Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Thanksgiving
Although I'm an American by birth, I'm Canadian by choice, marriage, and luck. Enormous luck.
One of the many benefits of living in Canada is Canadian Thanksgiving. The timing is far more sane than American Thanksgiving--instead of having a long, intense holiday month that begins with turkey and ends in an exhausted heap of discarded holiday wrapping paper, Canadians eat their big birds in October. Everyone gets a chance to breathe, get away from their families (and their family disagreements), and generally calm down before revving up for the next round.
On top of that, mid-October is a lovely and logical time for a harvest festival. It's gorgeous out right now. The leaves are brilliant but still mostly on the trees, it's still warm enough for long, lazy strolls, and all the traditional Thanksgiving food are at the height of harvest.
Down to the facts. Here's what we ate:
Turkey from Maplegrove Farms, stuffed with sage, thyme, parsley, and onions from Rumtopf Farm as well as garlic from the backyard, cooked in a clay pot. (Not terribly attractive, but succulent as all get out)
Stuffing made with bread from La Boulangerie Vendeenne, red peppers and mushrooms from Glad Gardens in the valley, sausage from Kurt Wentzell at Wooly Mountain Farm, and chicken stock from one of Sustenance Gardens organic chickens
Gingered puree of buttercup squash (the 'pumpkins' in our back yard that persistently refused to turn orange or get big, whoops)
Mashed potatoes, Rumtopf Farm
A corn and creme fraiche pudding, corn from Glad Garden (Those guys really need to get a website for me to link to! Guess they're too busy building those interesting log greenhouses of theirs)
Cranberry relish--and I actually made my own this year, with local organic cranberries, of course
A baguette from Vendeenne, and
Mama's secret gravy (hint: the secret is a lot of sherry)
One of the many benefits of living in Canada is Canadian Thanksgiving. The timing is far more sane than American Thanksgiving--instead of having a long, intense holiday month that begins with turkey and ends in an exhausted heap of discarded holiday wrapping paper, Canadians eat their big birds in October. Everyone gets a chance to breathe, get away from their families (and their family disagreements), and generally calm down before revving up for the next round.
On top of that, mid-October is a lovely and logical time for a harvest festival. It's gorgeous out right now. The leaves are brilliant but still mostly on the trees, it's still warm enough for long, lazy strolls, and all the traditional Thanksgiving food are at the height of harvest.
Down to the facts. Here's what we ate:
Turkey from Maplegrove Farms, stuffed with sage, thyme, parsley, and onions from Rumtopf Farm as well as garlic from the backyard, cooked in a clay pot. (Not terribly attractive, but succulent as all get out)
Stuffing made with bread from La Boulangerie Vendeenne, red peppers and mushrooms from Glad Gardens in the valley, sausage from Kurt Wentzell at Wooly Mountain Farm, and chicken stock from one of Sustenance Gardens organic chickens
Gingered puree of buttercup squash (the 'pumpkins' in our back yard that persistently refused to turn orange or get big, whoops)
Mashed potatoes, Rumtopf Farm
A corn and creme fraiche pudding, corn from Glad Garden (Those guys really need to get a website for me to link to! Guess they're too busy building those interesting log greenhouses of theirs)
Cranberry relish--and I actually made my own this year, with local organic cranberries, of course
A baguette from Vendeenne, and
Mama's secret gravy (hint: the secret is a lot of sherry)
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Local Joe
One of my favorite parts of rural Nova Scotia life is the opportunity to get intimate with my food chain. I go to the post office to pick up mail and exchange greetings with Donna, who grew the cilantro for last night's Ginger, Sherry, and Cilantro Scallops. We drive past the cows that will feed us this winter on our way to the grocery store. Just this morning I had a nice chat with Perry Brandt, who produces our honey. (OK, his bees produce it.) His hives were knocked over by hooligans a couple weeks ago but happily, the queens all survived and are buzzing away.
And one of my very favorite local food businesses is Laughing Whale Coffee. Fair trade, organic, and soon-to-be something else sexy that I'm not allowed to give away, Laughing Whale is a glowing example of best practices in a situation where the local meets the imported. Even better, they occasionally give me some free beans. Are they any good? Here's the scoop:
I confess that I approached Laughing Whale’s new Sumatran blend with trepidation. As a connoisseur of fine food and drink, I’ve always felt that I should like dark roasts—yet I rarely do. A history with inferior darks, tinged with bitter or sour notes, has curtailed my exploratory nature. Starbucks, I point the finger of blame chiefly at you. Too many unpalatable cups had led me to think of dark roast as a sort of S&M food --with a cautious exception for the French, who surely must know what they’re doing.
Sue’s Sumatran turned out to be a delightful exception to my dark past. I found it rich and smoky toned while managing to avoid any outright bitterness. This finely attenuated roast was dark but smoothly balanced, and strong, yet gentle on the palate.
My favourite thing, though, about Sue’s Sumatran was its stellar ability to stand alone—no sugar, no cream, no crutch or mediator of any kind. Unlike most coffees, including my household staple grinds, the Sumatran tasted best to me straight up black. It was just me and the cup, poised in a long, calm sip with a clean finish before a headlong plunge into the day.
And one of my very favorite local food businesses is Laughing Whale Coffee. Fair trade, organic, and soon-to-be something else sexy that I'm not allowed to give away, Laughing Whale is a glowing example of best practices in a situation where the local meets the imported. Even better, they occasionally give me some free beans. Are they any good? Here's the scoop:
I confess that I approached Laughing Whale’s new Sumatran blend with trepidation. As a connoisseur of fine food and drink, I’ve always felt that I should like dark roasts—yet I rarely do. A history with inferior darks, tinged with bitter or sour notes, has curtailed my exploratory nature. Starbucks, I point the finger of blame chiefly at you. Too many unpalatable cups had led me to think of dark roast as a sort of S&M food --with a cautious exception for the French, who surely must know what they’re doing.
Sue’s Sumatran turned out to be a delightful exception to my dark past. I found it rich and smoky toned while managing to avoid any outright bitterness. This finely attenuated roast was dark but smoothly balanced, and strong, yet gentle on the palate.
My favourite thing, though, about Sue’s Sumatran was its stellar ability to stand alone—no sugar, no cream, no crutch or mediator of any kind. Unlike most coffees, including my household staple grinds, the Sumatran tasted best to me straight up black. It was just me and the cup, poised in a long, calm sip with a clean finish before a headlong plunge into the day.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Perfecting the Half-Assed Garden
I accept that I will never have a neat and tidy full-assed garden. It's simply not my style. The thought of getting things in the ground at just the right time in straight little rows makes me break out into hives.
Luckily, there's always more than one way to plant a seed. My backyard is bursting with the most gorgeous squash and tomatoes you'd ever hope to see.
Of course, I didn't plant any squash or tomatoes. Not on purpose, anyway. Last week I took down our tent to pack it up for a camping trip on Prince Edward Island--and behind it, in a narrow alley between the back wall and the pine trees, was a forest of green that had sprouted from a leftover pile of last year's compost. Since I've moved the tent it's blossomed further; squash tentacles adorned with huge, school-bus colored flowers have stretched out nearly five feet into the tent's old footprint.
Conversations with local farmers affirm my suspicions that this is actually a great way to garden: eat local, organic produce and toss the (seedy) scraps in the compost. Spread it out on a likely plot and just see what grows. The best-suited and most vigourous plants will claim the space. Next year, I'm just going to do more of the same and enjoy whatever decides to present itself.
We've been talking about our plans for the unexpected bounty. Between the squash, tomatoes, herbs, and garlic (all four varietals are producing beautifully), I think there will be some serious late summer soupmaking. Watch this space for recipes!
Luckily, there's always more than one way to plant a seed. My backyard is bursting with the most gorgeous squash and tomatoes you'd ever hope to see.
Of course, I didn't plant any squash or tomatoes. Not on purpose, anyway. Last week I took down our tent to pack it up for a camping trip on Prince Edward Island--and behind it, in a narrow alley between the back wall and the pine trees, was a forest of green that had sprouted from a leftover pile of last year's compost. Since I've moved the tent it's blossomed further; squash tentacles adorned with huge, school-bus colored flowers have stretched out nearly five feet into the tent's old footprint.
Conversations with local farmers affirm my suspicions that this is actually a great way to garden: eat local, organic produce and toss the (seedy) scraps in the compost. Spread it out on a likely plot and just see what grows. The best-suited and most vigourous plants will claim the space. Next year, I'm just going to do more of the same and enjoy whatever decides to present itself.
We've been talking about our plans for the unexpected bounty. Between the squash, tomatoes, herbs, and garlic (all four varietals are producing beautifully), I think there will be some serious late summer soupmaking. Watch this space for recipes!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
And a Word From Jacques Cousteau
...and let us remember too that life, in its exuberance, always succeeds in overflowing the narrow limits within which man thinks he can confine it.
Goodbye, Luna
We had a lovely long weekend on Prince Edward Island... then came home Monday to a sick dog.
Luna had been ill like this before. Her hips clearly hurt and her eyes were dull. She was eating and drinking,though, and managed to haul herself up the stairs and onto her favorite couch. She wagged her tail furiously when we said "good girl". She enjoyed her ear rubs.
But Tuesday morning she simply collapsed and that was the end.
I'm glad she didn't suffer long. I'm glad we didn't have to struggle with complicated care or the decision to put her down. But gosh, it was too quick.
And the house, now, is too quiet.
We had a dinner in her honor last night. I made this dish.
Remembrance Potatoes
Ingredients
Local new potatoes, freshly dug
Kosher salt
Unsalted butter
Rosemary to taste (ours comes from a pot on the back porch. Luna was always trying to eat it.)
Directions
Bring a suitably sized pot of water to a boil. Add 1 cup of kosher salt for every quart of water. Stir to dissolve, making a brine.
Add the potatoes, lid, and boil for 15-30 minutes or until soft to the fork. Drain but do not rinse.
Toss the potatoes with unsalted butter and rosemary. Eat with mindfulness and love.
Luna had been ill like this before. Her hips clearly hurt and her eyes were dull. She was eating and drinking,though, and managed to haul herself up the stairs and onto her favorite couch. She wagged her tail furiously when we said "good girl". She enjoyed her ear rubs.
But Tuesday morning she simply collapsed and that was the end.
I'm glad she didn't suffer long. I'm glad we didn't have to struggle with complicated care or the decision to put her down. But gosh, it was too quick.
And the house, now, is too quiet.
We had a dinner in her honor last night. I made this dish.
Remembrance Potatoes
Ingredients
Local new potatoes, freshly dug
Kosher salt
Unsalted butter
Rosemary to taste (ours comes from a pot on the back porch. Luna was always trying to eat it.)
Directions
Bring a suitably sized pot of water to a boil. Add 1 cup of kosher salt for every quart of water. Stir to dissolve, making a brine.
Add the potatoes, lid, and boil for 15-30 minutes or until soft to the fork. Drain but do not rinse.
Toss the potatoes with unsalted butter and rosemary. Eat with mindfulness and love.
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