Photo credit: www.irishoakforests.com

St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, is a bit of a mystery. Many myths and stories of his early life swirl about, including the tale of Patrick ridding the Emerald Isle of all its snakes. That myth has been debunked, put down to hundreds of years of, shall we say, overly colourful storytelling. Imagine that, the Irish, telling a colourful story! Well, personally, I'm glad the snake is not associated with the celebrations, 'cause it's hard to find snake meat around these here parts.

It was always a religious holiday in Ireland. The day, March 17th, marks the day of the saint's death in the 5th century. Because the date falls right in the middle of lent, this day was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. Church was attended in the morning, then all bets were off--just for one day--with drinking, music making, dancing, and feasting on traditional dishes, such as bacon and cabbage. The next day, it was back to lent. It wasn't until it was brought to the New World that it became an excuse to go a little crazy, wear green, and be Irish for a day. According to Patrick McMurray, owner of the authentically Irish pub, Ceili Cottage, in Toronto, "St.Paddy's is not hugely celebrated in Ireland. Tends to be an "away" thing. Something the ex-pats, and those who emigrated, whether by choice or not, celebrate to remind them of their heritage." However, in 1995, the Irish government decided to market the day as a tourist attraction, and now the day is celebrated as far afield as Japan and Russia!

And what is it all about here? Green beer, greasy pub grub--Irish nachos?--and extreme excess. Fine if you're a 21-year-old frat boy with a cast-iron stomach and the taste buds of a goat. But we're smarter than that, non? A tad more sophistimecated? Not to mention, our guts can't take that kind of abuse anymore. Still, I believe, on St. Patrick's day, we're all at least a little bit Irish. So let's celebrate by calling family and friends around the table to share a pot of Guinness-braised lamb shanks, buttery champ, Irish soda bread, mussels steamed in cider, and a few fantastic organic ales, micro-brews, and an Irish staple, Guinness. Even better, break out yer fiddle, or at the very least, pop some Celtic tunes into the CD player and get yer kitchen ceili on!

Slainte! That would be cheers to the uninitiated. And just so you'll be ready when you raise your pint o'Guinness, here are a few delightful Irish toasts.

"May your fire be as warm as the weather is cold."

"Here's to your coffin; may it be built of 100-hundred-year-old oaks, that I will plant tomorrow!"

"May God bring good health to your enemies enemies!"

And one of my all time favourites; "May you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're dead!"

Recipes

Guinness Braised Lamb Shanks

This one pot meal is about as heart-warming as a litter of puppies swarming a toddler in a field of wildflowers!!! You can serve it as it is, or omit the potatoes and serve it over a dollop of mash or champ.

Ingredients:

6 lamb shanks
Flour, for dredging
Sea salt and pepper to taste
1/3 cup olive oil, does not have to be extra virgin
12 small white onions (cipolini are good), peeled
3 large carrots, sliced into coins
3 stalks celery, sliced
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 tsp of fresh rosemary
1 tsp of fresh thyme
1 cup Guinness
3/4 cup beef stock
12 small potatoes, well scrubbed, not peeled

Method:

In a large bowl, combine the flour, salt, and pepper and dredge the shanks. Add the oil to a large covered, heavy-bottom pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Shake off any excess flour, and add the lamb shanks, cook on all sides until browned, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a plate, and set aside. Add the onions, carrots, celery, garlic, rosemary, and thyme to the pot and cook for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the lamb and any juices back to the pot. Add the Guinness, and beef stock, cover, and simmer for 45 minutes. Add the potatoes, taste for seasonings and correct if necessary, recover, and cook until the meat is tender, about 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 hours.

Yield: Serves 6

Champ

Think, mashed potatoes extreme. Scalded cream and green onions elevate the humble potato to great heights.

Ingredients:

6 large Yukon gold potatoes; plan on 1 large or 2 small potatoes per person
1 cup 18% cream, milk can be used in stead of high-fat cream--if you insist.
1 bunch green onions, green and white parts, finely chopped
Sea salt and pepper to taste
4 Tbsp butter, or more to taste, but that's between you and your cardiologist.

Method:

Scrub and quarter the potatoes, add them to a large pot of water, and bring to a boil. Test the potatoes for done-ness by inserting a knife or poking with a fork. It should be soft. Drain in colander. In the same pot, over low heat, add the butter, salt, pepper, and green onions. Cook, stirring constantly, until the green onions begin to soften, then add the cream to heat through. Gently add the drained potatoes back to the pot, and mash.


P.E.I. Mussels steamed in Harp Cider

Ingredients:

About 2 kilos live mussels, washed in cold water and de-bearded
2 leeks, sliced into rings, washed in cold water
1 apple, diced
2 Tbsp butter
¼ cup chopped Irish bacon
Sea salt and pepper to taste
1 can or bottle Harp or other Irish hard apple cider
1 Tbsp fresh whole tarragon leaves

Method:

In a large pot with lid over medium heat, add butter, bacon, and leeks, and cook, constantly stirring until bacon begins to brown and leeks have softened. Add the apple, salt, pepper, and tarragon, and stir. Now, toss in the mussels, turn the heat up to high, and pour in the cider. Cover tightly, and give the pot a wee shake. Shake the pot a couple more times with the lid on. Check to see if the mussels have opened. As soon as they open wide, they are done. DO NOT overcook or they will be tough and start to shrivel. Serve immediately with soda bread and butter for sopping up all the broth!

Margaret Wagner's Irish Soda Bread

Margaret is a home baker, with a special love for soda bread. She's happily shared her recipe with us. Keep an eye out for her breads in markets in the near future....let's hope she has the luck o' the Irish! Here's her contact info if you want to try some for yourself: callansodabread@gmail.com.

2 cups all purpose unbleached flour
2 cups cake and pastry flour
1 ½ teaspoons salt
1 ½ teaspoons baking soda
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons room temperature butter
1 ¾ cups buttermilk or soured milk

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F

Grease a baking sheet (I use a spray-on like Pam)
Pour all of the dry ingredients into a bowl and mix by hand to blend
Work butter in by hand
Pour in buttermilk and mix with a fork just until a ball can be formed
Shape into a round loaf
Cut a cross into the top of the loaf with a knife
Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 40 minutes
Cool for 30 minutes before slicing

Baily's Bread and Butter Pudding



Ingredients:

I small Barmbrack loaf (raisin bread, even pre-sliced will do just fine)
2 oz butter (this is approximate)
4 large eggs
4 oz sugar
1 pint whole milk
1 shot of Baily's (about 2 oz)
pinch of nutmeg

Method:

Slice the loaf and butter liberally. Cut into triangles and layer into a buttered ovenproof dish until filled. Mix the eggs, sugar and milk together. Add the Bailey's and pour over the bread. Grate fresh nutmeg over the top. Bake in a medium oven (350), or until custard is set.

What is barmbrack loaf anyway? Read this to find out.

And as for the morning after the night before? The Full Irish. Is it just me, or does that sound kind of dirty? Anyway, all that fat, protein, and starch is like a warm blanket for your tired old liver!


Photo courtesy of Ceili Cottage.

Tune in to CTV Kitchener to see Yours Truly chatting with host Nancy Richards about St. Paddy's. Oh, and there will be prizes to give away courtesy of Tourism Ireland!!!



And to download free recipes and information about Ireland visit: Discover Ireland.

Beers graciously provided by The Beer Store. The Beer Store carries over 350 brands from over 80 brewers from around the world!

Try pairing beer with a few of these fantastic cheese from Ireland and the UK.

Cahilis with wiskey, Ireland
Reserve cheddar from Kerrygold, Irland
Dubliner, Ireland
Cashel Blue, Ireland
Aged cheddar with Guinness, Ireland
Green Sage Derby with sage leaves, England

It's peak lobster season in P.E.I. From now until June, the little island that could will be fishing and shipping sweet, tender, live beauties all across the country. Once considered peasant food because of its abundance, the lobster has become a delicacy, most often associated with celebrations, special occasions, and romantic dinners for two. And, I'll bet many of us landlubbers have only had lobster when we've been out to dinner. It can be intimidating business, killing a living thing with beady black eyes and wiggling legs...lots of 'em. But try and console yourself with this: lobsters are more closely related to insects than animals, and they don't possess well-developed nervous systems. But still, the debate rages on around the ethics of boiling live lobsters. Some suggest popping them into the freezer for about an hour prior to cooking. This almost shuts everything down completely. Others plunge the tip of a knife through the head, into the "brain", such that it is. The Asian way is to simply and swiftly chop the live lobster in half. This is the way to go if you're going to grill or wok cook it in seasonings and sauces. But for this blog, we're talking boiled lobster dipped in butter.

I enjoy a lobster every now and then. I prefer a freshly boiled Dungeness crab, but I won't say no to a bit of sweet and tender, claw and tail. It's fun and messy to dig, poke, suck every last bit of meat you can find from the wee beastie. I think the most delicious lobster dish I've ever had was at Senses in the SoHo Metropolitan, in Toronto, where tender chunks of the stuff was butter-poached and tossed with truffled spaghetti. Chef Lin has been generous enough to share his recipe. Now it's a long one, and perhaps even a bit complex for many home cooks. That's why I like to leave some things to the professionals. However, if you're feeling particularly Julie and Julia-ish, then I say, go for it, and let me know how it works out for you! But first, our Lobster 101.



I visited Bronwen Clark, manager of Rodney's Oyster House in Toronto, and here's what she had to say about everything from lobster rights to lobster recipes. "We kill our lobsters by boiling them, but if I believed they suffered and it (death) wasn't instant, I'd change the method we use." The key is to have as huge a pot as you can manage in a high, high, rolling boil. And always, plunge the critter in head first.



I watched, and there was no drama. No thrashing, not even it twitch. It was dead in seconds. It's very rudimentary brain shut down instantaneously. Whew. Oh, have I mentioned that this is the first lobster masakree I've taken part in? Well it's true. I'm a coward. But, today I feel like it just might be OK. And that scene in Julie and Julia, where the lid comes flying off the lobster pot; Hollywood, pure Hollywood.



On the left is the serrated claw and on the right, the larger one for crushing. Both are delish! But dangerous once the elastics are off.



A sure sign of a healthy lobster is a strong, flicking tail. Another thing to look for when purchasing lobster; pull back the elastic band, and if there are deep marks, it's been out of the ocean too long. Also a dead giveaway are short or uneven antennae. When kept in tight quarters for too long, lobsters will begin to cannibalize each other, and the first thing they go for are the antennae. The shell of a fresh lobster will be good and hard, not soft or spongy.



Here, Bronwen, aka The Lobster Whisperer, as put this bad boy to sleep by stroking its back then standing it on its head. This will make the transition into the water even calmer. A lullaby is optional.



After 7 minutes in boiling water, or in this case, an aromatic bullion with herbs, spices, veggies and beer, this 1.5 pounder is done to perfection. Always take the rubber bands off the claws before cooking, 'cause, who likes the taste of rubber?

Tip: When the lobster comes out of the water, the tail must be tucked under, like this one is. If not, it indicates a sick lobster that you CAN NOT eat.


Our lobster is ready to be broken down and eaten, and there is a right way and a wrong way.

This would be the wrong way...



Here's the right way...



He's hot, so using a rag, grip the body with one hand, and with the other, grip the claws and pull down and away. Set aside.



Now, lay it out flat.



On the back, look for a handy little notch in the shell. This is where you will start your cutting. See, it's as if Mother Nature herself wanted us to eat lobster!



Push the tip of a good, heavy, chef's knife just under the notch.



Plunge all the way in, and with your free hand on the back of the knife, push down hard and quick, cutting all the way through the back and tail.




Tuck the now split tail under and work two fingers under the back shell.



Pull up, just enough to loosen. Don't rip it all the way off. Leave something for your guests to do!



Again, with that chef's knife, whack the tips off each claw. Make sure your other hand is safely away from the falling blade!



See the two claws here: the one on the left is cleaned up, with the 'shoulder' also trimmed, and the lower mandible of the claw pulled down and twisted.



Now, make little slices in the knuckles of the claws (arms).






The shell of the claw is thicker than that of the arm, so use the back or heel of your knife and give it a good whack, but be careful not to go all the way through, like I did on my first try!




This will make it easy to pull the shell apart without damaging the pretty pink claw meat.



Here's a tip: if the meat from this part of the claw is just ever so soft and jiggly, and in perfect condition, then you know the lobster is cooked perfectly. Cook it too long, and it will stick to the inside of the shell, tearing the meat.



Use picks to dig out every last scrap of meat.



Trade secret: don't forget to turn the beast over. Under here, where the claws were attached is some very sweet meat, that can go over looked.



Here, in the head area, is the liver, or tomalley. It's an acquired taste to be sure, fatty and fishy, like foie of the sea. I like it as a condiment to add flavour to the more bland tail meat.



Some folks like to spread it on toast.



Now, the pros would give you a funny look for using one of these. Bronwen feels that hammers tend to cause the shell to smash, leaving you picking shards of shell out of the meat. I'll leave that up to you, because this shellfish hammer is over-the-top gorgeous. Get it from Bergo Designs.




Of course you'll also need shell crackers, picks, and butter warmers. Check out The Cooks Place, as they carry a good selection and ship across Canada. They also carry a great selection of knives if you want to go the pro route!

And the right pot. Check this out. Now this is a steamer pot, not a boiling pot, so you will have to let your conscience be your guide. But I do love the spigot for easy draining. Get it and other lobster accoutrement from Crate and Barrel.





Now if this is all too much, and you just want to indulge, and I mean truly over-the-top indulge and you're either a fantastic cook, or are in the Toronto area, read on.....

Recipe courtesy Chef Patrick Lin. Photo credit: Metropolitan Hotels.

Senses Lobster Spaghettini

Yield: 4 Portions

Court Bullion

Ingredients:

Vegetable oil - 30 ml
Onions - 100g - Rough Chop
Celery - 100g - Rough Chop
Leeks - 100g - Rough Chop
Garlic - 1 clove - Smashed
Lemon -1 piece - Cut in half
Bay Leaf - 1 piece
White Wine - 60 ml
Water - 4 L
Lobster 1 ½ lbs - 2 pieces
Kosher Salt

Method:

In a large stockpot over medium heat sweat: celery, onions, leeks, 1 clove of garlic.
De-glaze pot with white wine and juice from lemon.

Add in water, bay leaf and remainder of lemon and season heavily with salt. The water should taste acidic and salty. Bring liquid to a rolling boil.

Place lobsters into stock pot and cook for 2 minutes, pull out lobster and refresh in ice bath, pull off claws and place back into stock pot for another 4 minutes, pull out claws and refresh in ice bath.

Carefully remove meat from claws and tail, insuring to keep all the leftover shells and body. Reserve lobster meat for final dish.

Lobster Cream

Ingredients:

Carrots - 50g - Rough Chop
Celery - 50g - Rough Chop
Onions - 50g - Rough Chop
Celery - 50g - Rough Chop
Garlic - 1 Clove - Smashed
Coriander Seeds - 10g
Fresh Tarragon - 10g
Bay Leaf - 1 piece
Brandy - 60 ml
Water - 2 L
35% Cream - 300 ml
Kosher Salt

Method:

Break lobster bones into smaller bits using a meat hammer or heavy bottomed pan.
Cook lobster bones in a large heavy bottomed pan over med-low heat.

Add in carrots, onions, celery, leek, garlic, tarragon, coriander seeds and bay leaf. De-glaze pan with brandy. Carefully as brandy will ignite. When flames subside add in the water. Bring liquid to a boil, then down to a simmer and reduce by half. Add in 35% Cream and reduce by half.
Season with Kosher Salt to taste, and keep warm.

Truffle Foam

Ingredients:

Skim Milk - 1 L
Button Mushrooms - 150g - Sliced
Butter - 20g
Port - 50 ml
Garlic - ½ clove - Smashed
Truffle Oil - 20 ml

Method:

In a medium sized pot over medium heat. Melt butter and add mushrooms, garlic and sweat until no more liquid appears. De-glaze the pan with port and add in milk. Simmer for about 30 min add in truffle oil and then puree with a hand wand or in a blender or food processor.
Pass through a fine sieve and keep warm.

Lobster Spaghettinni: here's where it all comes together!

Ingredients:

Lobster Cream - 1 L
Truffle Foam - 1 L
Lobster Meat - From above recipe - Diced
Truffle Spaghettini - 200g -- you can buy this at most specialty grocers
Tuffle Oil - 10ml
Chervil - 4-5 Sprigs
Fresh Truffles - 10g
Water - 2L
Kosher Salt
Fresh Ground Pepper

Method:
In a medium sized stock pot bring 2 L of water (Heavily seasoned with salt - the water should taste like sea water) to a boil, throw in truffled pasta and cook according to package. Drain and toss with olive oil and reserve.

In a medium sized sautée pan bring 600 ml of lobster cream to low simmer over medium heat. Place in diced lobster meat and toss thoroughly. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
In another medium sized sautée pan bring the remaining 400 ml of lobster cream to a low simmer over medium heat. Place in truffled pasta and toss thoroughly. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Divide pasta into 4 equal portions into serving dish. Divide lobster meat and lobster cream over pasta. Using hand blender froth lobster cream and place gently over pasta. Garnish with freshly shaved truffles, truffle oil and chervil and serve.



 

My older sister, Carole, my mother, and I, with the hens and ducks basking in the early spring sun.

Spring in Hudson, Quebec went like this: in March, the sun was warm enough for Mother to set up a lawn chair next to a protected side of the house. She'd sit there in her coat, eyes closed, her face tilted skyward when the sun was at its warmest. The snow receded from this spot first. The hens and ducks would move in for some warmth and a long-awaited dirt bath in the steamy, black soil, while mother got a head start on her tan. By April patches of white turned to muddy green, the tiny bluebells would emerge, quick running, crystal clear water would carve streams out of the ice, and the icicles would begin their endless drip, drip, drip, that only stopped at night. And all the while, the sugar maples that edged the house on Oakland Avenue, were also drip, drip, dripping--sap into buckets. It was cold and sweet and it was impossible not to dip a finger in or even tip a bucket up to your lips and take a proper sip. This was father's project. Mother hated how the steam from the boiling sap made all the kitchen walls sticky. I loved the magic of it. I loved the transformation of sap into syrup.


1968 or 9. Doug, my then brother in law, uses a hand drill or auger, to make a hole in the first in a long line of sugar maples that ran between our house and the street. The annual tapping was an event.

And I loved that this made late winter a wondrous time. There were sugaring off parties, complete with eggs, pancakes, sausages, bacon, all drenched in freshly boiled, warm syrup, and field trips to sugar shacks. Once the syrup was ready to bottle--and I don't remember how he knew, he just did--Father would set some aside to continue to boil down into taffy. Then, we'd find a patch of pristine snow, easy to do in the country, and drizzle the thick, dark amber liquid over it in a wiggly line. The heat would melt the supporting snow, just a bit, just enough to create a little excitement. Then, when it was cool, I'd take a fork, and roll up the maple taffy. Heaven. When I think about this, or fishing, gardening, eating the mushrooms and fiddleheads my father foraged for, gathering eggs from our hens, I realize how blessed I was; how connected I've always been to the food I eat. And then I think about kids today, many of whom have no idea where food comes from, beyond the drive-through window or freezer, and that's an absolute shame.


My sister, Carole, and I heading into the sugar bush for some sweet fun.


Apples and pears picked from the trees on the grounds of Spadina House.
Photo: Laura Reinsborough, urban mover and tree-shaker.

Not Far From the Tree is a band of dedicated folk who aim to bridge that gap for urban kids and even adults. The city is full of fruit-bearing trees and shrubs and these resourceful foodies fan out, find them, and harvest the bounty. Why should the squirrels have all the fun? This year, they've got their sites set on a maple tree near you--if you live in Toronto, that is. It's still in the works, and there are details and logistics to iron out, but it's a fantastic idea...dare I say, a sweet idea? Beg pardon. But it got me all misty-eyed and ready to head out to my nearest country hardware store to stock up on everything I need to tap a maple. Problem is, my yard is devoid of maples. Sugar maples just can't survive the city smog and salt. But wait, there's hope. Turns out sugar maples aren't the only tree worth tapping. The Norway maple can work too, it just gives less sap. And of course, there's birch syrup, which is more like molasses than maple syrup.


To learn more about Not Far From the Tree, visit: http://www.notfarfromthetree.org/

Damn, you know you have it soft, I mean, as a society, when you find yourself attending a very well catered lunch to unveil a new dog food. A few blogs ago I told you my sad tale of a bruised ego and one Yorkville pooch, and how karma has brought me full circle. If you didn't read it--shame on you--go read it, then come back here. Those of you who are keeping up, well done, and carry on. So, as I was saying, today the karmic payback was almost rendered complete, and spiritually, I feel cleansed, lighter. Today I ate dog food.

Kidding! Kidding! Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. But really, I ate many of the ingredients that are also found in Natural Defense, the new dog food I've been feeding to my Little Dude as part of the company's consumer trials. And it was delicious! That's most likely down to the catering company--Danielle et Danielle--who plied a hungry pack of us practitioners of journalism-lite with tenderloin, Fifth Town artisanal cheese, and green tea crème brulee. But, as they say, there is no free lunch. There were speeches about hip joints and old dogs. The poo-poo and pro-biotics lecture started just as our knives began gliding through the butter-tender beef. OK, that's quite enough of that, thank you very much. There was a before and after video, evidence of the efficacy of these new nutraceutical-infused Scooby snacks, and it was pretty convincing.

My best little friend loves the stuff, but then, he's not terribly discerning. He also enjoys compost-snacks, bird poo would appear to be a delicacy, and he and I did battle over a wee dead mouse in the yard this fall. Still, I guess the proof will be seen..or not..years from now. He's only 6, but as a chihuahua, he could live to be 20 if all goes well. It'll be in the next several years that all the human-grade goodies--omega oils, marigold extract, vitamins E and C, glucosamine, barley, beets, green tea, zinc, and myrtle--will work their magic.


And we're off! Fifth Town cheese, roasted beets, mint, arugula, orange, and pretty, edible flower petals.


Beef tenderloin, a shameless pat of chimichurri compound butter, whole grain and wild mushroom risotto, and baby carrots, lovingly tied up with spring onion.


Green tea creme brulee with a chocolate dipped physalis. (I've always wondered what these things were!) It's also known as a Cape Gooseberry.


The Sultan of Soup, Ken Kostick, with Josephine, his 4 year old chihuahua. Madame arrived in a Louis Vuitton dog carrier. Duh!

The current foodie mantra is to eat for the season, but we live in a land that's gray and snowbound for half the year, so we can take that idea only so far. In the deepest, darkest throws of a Canadian winter, eating for the season might mean eating to escape the season. Yikes, that means spending a fortune on world-traveled greens and veggies. I'm a proud cheerleader for local, but I have a very hard time walking past an avocado, or bottle of olive oil, and I'd miss terribly a spritz of lime over my Thai noodles. These foods just feel good to the body. We're craving sunshine and these foods feel like sunshine you can eat. We're also craving vitamin D, whether we're aware of it or not. Vitamin D is essential to the absorption of calcium, and has recently been linked to the prevention of certain cancers and auto-immune disorders, such as Crohn's and MS. I heard someone say that we don't find MS at the equator. They're still trying to work out if it's due to lifestyle, diet, or sunshine...perhaps all.


Here I am circa 1965/6 working on my tan in Florida...while, it seems, toddling around a construction site in bare feet!

Now, I don't claim to understand all the intricate details of this, but what I do know is that vitamin D is created when our skin comes into contact with sunlight, and according to Health Canada, the days from October through March, are too short to provide us with enough vitamin D. We're all bundled up too, so we really don't present much skin surface to the sun. And now, the latest research is suggesting we need to top up or vitamin D intake, even in summer. We're slathering ourselves in sun block, keeping our kids in shirts at the beach, and the wide-brimmed hat has made a great comeback. Now when I was a kid, my father was of the mind that "fresh air and sunshine" could cure just about anything. I spent my childhood summers getting, as my father called it, "brown as a berry". As a kid and teen in the 70s and 80s I was a real sun worshiper. Winter holidays in Florida, self-basting in coconut and baby oil, and back home in Hudson, Quebec, well, just try and stay inside on a sunny day. "Go outside and play! You'll grow mushrooms sitting in here!" So, we got our daily dose of vitamin sunshine; babies toddled around in diapers and nothing else, kids and adults in as little as they could get away with. In the summer everyone sported a tan or a burn. Girls peeled each others backs on the beach after a particularly bad roasting. Then, in the 90s, with the hole in the ozone layer letting in deadly UV rays, medical folk started warning us to not go in the sun, for fear of developing melanoma. So, in terror, many of us covered up and ran inside. The sun was now the enemy. I remember hearing a dermatologist on the radio who admitted to not even leaving the safety of his home to get something from the car in the driveway, without applying sunblock to his lips! Yikes!

But guess what? Now the medical community is taking a wee step back. Seems we need to have some sun exposure. Seems without it, other cancer rates go up. Geez, guys, would you make up your minds, already? You know what, are you all thinking what I'm thinking? All things in moderation. Balance. The sun is good. It feeds us. It's our energy. Without it there would be nothing. NOTHING. So now, some in the medical community are prescribing a good 15 minutes a day of high-noon, un-blocked, sun exposure. I can do that! I still love the sun, and I'm still guilty of sitting, laying down, and snoozing under it's warm, caressing, rays. It lifts my spirits and makes my body feel good, but, I do have to admit to a bit of fear while I'm basking. But we still need to pop a pill or two to make sure we're getting enough. Something else to take into consideration; pale skinned folk absorb more sun so the latest science--from the University of California, Davis, reported in The Journal of Nutrition--recommends intakes for people with darker skin to be 2100 to 3100 International Units per day all year-round. This is a massive jump from the currently recommended 200IU's per day. Personally, I take 2000 IU per day between October and March, and 1000 IU per day, come summer.

I'm all for eating enough of the right foods to get sufficient vitamins and minerals, but other than sunshine, where else does vitamin D come from? Chinook salmon is the best natural source, but it's also found in shrimp, and cod. It's in a few other foods we eat a fair bit of--milk, eggs, butter--but most often it's been added there, and in such small amounts it hardly even registers. You'd have to eat pounds of butter, dozens of eggs, and down gallons of milk to reach these newly advised levels, so, this is one case where supplements really do play an indispensable role. Methinks Mother Nature intended us all to run around in the sun in our birthday suits and not migrate north of the equator! And thankfully, it's one of the least expensive vitamin supplements on the shelf, and when it goes on sale, which it often does, I stock up. And when summer comes, I  let the sunshine in.

Harvest time at Cobram Estate in Australia.

Is there anyone out there who still does not use olive oil almost exclusively? How about anyone who's still not convinced of its health benefits? I wouldn't think so, but you never know, so I thought I should ask.

Being of Scottish and English descent, I grew up in a household where butter, bacon fat, and corn oil ruled. At some point or other, Mother got it into her head that margarine was better for us, so that horrible, bright orange stuff made an appearance, but Father and I avoided it like the plague. Once a butter junkie, always a butter junkie. But sadly, in our kitchen, olive oil was unheard of, garlic came granulated in a tiny bottle often mixed with salt, red wine appeared only on special occasions, and fish was most often hauled in by The Captain...Highliner, that is...formed into sticks, breaded, and reheated on a cookie sheet. As far as I knew, olives were green, stuffed with a bit of red stuff--discovered it was pimento in my teens--salty, tasting of not much more than the brine, and meant for martinis and for when company came. But I did love them, and I'd sneak them as often as I could get away with. It wasn't until I had my own kitchen, at 16, that olive oil came into my life. And even then, I had a fair bit of work to do to shake off the restrictions of my upbringing and to broaden my culinary horizons. I too fell prey to the margarine scam--believe it or not--I thought it would help with my weight problem, but fat is fat, and it contains the same calories. Well, I know that now, but then.... At the time, there was a brand called Olivina. It was margarine with some olive oil mixed in; probably just a drop. Anyway, at the time, I thought it was pretty good. And I even have to confess to buying "lite" olive oil in those bad old days. Oh the shame! Well, now I know better, so now I do better, right? Right. Now my olives come in black as well as green, and are not just for a dirty martini or company. My oil is never "lite", but rather bearing labels that proclaim a variety, a region, an estate or grove. In fact, olives and their various products make up a pretty substantial part of my diet, skin care and health regimens. You'll even find olive wood utensils, boards, and bowls in my kitchen. I expect it's all part of the wonderful--and it's about time--return to nose to tail and root to shoot eating.

Here's a run down of all my latest olive-related finds, loves, and obsessions. 


These small, crunchy, French olives are my new obsession. Can't stop eating them. They are meaty and mellow with a fantastic texture.www.epicureal.com

When we think olives, I'll bet Italy's the first place to come to mind, am I wrong? But olives are important to all Mediterranean countries and cuisines, and have been for millennia, from France all the way to North Africa.


And these, also French, are my second fave new olive. I love their dry, wrinkly texture and strong, ripe, fruity flavour.

L'estornell is a brand of olive oil from Spain. I love that they named the oil after the birds--starlings, in English--who come to "help" with the olive harvest.

And what about olive oil? Here too we might automatically think of Italy, Spain, even France. But wait, not so fast. In the same way New World wines--Australia, New Zealand, South and North America--are giving the Old World producers cause for concern, so too are the New World olive growers. California, Australia, and Chile are coming on strong with some fantastic olive oils. And where Old World oils tend to be blends and more mellow, these brash upstarts are green, fresh, bright, and peppery. New World growers put the emphasis on single estates and varieties, and, just as they put the name of the grape on a wine bottle and included tasting notes making wine-buying more friendly and approachable, they do the same with oils. Smart. And remember, olive oil isn't just for savoury foods. Many traditional Mediterranean sweets call for olive oil in stead of butter, and the Turkish and Greeks enjoy a sweet jam made from black or Kalamata olives and sugar. Cutting-edge chefs are blurring the lines between sweet and savoury by concocting wildly imaginative desserts with olives.


This oil is too good to cook with. Just use it for finishing, dipping, and dressing greens. It's special flavour is too good to mask, besides, heat isn't good for the nutritional content of olive oil.

This delicious and affordable organic oil is from, of all places, Shoppers Drug Mart. I use it as my everyday oil.

I've always been a fan and user of cooking spray. Oops, there now, the cat is out of the bag. (Why was the cat in the bag in the first place, and where were they taking it? I shall have to investigate the origins of that expression and report back to you.) Anyhoo....I use the stuff and I'm sure all my hard-core foodie friends are tisk-tisking me right now. Yes, I know it contains some unnatural ingredients, or at least it used to, but now they're making them cleaner, simpler, and more pure. Anyway, it's not like I'm eating spoonfuls of the stuff. I use it sparingly, on fry pans, baking pans, and on the grill. It's also very handy when baking with honey or molasses. Give your measuring cup a spray before pouring in the sticky stuff, and watch it just slide out--all of it--no scraping required.

Here's one made from olive oil, from Kangaroo Paw, that I especially like for the purity of its ingredients. And do take a look at their website, the estate, the grove, the region, are all fantastic. But, if you absolutely hate, can't abide the thought of propellants, you could always buy a mister bottle and fill it with olive oil. You can use this when you're baking to give a lovely sheen, or just as you would use a non-stick spray. I do however, draw the line at that salad dressing in the spray bottles. For God's sake, it's lettuce, have some freakin' olive oil on it, it's good for you!


From Kangaroo Paw out of Australia, this high-end oil is so worth the money. It's a bit pricey, but if you're lucky enough to find a shop carrying the stuff, go ahead and splurge. The cooking spray is on the left.

Now, strictly speaking this isn't pure olive oil. In my mind it's almost better. Developed in the President's Choice kitchen, this is a perfectly balanced blend of olive, flax, and grape seed oil, with healthy proportions of omega-3s and 6s. All wonderful for you, all delicious, and all together, a mild, nutty, omega-rich oil for salads and to drizzle over cooked veggies, or for dipping bread. One of my fave ways to enjoy it is on a baked potato, sprinkled with sea salt, garlic powder--when I'm in a rush. Virtuous and completely satisfying.

This fantastic oil was blended by sensory expert Anna Gilmour. She traveled to Italy, Spain, and California to learn about oil production.



Cobram Estates' beautiful and seemingly endless olive groves in Victoria, Australia.

For a long time now, we've understood that olive oil is a good fat. Praise the lord, it's the kind of fat we NEED! And the wonders of olives keep on coming. Some folks also believe that the leaves of the olive tree are good for us too; that they are antioxidants and help support the immune system. Shoppers Drug Mart Life Brand sells a ground olive leaf capsule. I've been taking it for a couple of months now, and while I still don't think I could run a marathon or even around the block, if I'm to be honest, I did manage to avoid the flu this fall, and I've never gotten the flu shot. Not even with all this H1N1 panic nonsense. Damn! I've done it now. Watch me get sick! Anyway, here's some interesting reading on the history and medicinal properties of the olive leaf. As with most information on herbal remedies, you can take it or leave it. But if you do take it, a pinch of salt might be a good accompaniment.

 
I bet you've seen salad bowls, salt cellars, and wooden spoons made from a beautiful, swirly-grained wood and wondered what kind it was. Olive wood is turning up more and more in kitchen shops. I love the look, and smooth feeling. I also love that it just feels like the kind of wood you want next to food. And it feel ancient. I can imagine that olive wood has been used as food vessels for thousands of years.


This is a beautiful salt keeper by Berard of France, from Browne & Co. Check out your local kitchen shop for everything from spoons to salad bowls to mortar and pestles.


It's believed that olives are an acquired taste, and that if you want to learn to like them, all you have to do is eat seven, and by the eighth, you'll be an olive lover. I didn't have to try. But if you have yet to acquire a taste for the wonderful fruit of the olive tree, then buy yourself a jar and count to seven.

And here you go. This is from www.phrases.org.uk

Let the cat out of the bag

There are two commonly heard suggested origins of this phrase. One relates to the fraud of substituting a cat for a piglet at markets. If you let the cat out of the bag you disclosed the trick - and avoided buying a pig in a poke (bag). This form of trickery is long alluded to in the language and 'pigs in a poke' are recorded as early as 1530.

The other theory is that the 'cat' referred to is the cat o' nine tails, which was used to flog ill-disciplined sailors. Again, this has sufficient historical record to be at least possible. The cat o' nine tails was widely used and was referred to in print many years prior to the first use of 'let the cat out of the bag'. The 'nine tails' part of the name derives from the three strands of cord that the rope lashes were made from. Each of the cords were in turn made from three strands of string. When unbraided a piece of rope separated into nine strings. The 'cat' part no doubt alluded to the scratches that the knotted ends of the lash made on the victim's back, like those from a cat's claws.

Of the two explanations, the 'pig in a poke' derivation is the more plausible, although I can find no direct documentary evidence to link 'letting the cat out of the bag' to the selling of livestock. Versions of the phrase exist in both Dutch - 'Een kat in de zak kopen' and in German - 'Die Katze im Sack kaufen'. These both translate loosely as 'to buy a cat in a bag', i.e. to buy false goods.

The cat o' nine tails story is dubious at best. It is reported that the lashes were sometimes stored in bags, but the suggested nautical punishment origin fails at the critical point, in that it doesn't match the 'disclose a secret' meaning of the phrase.

The first known use of the phrase in print that I have found is in a 1760 edition of The London Magazine:

"We could have wished that the author... had not let the cat out of the bag."

There are several other literary references to the phrase in the 1760s and 1770s, most of which place it in quotations marks - a sure sign of it being not commonly understood and consequently, newly coined.

Cats feature very often in English proverbs:

A cat may look at a king - 1546
All cats are gray in the dark - 1596
Curiosity killed the cat - 1921
There are more ways of killing a cat than choking it with cream - 1855
When the cat is away, the mice will play - 1607

This routine appearance of cats in the language is no doubt a consequence of them being widely kept as mousers and pets in domestic houses. As to 'who let the cats out?', we can't be certain; but it probably wasn't a sailor.

He was in town for all of 18 hours, just long enough to whip up dinner for 100 at the University of Toronto's beautiful, neo-gothic Hart House. Food Network's Chef Michael Smith, along with an eager gaggle of high school kids from Stratford and Niagara, Ontario, and their mentor, Chef Paul Finkelstein, demonstrated just what's possible when kids are exposed to good, real, food, and offered a little guidance. Their enthusiasm was shamelessly palpable. Geez, don't kids worry about being cool any more? Unless...unless...food is the new cool?



The school, Northwestern Secondary School, is home to a groundbreaking experiment pitting the school's junky deep-fried, pre-packaged everything cafeteria against Fink's and his young cooks Screaming Avocado Café. In Chef Smith, Fink and his kids could find no greater cheerleader; "In Stratford, there's high schoolers cooking braised rabbit with figs and olives for lunch and selling it to eighth graders, folks. And selling out every day!" The room goes crazy. It's the battle cry of slow- and real-foodist; get to the kids, teach them to cook, to eat real food, to stop killing themselves by eating garbage. Then the super-tall chef--he's 6'7" and just as gentle and sweet as they come--launched an attack on trigonometry. Here, here!!! I hated math. Still do. "Are we not suppose to be getting our kids ready for life? What are they going to do when they grow up, open a trigonometry shop?" Right on brother! But let's not go crazy, kids need some math and science of course, but where did home ec go? I can remember baking my first apple pie in home ec. And writing my first food story. It was about the cuisine of China, which in those days, and according to the Foreign Fare chapter of my mother's Five Roses Cookbook and massive Time Life Illustrated cookbook, consisted of creamy braised onions, sautéed asparagus, egg foo yoong, and almond cookies. And MSG, lots of MSG in every recipe. I wrote my essay and cooked up a feast. I remember being so very proud of what I had done, and then so horribly dashed by the poor mark the teacher gave me. Oh well, she's most likely pushing up the daisies by now, and I'm a chef and food writer, so there! (Oh, I am so going straight to hell.) The point is, food is life, cooking is love and a vital life skill. If we don't teach kids to feed themselves--and we're not talking pressing the defrost button on the microwave--well, let's just say there is going to be more obesity, more diabetes and other obesity-related illnesses, and more dependence. What happened to independence and self-reliance? It does make me crazy. I learned to cook as soon as I was able to reach the stove. It's empowering.


Black cod with marinated cabbage and sprout salad with caraway vinaigrette. Fantastic!

He then assured us that cooking is really a very simple thing. Which caused me to chuckle inwardly; I mean, does anyone remember The Inn Chef? Yikes! Back in the bad old days, the now very well put together chef wore terrible checkered pantaloons--was there a cod piece in there? I mean, really!!! Was I the only one who noticed?--and had his long hair all slicked back, a la small time dope dealer. And his food verged on, well, from over-the-top to tacky, with 10,000 elements on every plate: fruit leather, 3 sauces, tall things sticking out the top, you name it. So I was thinking all that in my head, when the dude said, "And I should know, I've been there myself." Ah, beautiful! The man does not take himself too seriously to have a wee chuckle about where he's been in his career, because what matters is where he is now. And speaking of now, after the dinner of charcuterie, black cod, pork and quince, and rosemary scented panna cotta was served, and devoured, I should add, he was off to BC. Leaving his team of Fink's kids in Ontario, he's off to head up another team of cooks. These ones filling the bellies and fueling the muscles of the Canadian Olympic team. Go team go!


The smoked brisket--part of the charcuterie plate--was so tender, and the smokiness not overpowering. Beautiful.

So, what did he say about food and cooking being simple? He said, "There are three simple steps to creating good food. One. Use ingredients that are respectful of nature, and be respectful of the people who grow and raise them. Two. Treat those ingredients as simply as we possibly can. And three. Share the results. Cooking is; impeccable ingredients treated as simply as possible and shared with others." Hallelujah!


Chef Smith passing the torch of cooking and eating with passion and integrity to the next generation.

But you see, here's the problem. And it's always the same problem at any of the food events I attend, where everyone wants to change the world, save the kids, the land, the farmers. We're always preaching to the choir. And this night was no different. I only hope there were a few school board types in the room, but I doubt it. They were probably grabbing a burger and fries at the drive-through.

And on a side note, at the last minute, it was decided to donate half of the ticket sales from the event to Haitian relief.

Look for this label on bottles of Ontario fruit and maple wines come 2012. It takes time, dedication, and lots of love, to get a winery off the ground.

Back in high school, he was one of those friends who existed on the periphery of my close circle. I hung out with the arty-band kids, and Louis Gaal was part of, well, I'm not sure. He was that kind of kid who just flitted from clique to clique--neutral--the Switzerland of teenagers. The kind of kid you'd call affable, easy-going, completely unpretentious, a goofy smile perpetually plastered onto his face. But that's all I can tell you about him from my Mac High days. Then, through the magic of facebook, there he was again. He found me, and from the look of his friends list, it seems he's found just about all of us, in true Louis fashion, crossing all lines of coolness and nerdiness or affiliation, art/music or science/math.

I pulled out my old year book, from 1980, and there's Louis aka Gooie Wee Gee. Ambition? Street cleaner. Probable Destination? Premier of Quebec. OK, so he's neither a street cleaner nor leader of La Belle Province, but rather, a business analyst cum wine maker.


Oh dear, some things never change. Same goofy smile. But really Louis, you ought to lay off the wine, you've got a few broken capillaries in your nose!

Fast forward 30 years--oh dear God, 30 years!--and there he is again, goofy smile and all. When first signing on to facebook, for us older folks the thrill is finding all these old high school chums and seeing what they've been up to and how the intervening decades have treated them. Who has more wrinkles? Who got fat? Who's still single or childless or worse still, who didn't make it? It's like an online, ongoing high school reunion. Louis found me, and he told me his story.

Louis first got a taste for fruit wines in 1999, while working as a business analyst for The City of New York. He toured the wineries of upstate New York and got the notion to start his own winery, but knew he couldn't do it there, so back to his homeland, Canada, he came. Louis and his wife Claire now work a 62-acre farm in Oxford Mills, Ontario, planted with fruit trees, raspberries, strawberries, black currants, rhubarb, and Asian pears. The winery is still very much a work in progress, with the original heritage barn still sitting in semi-ruins, waiting to be re-built, and Louis still waiting to get his wines off the ground.


The frame of the old barn will soon be filled in with straw bales and covered over with stucco for a very eco-friendly structure.


Sons Matthew, 13 on the tractor, and Andy, 16, help with marking out the fields.

Gooie Wee Gee sent me three bottles to try: maple syrup mead, raspberry, and cherry wine. Now, I'm no expert, not yet anyway, but I like the wines just fine. Fruit wines have a personality all their own and should not be held up to grape wines for comparison. They're more casual, with fewer nuances, to this inexperienced nose, anyway. The maple mead was fairly sweet with good, chest-warming alcohol, with an aroma and taste reminiscent of sherry. It would be a fantastic option if ice wine was not in your budget. But, we'll all have to wait a couple more years, and who knows, by then, Louis' wine making skills may have improved radically and I'll have to take back my "fewer nuances" crack.


Blue Gypsy's pretty cherry wine, maple syrup mead, and raspberry wine.

www.bluegypsywines.com

Here's a press release from the Ontario Viniculture Association

Liberals say No to Win-Win Opportunity

Ontario's fruit wine producers face more challenges than other wineries. Aside from the task of competing with industry-standard grape wines, these wineries are virtually shut out of that market. Most fruit wineries are located in farm country, not wine country. There is no "fruit wine route" to draw visitors to the wineries. Fruit wineries may not join the Wine Council of Ontario, which only recognizes wineries that produce wine from grapes. Nor can fruit wines qualify for VQA status, a designation reserved for grape-based wines. Two major outlets for wine
in Ontario are the LCBO and restaurants, yet the LCBO has little interest in fruit wines, while regulations, fees, tariffs, and "levies" mean a sale of fruit wine to a restaurant makes little or no money for the winery.

In 2008, Conservative MPP Bob Runciman (Leeds-Grenville) introduced a private member's bill that would allow the sale of fruit wines at farmers markets. In December 2008 the bill received unanimous support from all parties at Second Reading. Then it languished for almost all of 2009, and as fruit wineries waited in vain for some encouraging news, two farm wineries went out of business. In December 2009 the bill finally appeared before The Standing Committee on Regulations and Private Bills, where Liberal representatives stoically voted down every
section of the bill - a bill they had originally unanimously supported - without a single word of explanation, and their report on the bill was quietly filed with neither disclosure nor review.
Bill 132 could have accomplished much for Ontario.

• Fruit wineries could at last become self-supporting, lessening the likelihood of bankruptcies and the need for bailouts or other supports (such as have been frequently doled out to grape wine producers)
• Consumers would have better and more convenient access to a unique Ontario product
• Government revenue from sales would increase from the increased market activity
• The LCBO would receive their various levies and mark-ups without having to make space for fruit wines in their stores
• Farm markets could see an increase in visitors due to the enhanced exposure, fostering tourism for those communities
• Sales of other beverage alcohol products at wineries and LCBO stores would be relatively unaffected, as fruit wine enthusiasts tend to bypass these products
• The environment would benefit from both an increase in "buy local" options and potentially less
pollution from transportation
• According to Farmers' Markets of Ontario, consumers are willing and eager to buy fruit wines at farmers markets
• The initiative would remedy some of the inequalities inherent in Ontario's current alcohol laws.
The Ontario Federation of Agriculture supports Bill 132. In OFA's deposition to the Standing Committee, representative Peter Lambrick stated, in part, "Agriculture represents the interests of over 38,000 farm families in Ontario. The OFA resoundingly supports the objects, language and intent of Bill 132, a bill that will provide producers of fruit wines the ability to expand marketing opportunities for their Ontario-grown and produced products. Simply put, Bill 132 just makes sense from a market development, rural economic development and tourism development sense. Other competing jurisdictions have recognized these opportunities while Ontario falls behind in not providing for such a market outlet. We know Ontario consumers are keenly interested in sourcing local products and are asking for improved and simpler access to Ontario-produced goods in stores and via the farmers' market option. Bill 132 addresses this demand."

And,

"The OFA can see no downside to Bill 132. It is entirely consistent with opportunities provided by competing jurisdictions and perfectly consistent with other regulations enabling the marketing, with tasting, of wine products."

Fruit Wines of Ontario, represented by Bert Andrews (Andrews Scenic Acres and Scotch Block Winery of Milton ON), threw their support behind the bill, as did Farmers Markets of Ontario. OVA president Jim Warren (Stoney Ridge Winery) added, "If it's acceptable for a handful of wineries to operate 300 independent wine stores in locations all over Ontario where a great deal of imported wine is sold in "Cellared in Canada" blends - a privilege denied to 95% of other wineries - surely it is no less acceptable for a small number of fruit wineries to sell their 100% Ontario products in a small number of farmers' markets in their local areas. 'Local' is an operative term today, and it is imperative for all of Ontario agriculture to turn this trend into sustainable reality."

MPP Runciman expressed his disappointment that Ontario was so ill served by this turn-around,
"Obviously, the government members have made a decision to reject this legislation. I think it's
unfortunate for the agricultural industry and people who are struggling in many parts of the province. This is a very modest initiative. We talked about pilot programs, and what we've heard is big business, really, suggesting that this is some sort of a secret deal that's going to do damage to the alcohol retail and distribution systems in the province of Ontario. It's just shameful. If you look at Spirits Canada, for example, they'll sell more Johnnie Walker Red in a year than we'll see produced as a result of allowing these small operators to help the province of Ontario, help the economies of rural Ontario, and help, ultimately, the tax coffers of the province of Ontario."

Bill 132 can still be revived, and OVA vigorously encourages all MPPs to get behind this initiative and allow their original wisdom and enthusiasm to carry the Bill through to success. As OVA has expressed in the past, Bill 132 is as 'green' and local as it gets. After decades of erecting barriers to wineries' success, it is simply the right thing for Ontario to do.

Link to Bill 132: http://tinyurl.com/yhytylc

Link to Standing Committee summary: http://tinyurl.com/yzelxm6

Contact: Jim Warren, President
Phone: (905) 383-3982

Allow me to backtrack about four years or so. I was chef at a subterranean night-club with delusions of restauranthood in silicon-stuffed, botox-injected, cocaine-fueled Yorkville, when who should wander in but Mr. James Chatto, no less. When I was a cook, he was the dude you both feared to encounter and prayed to have the opportunity to cook for one day. I was holed up in the kitchen, but the manager recognized him and gave me the heads up, which made me nervous, and of course, very mindful of my plating. He ordered my pan seared hallumi on grilled bread with tomato and Pernod, followed by my shrimp with Mediterranean herbs, tomato, feta, purple onion, and white wine on crispy fried polenta. Around the dish, a final sprinkling of fresh herbs and a swirl of my entirely pedestrian and delicious red sauce. He ate, he took notes, he lingered. He lingered long enough to witness what next went down.


My Sous and I--yes, those are cucumber slices on her eyes--in the cramped, basement kitchen in the Yorkville hellhole.

In walks the manager again, chit in hand, "Ordering! One plain chicken breast, nothing on it, nothing with it."
"Huh?"
"It's for Tiffany's puppy."
"Pardon? No."
"Just make the order."
"No."
My sous was crouching, reaching into the cooler, fishing for a chicken breast, her head obscured by the open door, but her body convulsing in silent hysterics.
"What's so bloody funny?"
"Oh the irony," she says, "one minute your cooking for the most influential food critic in Canada, the next, a dog!"
I laughed too, a belly laugh at first, but out of nowhere, and beyond my control the guffaws turned to tears. I hated that place. Had done for months by that point, but kept on--bills to pay. Without thought, trance-like, I untied my apron. "I have to leave here now. I knew this day would come, and it's come."
"You're serious."
"Yes, I'm going now. I'm done."
In a blur of emotion and tears, that came from, I don't know exactly where or about precisely what, I walked out, defiantly, through the dining room, abandoning my sous chef, doing what a good chef doesn't do. Having a girl-y melt down, leaving in a diva huff, and as I marched out, there he was, I caught his shock of salt and pepper hair from the corner of my eye, my food critic, my moment to shine, tarnished by some Yorkville rich-bitch and her pampered pooch. Or perhaps really just tarnished by my bruised ego.

When I got to the subway station, I called my sous on her cell and talked her through the next orders up--"you'll know the steak is done when...OK, now you need to add the garlic, but don't let it brown or it'll get bitter..."

Of course I didn't really quit that night. I'm much more calculating than that. I always plan my escapes very carefully: my marriage and my jobs. At that time I was dating an American, who I later discovered was married, but that's another story. Let's call him Jack. Oh wait, that's his name. Oops. I told him what I had done, and he said, "So, you had a diva moment. What would Wolfgang Puck have done in that situation?"
I thought for a moment, "He would have made the dog a fabulous dinner, served it to the damn pooch himself, and posed for a photo op. Then, he would have launched a line of Wolfgang Puck dog food and made another couple million bucks."
"Yes, that's right."

Okay, so now, here we are, 2010, no longer an underpaid, over-worked cook, now an underpaid freelance writer, and guess what, a PR firm has asked me to write about--go on, you guessed it--dog food! Oh karma, you sweet, seductive, cruel, bitch! Okay, this time you got me. I'll do it! I have a little doggy. He eats. In fact he loves his food just as much as any card-carrying foodie I've ever met, more even.


The Little Dude's been through enough--first owner died, time in a shelter, then foster-care--he deserves a little pampering now.

It's all very top secret at the moment, as the product is in the very early stages of trials. In other words, it's not on the shelves yet. So, the Little Dude and I are getting a sneak peek and he's being a bit of a guinea pig. What I can tell you--and by you I mean all you other dog owners--is that this food is purported to be all natural and full of herbal and food ingredients that support various systems: joint, digestive, and oral health. So far so good. We got our box of goodies yesterday (Jan. 7) and he just loved his first taste of the prebiotic cookie, the joint health chew stick, and the oral health chewy, while too big for his little mouth, sure did give him minty-fresh kisses! This morning was the true test, and once again, so far so good. No tummy upset and outside, it was business as usual, if you know what I mean.

Next week, back to human food, but I will be giving you periodic updates on The Little Dude and his creaky joints. Hopefully, they'll be less creaky.

I'm a lucky girl. Though, you know what Oprah says about luck, don't you? She doesn't believe in it. She believes that there is "only preparation meeting the moment of opportunity." And you know what, I think that makes a ton of sense. It's just easier I guess, to say one is lucky. It's more humble too. And you know how we Canadian's just love to be humble. In fact, we're rather proud, boastful even, of our--as Honest Ed Mirvish called it, "humbility".  Yes, I've worked hard. Yes, I'm 45 and just now finally seeing all my years of work and study begin...and I mean....BEGIN...to pay off. But I'm OK with that, because I don't feel 45. Sure, sometimes my feet or knees feel 45, especially first thing in the morning. And I don't sprint up the stairs the way I used to. But inside, well, it depends on the scenario, but I vacillate between feeling 5 or 12 or 25. Anyway, I'm not even sure what 45 is suppose to feel like. I have a mortgage, that feels 45. But, I digress. I wanted to tell you about how lucky I've been to have been asked to do a TV tour of Southern Ontario for the California Walnut Commission. My boyfriend's car has racked up a few miles, and I've memorized facts about California walnuts that I will most likely be able to recite on my death bed, AND I've had a blast! I've discovered that I am what my actor friends call a "stage hog". In other words; I like it up there! I have no fear. It's the strangest thing, I can't even see the great big, black, looming cameras--all of them pointing at me--they just don't mean a thing. And they all say the same thing, "You're a natural!" And that feels really great.


CTV Kitchener Host and Producer, Nancy Richards inspects all the delicious walnut dishes.

Click on the link to catch me in action with Roger's Daytime Richmond Hill.

But sometimes it's a wee bit bittersweet. I'm a late bloomer; I can tell myself that, and try, really try, to be OK with that. I come by it honestly. I had a really rough start, and that, no doubt, has caused me some setbacks through my life. And now is now, and that's all we have, right? And now is pretty damn good. The best it's ever been, really. I'm making a living doing what I love: cooking, eating, drinking, and writing about it. And now this, show biz, of a sort. My house is just my size, and full of critters--a starling*, a budgie**, and a chihuahua***--and my garden is big and lush, well not right now, but you know what I mean. And when folks see me flogging walnuts on some low-budget cable show or big budget national broadcast, they all say the same thing; "You were really great up there!" And that feels just fine.


That steam wreaked havoc with my hair! Here, I'm with Corus Entertainment, Host and Producer, Rita Nave.

Here are the the walnut inspired dishes I made over and over and over again, yet never tired of snacking on. For the recipes, please visit www.walnutinfo.com


Bite Size Savoury Walnut Scones


Savoury Walnut Cheesecake


Pork and Walnut Filled Dumplings with Walnut Sauce


Walnut and Panko Encrusted Prawns with Ponzu Glaze

So I keep on, as my father would say, "plugging away at it". It being my life and career, and while I keep on keeping on, I can hope that life, if not lucky, is at least susceptible to momentum.

* The starling, Mr. Stinky, fell from his nest too early...or perhaps his mother turfed him out? He's a bit high maintenance. Some kids found him, and their teacher, my niece, very wisely brought him to me. He's been a happy, well-fed, indoor starling ever since, and that was about 6 years ago. He enjoys wine.



** The budgie, Mr. Nibbles, is a new comer. I got him from the good folks at Parrot Sanctuary and he's a lovely, shy boy, who is really, ahem, coming out of his shell.



***And the chihuahua, Little Dude, is also a rescue. I was fortunate to find him through Canadian Chihuahua Rescue and Transport. He has issues, and he enjoys cabbage, coffee, and blueberries. I suspect his former owner was Eastern European! You really should check out the cutie-pies they have ready for a forever home. And if you're a knitter, they're always looking for little sweaters and blankets for their charges.