come up with for dealing with the dinner-time disaster hour.

(1) Brie and Asparagus Tart
(2) Creamed Corn Cakes
(3) Spinach Pesto Pasta with Chicken
(4) (Dino) Chicken Fingers
(5) Eggplant Parmesan Panini
(6) Pizza
(7) Stromboli
(8) Mom’s Cream of Broccoli Soup
(9) Simple Samosas

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Bella Bene

This past Saturday S. and I re-celebrated Valentine’s Day together. Well, not exactly “re-celebrated”, since we didn’t quite celebrate V-Day the first time around, a month ago. V-Day is a dirty word in our house as neither of us really enjoys the idea of “commemorating” our relationship on one singular day each year when everything is over-booked, over-priced and over-done. We decided to have a fight on February 14th and sleep in separate quarters instead. So when S. told me we had better re-celebrate it to ensure we were still married in a year I agreed. And I am so very glad I did.

Continue reading “Bella Bene”

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Hitting the Spot


Never one to need an excuse to indulge in a little bit of comfort food, I really, truly deserved some last night. Actually, what I was honestly worthy of last night was a husband without his nose buried in a book and two essays to make me dinner, but let’s not get into that right now. Where was I? Oh yes, comfort food. I needed it badly last night.

You see, we have very nice stairs in our lovely, slightly run-down 100 year-old house. They are oak and nicely polished. They’re a bit narrow but no one has yet to fall down them so we continue to put off covering them with carpet for the time being. I like our stairs, but someday someone is going to really hurt themselves falling down them.

Yesterday in the mid-afternoon Leith and I were getting ready to head out to visit my parents. I was busily gathering the necessities (diaper, pajamas, sweaters, sippy cups) and attempted to hurry past Leith on the stairs so I would be in front of him on descent. I’m not sure why but I still like to hold his hand or walk close to him on the stairs, even though he is always very careful and very steady on his feet these days.

Of course, I have no idea from whom he inherited those steady feet because I am a certifiable klutz. I fall all the time and am always sporting one if not a few lovely, eggplant-coloured bruises. I fall going up the stairs. I fall when walking across flat floors. I have even been known to fall when standing still. So why do I tempt fate and rush up or down our precarious stairs in slippery socks?

I won’t go into the gory details but I think I have bruises in places that most people never even thought that they could get bruises. I have a few scraped knuckles and a very, very sore bum. Today, walking was difficult, bending was painful and sitting for more than 20 minutes at a time was excruciating.

Needless to say, some comfort food was in order last night. After Leith went to bed I managed to stand up in the kitchen just long enough to make some truly delicious corn cakes. They hit the spot, and trust me, I know all about hitting since yesterday.

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Friendship, Sweet Friendship


Friends are amazing – long term friends, short term friends, friends you see only at work, friends you see once a year, friends of the family, friends who live close, friends who live far. “Friend” is one word that is really indefinable – it can expand or contract to cover any number of different people in your life at one time or another.

I generally tell people that I don’t have a lot of friends – life is easier that way, really. I don’t feel obligated to help a bunch of people move or to invite a whole lot of people over for brunch or even feel as though I have to talk to a myriad of friends on the phone or communicate with them via email. I have just enough friends – some whom I almost never see and some who I see on a regular basis. Some with whom I have a great deal in common and have known for what seems like forever and some who I am only still just getting to know. All of them are important in different ways and each of them offers me something that I can’t get from anyone else…whether they know it or not.

One friend who I don’t know quite as well as I would like is Kat. I know a lot about her and her life and her husband and her son, Max – pretty much all through her blog. But as far as friendships go, the two of us haven’t even scratched the surface yet, although I have a feeling we will in time.

Recently, Kat’s son Max was diagnosed with Autism, and when I first found out it was a complete shock. Max is only two months older than Leith…so you do the math I was doing in my own head. I know quite a bit about the Autistic Spectrum; I’ve met kids with the diagnosis and worked closely with them and their parents. That next week I searched my own still non-speaking child’s face for signs I had been hoping would not appear in any child. I was over-reacting and Leith soon after started speaking (I think he was saving his speech until he knew he could really irritate us with “WHY” and “CUZ” and “NO” and “BANANA CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS”) and there were no other remote signs. But Max didn’t get better. Max got worse.

Kat and her husband have ridden the storm with him and he is thankfully doing quite well now. Kat, on the other hand, is up to her armpits in legal mumbo-jumbo trying to get funding for her sweet child to have treatment for his diagnosis.

A few Christmases ago, Kat and I decided to do a “sweets exchange” with each other. My decadent Peppermint Bark for her tantalizing Cranberry Almond Bark (shown above). I have to say it was one of the nicest gifts I received that year and I savored each and every one of those delicious cranberry almond chocolate shards. Friends can indeed come in handy – especially friends like Kat.

Right now Kat needs some support…and couldn’t we all at one point or another? So if you want to support a friend, please go to Mabel’s Label’s and vote for Fickle Feline 2.0 (voting closes Feb 23rd at noon) to send this amazing mom of an autistic boy to Chicago so that she can continue to advocate for funding for Autism through her blog.

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Murphy’s Law


Everyone has days when they wonder why they got out of bed, don’t they? I know they must – I can’t possibly be the only one.

You know what I’m talking about. It’s raining outside and your alarm clock goes off. You stumble to the bathroom only to stub your toe on the door to the linen closet and hobble through the door while narrowly escaping being hit in the head by the hook on the back of said door as you close it. Through some kind of minor miracle you don’t drown in the shower but you do discover your hair conditioner is all gone and somehow there is no soap. A makeshift set of ablutions later and you carefully pick your way through the land mines of toys and make your way back to your room.

And the day only continues along those lines.

Slam your finger in filing drawer.

Catch your finger on a staple and snag it.

Papercuts.

Puddles.

Coffee spills.

It seems that the world is indeed trying to tell you to go home and go back to bed, but for some unknown reason you refuse to listen. You soldier on through the day of dreadfulness, just looking forward to being home again. Home is your sanctuary – at home you will relax and put your feet up and not have anymore accidents.

Of course at home, waiting for you is the world’s largest IKEA dresser, that for some reason your husband has decided would be best for you and your 2 ½ year-old son to put together…together.

A few hammered thumbs (yours) and a couple of pinched toes (his) later and the dresser is together. No one is missing any body parts and there are only a few screws and bolts left over. You decide to treat your little helper to something really delicious for dinner and make one of his favourites: home made fish sticks. Your asbestos fingers take yet another beating at the hands of your oven but your son smiles as his takes his first bite. All is good with the world.

Of course it is only later, when your husband arrives home and points out that you put the drawers together inside out that you start to shake and very carefully climb back into bed and pull the covers up over your head…praying that tomorrow will be even just slightly better.

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Solace in Sustenance

I woke up this morning on the wrong side of the bed. I stomped to the shower, scrubbed my scalp raw while grumbling about how decent people don’t get up before the sunrise everyday and glowered at my red, dampened reflection in the mirror. Tempted to drape myself in black, I donned a pink cashmere turtleneck at the last second in an attempt to cheer myself up.
It didn’t take.

I got to work, slammed a few drawers, stomped around haphazardly for a while and tossed some papers on my desk. I wandered into my co-worker’s office and snarled "I’m in an awful mood today". And turned to go. I hadn’t been looking for justification or for encouragement or even a bright response. I had just needed to tell someone that today was not going to be my day.

Apparently this week is one of the most depressing of the entire year (how is it that we are already depressed when the year has hardly begun??). Something about how winter is still looming infinitely in front of us, we’ve already failed our New Year’s resolutions and Christmas debts are piling up.

I think for me it has more to do with the fact that I get up long before the sun has breached the horizon and don’t tend to get home from work until it has sunk beyond the horizon. I forget what it feels like to feel the sun on my cheeks and how it feels to need to wear the sunglasses that have hibernated at the bottom of my bag.

So I try to cook "sunlight" into my foods. I cook with fruits and vegetables that remind me of the warmer days of spring, summer and even the early fall. Apples, peaches, pears, berries all play featured roles in my desserts while squash, vine-ripened and sun-dried tomatoes and roasted corn headline in my main courses. I think eating fresh fruits and vegetables helps me keep my head from clouding over when the forecast calls for frigid temperatures and little or no sun.

After eating one piece of this apple coffee cake I felt much better. It cheered me up, filled up my stomach and set my brain on the right track for the rest of the day.