Category Archives: I almost failed Home Ec

Random Long Weekend Thoughts

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The Targeted Ads Algorithm Is Broken

Several times a week I am the bemused recipient of advertisements for various stylish online shops, and currently, they are exclusively showing me jumpsuits. Jumpsuits! God bless you all for wearing and enjoying them, but the day I wriggle this mortal body into a piece of clothing that, by its very design, will end up puddled up on the bathroom floor every single time I use the facilities, is the day I find myself, as one of my senior yoga students said yesterday, on the wrong side of the grass.

At least the first few advertisements were black; I’m trying to envision myself wearing an exotic-floral print of anything and failing. I also seem to get a lot of advertisements for floral, one-piece bathing suits, which are right up there with tailored shorts on the list of things I am not going to wear, ever. I mean, I have worn them, in my checkered past, but never again. As we live, we grow.

A while back the Co-Op stopped giving out gas coupons and instead began sending something called Me-Wards, which I assumed would be tailored to my consumption habits, given the Me-Wards are linked to my account. Sadly, it appears there is no linkage whatsoever, or if there is, it’s so cryptic that no one could ever decipher the algorithm within. This week, my Me-Wards include frozen pizza, Coke products, some kind of cookie, and fresh Atlantic cod fillets so that I can, as it suggests, make my own chowder. Co-Op, it’s like you never knew me at all.

Getting the Girls Checked

It’s that time of the year again to get the girls checked out. I always smile in the change room when I see the directions on “how to tie a medical robe” because yes, I have gone into my mammogram with the robe on the wrong way. So if you ever wonder who would need these directions it is I who needs them. I asked the technician today, as she neatly arranged my sad excuse for a breast on the machine, if this was a strange kind of job to have. It’s actually really fascinating! she said enthusiastically. And everyone’s breasts are so different, so it’s never boring! I appreciated her zest, it’s refreshing to see someone so excited about their work. She handed me a remote control so I would have autonomy over the squishiness of the procedure, which is a new thing, I guess. Just go ahead and press the “plus” button until you feel you can’t stand it anymore, she said, and when I did this she became alarmed. Okay, stop, that’s enough, STOP! I think she thought I was going to flatten myself completely like a cartoon character run over by a steamroller.

Circling back to the robe, the first thing the technician did after confirming my birth date and being reassured that no, there is NO chance I’m pregnant, was ask me to remove it. Why then does it matter if it’s on the wrong way or not if it’s only going to be immediately removed? Perhaps it’s a medical robe faux pas? Perhaps it’s a conspiracy among diagnostics centres to make us all into uniform patients? Most likely, though, is that tying it in the back is actually quite difficult and feels ridiculous and really, who would do such a thing? Who indeed.

It’s Mini-Egg Season

I’m quite proud of how these little cuties turned out:

I took a recipe from my old copy of The Lutheran Ladies’ Family Favourites for “haystack cookies,” modified it by using coconut oil and cutting the sugar by a third, and then molded them into little nests. I’m nesting!

I feel extraordinarily crafty now; the next step is to figure out how to draw a bunny as I’m dividing up Lindt truffles into little paper bags for our Easter egg hunt this weekend. I usually give the boys – yes, they are teens but they still like chocolate eggs – a cryptic lists of hints, for a treasure hunt. This year I was feeling quite ambitious as I wrote a few poems for the hints; I wrote the kind of poems they learned about in school: limerick, tanka, haiku, acrostic, and couplet.

You may be saying to yourself, who doesn’t know how to draw a bunny? Well, the same person who has been known to tie her medical robe incorrectly, that’s who.

It’s Birthday Season

As puzzling as the Me-Wards are for Co-Op, I was gratified to see this on offer in my inbox:

I also refer to April as my birthday month; a mere DAY is not really enough to celebrate, is it? Last weekend we visited my parents and my mom made me my favourite strawberry-angel food cake, complete with pink non-dairy whipped cream. I have always had a pink cake on my birthday.

Pink cake goes beautifully with red wine; two of my favourite things. This year, for the first time ever, my birthday falls on Easter, and so I guess that means extra mini-eggs coming my way!

Speaking of red wine, my husband/ Santa gave me a beautiful bottle of Amarone in my stocking this year; I think this is the weekend to open it!

Happy long weekend to you all, and Happy Easter to all who celebrate. May your blessings and chocolates be many! xo

Eating a Rainbow: Greek Salad and Pita Night, a.k.a. the best night of the week

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On Barkley’s last eye check – he has a propensity for eye infections and is now, sadly, on drops for life – the veterinarian said that in all her time in veterinary medicine, she has never encountered a dog like him. Now, this has to be taken with a grain of salt as she is a young woman – her name, for example, is Madison, a name that conjures up images of youth – but it turns out that he is the most cooperative dog she has dealt with when it comes to people jabbing his eye with a handheld pressure machine, putting weird little litmus-like papers in his eye, and, of course, giving eye drops.

The reason is that Barkley is literally a Pavlov’s dog. From the first time I gave him eye drops, I would also give him a treat, and now he one hundred percent associates food with eye drops. He is part Labrador, after all, which makes him extremely food-motivated. He licks his lips the second I bring out the drops; he also has an internal clock that is so accurate, he begins to nudge me with his nose at 7:00 am and pm, when he is due for his drops. “Eye drops” is right up there with “walk” for words we cannot say without consequences.

Speaking of walks, I am looking very much forward to the day that it doesn’t take me five minutes to get dressed to go out for twenty-five minutes. Barkley has also associated my legwarmers with walking; from the moment I go to my bedroom to pull on my thickest, woolliest legwarmers, he follows me from room to room, staring at me until I get the leash.

So I’m looking forward to the weekend even more than normal, because – ALLEGEDLY – this extreme cold is going to break and we may even have plus temperatures. PLUS TEMPERATURES. I don’t even want to get my hopes up too high, but PLUS.

I always look forward to the weekend; I do make an effort to enjoy each day, each day is a gift, blah blah blah, but I love the flexibility and family time that the weekends bring. I especially enjoy the food. Fridays are my favourite weeknights because a) they involve wine, and usually lots of it, and b) it’s Greek salad and pita night!

You know those quizzes that say if you could have only one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be? This would be my meal: Greek salad, pita, and hummus. When I was pregnant with my youngest I ate it every other day. It’s just so good! So full of nutritious vitamins, protein, iron, and deliciousness. Most people associate onion with Greek salad but mine is onion-less, due to my dislike of raw onion. And cooked onion. And any onion that is not disguised by being pureed into a dish. It’s not the flavour I abhor, it’s the texture. And so, I give you my Greek salad and hummus recipe.

Greek Salad and Hummus, The Best Dinner of the Week

Chop up a whole bunch of cherry tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers (I like baby cucumbers but will use regular ones in a pinch). How much? Let’s say two peppers, five baby cucumbers (or most of one Long English), and a LOT of cherry tomatoes. I don’t know how to measure them; a couple of cups, maybe? Add black olives – the pitted Kalamata ones from Costco are the bomb – and some feta cheese. If you’re a non-dairy person, you could make some almond feta. For the dressing I use 1/3 cup olive oil, and then almost 1/3 cup of red wine vinegar and 2-3 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar. I like my dressing ZESTY. Add some garlic powder, basil, and oregano in indiscriminate amounts. Just shake it in there until it looks good. Pour over top and toss.

For the hummus I use a big can of rinsed and drained chickpeas, 1/5 of a pound block of tofu (bear with me here, explanation to follow), 1/4 cup each of lemon juice and olive oil, 2-3 cloves of garlic, a heaping tablespoon of tahini, a teaspoon of cumin, and some salt and pepper. I have no idea how much. Then I blend it all in my food processor until it’s nice and smooth. The tofu makes it super creamy. Usually I buy a block of tofu and freeze it in 1/5ths, individually, and thaw when the need for hummus is imminent. Occasionally I’ve pulsed in roasted red peppers or pitted Kalamata olives, but usually I prefer my plain-Jane version.

I warm up those cute little mini “party” pitas in the oven, and the guys get sauteed chicken breast as well, which I prepare while drinking large glasses of Cabernet Franc.

Photos from my old YMC posts, back when I used to stage my food. Let’s drop some feta artistically on the placemat! And allow the peppers to hover around their chopped up friend!

Who needs a filter when you can crop out your forehead? Yes, that glass does say Queen of Everything; my parents gave it to me for my birthday and I love it!

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Yes, There Are Good Things About February, We Just May Have To Dig A Little Deeper Edition

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You guys, this month is on track to become the coldest February since records began. SINCE RECORDS BEGAN. What is this madness? Every winter there comes a time when I intellectually know that there will be a time and a season after this, but emotionally I cannot register it. Like, it’s just going to be winter forever now, like we are in Game of Thrones and the White Walkers are going to come and kill us all or turn us into similarly zombie-like creatures.

Recently I discovered that some people have a favourite season, and that favourite season is winter, and I just cannot at all comprehend it. We are all different and life is a beautiful complex tapestry, but how is that possible? I suppose winter is different in different places, perhaps instead of months on end of spending a solid five minutes just getting enough outdoor clothing on to dart from the door to the car, it’s a soft wonderland of fluffy snow and moderately cold temperatures, that end in an actual spring. Well, we can dream, and although there is no end in sight to this frigidity, I will remind myself that I am not waiting for the trains to get through, living in danger of starvation and ruining my hands while twisting hay to burn.

Where’s my inner invincible summer?

Anyway, on to more positive things. March begins THIS COMING FRIDAY and at some point, although I cannot imagine it right now, at some point the snow will melt and my sunglasses won’t freeze to my face the way they did yesterday, when I walked the dog. February has the reputation of being a very drab month, but it has really flown by. I mean, the orthodontist mess was only two weeks ago! Poor February, it’s not its fault! It’s a good time to review some favourite things for this month.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Yes, There Are Good Things About February, We Just May Have To Dig A Little Deeper Edition

Hearts!

It seems that as soon as the Santas and reindeer disappear from the shelves, there are hearts wherever we look. I love hearts! I heart hearts! So it’s a great time to think about heart-shaped cookies and cakes, and – as of February 15 – price reduced boxes of chocolates. My husband does not give me anything like that, but he did present me with this run top:

Isn’t it cute? The photo is a bit blurry because I had just finished a run. Some of you may remember that last year, he gave me a run tank that said Bee Mine with a picture of a bee on it, which was life-affirming in every way.

Chocolate

Speaking of chocolate, I still had half a box of After Eights left over from Christmas; I chopped them up and added them to one of our favourite desserts, chocolate mousse pie. It was A VERY GOOD IDEA. If you have some leftover chocolate, or want to use up some cut-rate Valentine’s goodies, this is a fun thing to do.

Isn’t that tea towel cute? I think I got it from Bed Bath and Beyond on a nice little Saturday.

I also made this cake on the weekend – I didn’t use leftover chocolate, but I did layer it with ganache, chocolate buttercream, and raspberry filling, and it was extremely tasty. I’ve been trying to get comfortable with my frosting tips, and although I have a long way to go, I’m slowly improving.

Another recent chocolate dessert was this dairy-free version of my mom’s eclair recipe, which she had gotten from a cookbook that she had in high school. I used coconut oil instead of butter, and whipped coconut cream, and everyone loved them.

It’s Asparagus Season Somewhere

Let’s segue from chocolate to produce, shall we? Is there anything more exciting than seeing the price of produce decline? Probably. But it is a pretty big thing in my life, given how much money I spend on fruit and vegetables every week. It is sure not spring here but it must be somewhere because asparagus is a third of the price it was in January, and just today I was able to buy four pounds of strawberries without feeling faint, particularly since four pounds of strawberries are going to last us between two to three days, if we are lucky, and by “we” I mean “me” because no one else grocery shops in this house. Roasted asparagus though! It’s a promise that spring will be…well…not right around the corner but coming someday. And it’s also on the fast track to Flavour Town.

Flavour Town

My friend (HI TARYN) and I have a running joke about Guy Fieri. Sometimes, because we are wild people, my husband will flip the channel to Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on a Friday night. I know! Usually by the time he does this I’m either half asleep or half cranked from drinking wine on the couch, but when I see a few minutes of it, I enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong: I find the food featured on it universally disgusting. I spend a lot of time saying My god, how can anyone eat that? but that’s pretty judgmental of me since many people do, voluntarily, and with much enjoyment. However! My favourite part about the show is Guy Fieri’s reaction when he eats the house specialty. He never has a bad thing to say about anything. I really like that. I like that if he doesn’t seem to love something, he merely gives some random description about the food. Wow, there’s a big hit of garlic in this, and I can really taste the cilantro! But if he loves it, it’s a one-way ticket to Flavour Town.

Today I was teaching a class and I noticed one student’s water bottle. After class I asked if I could take a photo of it.

I didn’t ask her why she had this water bottle, I just felt it was enough that it is in existence.

The Year of the Runaways

This book, you guys. This book. Every single spare moment I had, I was reading it. I needed to know what happened, I needed to know how it was going to end, and then when it ended, I was completely bereft. I’m still thinking about it all the time. Can I go back in time and re-read it again for the first time? No. I cannot. I also can’t conceive of what to do now that it’s ended, so I am simultaneously reading Scottish History for Dummies and The Gift of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Are Supposed To Be and Embrace Who You Are. Why am I reading those two books after this amazing piece of art? They were next on my hold list. I’m learning a lot about William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, I’ll say that. Also, that I should ask for help more often.

See? Lots of great things about this month; we just had to look for them. What are your favourite things in February? xo

Eating a Rainbow: Stir Fry Night!

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Thank you EVERYONE who reached out to me after my disastrous week. Friday at 4:45 I was pouring myself a very generous glass of red, and after three (large) glasses I ended up going to sleep at 8:30 pm. My husband looked at me nodding off on the couch as we watched a documentary on travel in Ireland, and gently suggested that maybe I would be more comfortable in bed. Maybe! Maybe I would be. Zzzzz.

After a nice solid ten hours of sleep, I felt like a new woman. After all, everything was okay. The new orthodontist fixed my son’s broken bracket, and mentioned that of all the patients he has seen from the scandalous fallout of having a criminally unethical bankrupt orthodontist, we are the luckiest ones, the ones who are the least-worst-off. I am breathing a sigh of relief that I had rescheduled my son’s appointment due to his snowboard day at school; if I hadn’t done that, we would have been much worse off. As it was, I called the office manager of the interim orthodontist, the woman who had been so helpful to me during all this, and told her that she had behaved ethically and with integrity, and I was very appreciative of her. She said I was the only person who had said that, and that mostly she was dealing with, well, a mess and some very angry and distraught parents. As well you might imagine, but it wasn’t her fault.

You never know when a little kindness will help lift a person up. In the midst of all this, I baked my usual heart-shaped cookies on Wednesday; no matter what else, I felt that Valentine’s Day must not go unmarked by the baking of thematic cookies. I took some in to the new orthodontist office for the staff, and I’m not saying that THAT is the reason I was able to get my son in get his bracket fixed on the Teacher’s Convention Friday before a long weekend, but I’m not NOT saying that either. I’m just saying, being kind helps.

It’s been a short week – I can’t believe it’s already Thursday! – and it has been a good one. We had some Very Good News from a medical standpoint, which decimated my Very Big Stressor. We had two days of not-terrible temperatures, and although we are back in the thick of it, cold-wise, just having a two day respite was enough to buoy me up. Then, yesterday I was pushing my very heavy grocery cart through the not-yet-plowed parking lot at Superstore. The snow was thick and very soft, and my torso was literally horizontal as I pushed through. Effort-wise, this is the CrossFit of grocery shopping. Finally the cart got stuck and I could not budge it, not at all. It was only three cars away from my car so I abandoned it and started to take my bags and bins, one by one, to the car. A man who was in the midst of plowing the parking lot, but was in another row, noticed. He stopped his plow and RAN over to help me, dragging the cart backwards to my car. It was such an unexpected act of kindness; there are many good people in the world, let’s remember that.

Speaking of groceries, it’s time once again for Eating a Rainbow! As I mentioned in my meal plan, I make some kind of stir-fry once a week. There are three types I cycle through: Pad Thai, Thai Coconut Curry, and what is known in this house as Noodly Stir-Fry. There are two common threads in these meals: a) I use about 10 cups of vegetables for each – if you want to eat more veggies, you need to cook more veggies, is my motto, and b) the guys get sauteed chicken breast that is splashed with soy sauce after cooking. As for vegetables, I use a combination of carrots, mushrooms, peppers, and, with the exception of Noodly, broccoli.

Pad Thai

I wrote about this long ago at YMC, but it has evolved quite a bit from then. Start with the veggies, as above, and chicken, if you’ve got meat-eaters. Or “carnies” as I will forever call them.

Make the sauce: mix together 1/4 cup each seasoned rice vinegar and soy sauce. Whisk in 1 teaspoon of cornstarch. Add 3 tablespoons each sesame oil and lime juice. I also use a tablespoon of brown sugar, but I realized that I forgot the sugar this past Tuesday and no one, including me, noticed. So possibly omit. Then stir in a heaping teaspoon or maybe two of chili garlic sauce. In a large wok, pour 2/3 of the sauce over the vegetables and cook until tender-crisp – this usually takes me 10 minutes, no more. Don’t overcook unless you like soft veggies. Then add cooked rice stick noodles – I use a 250 gram package, but I think I need to up that with growing kids who love this meal and leave almost no noodles for my husband and I. I drizzle sriracha sauce over mine, and add 1/4 cup cashews and some fresh cilantro from my little downstairs grow-op. I’m using the old YMC photo because hey, I never stage my food anymore and it looks really pretty.

Don’t forget to artistically drop cashews around.

Thai Coconut Curry

To make the sauce for this, I copied from my friend Melody (HI MELODY) years ago, and have made it my own. Take a veggie stock cube – I use one of those squishy ones from Knorr – and add about 1/4 cup of water. Then I put a few squirts of Bragg’s Soy Seasoning in; how much is a mystery. Maybe a tablespoon or two? I don’t know. Then I add a tablespoon of brown sugar, a couple of pressed garlic cloves, and a whole bunch of grated ginger. I essentially grate ginger until it looks like an insane amount of ginger, then I grate some more. You might want to dial that back, if you’re not a fan of ginger. Mix in a heaping teaspoon or more of Thai red curry paste, and about 1/2 cup (full fat!) coconut milk. After that’s done, I throw in the mushrooms and about a cup of frozen edamame, and cook for a couple of minutes. Then I add the rest of the veggies and cook for 8-10 minutes, being sure nothing is getting gross or mushy. I serve this over rice, again with 1/4 cup cashews for me and some fresh cilantro.

See, I really don’t stage things anymore. There IS rice underneath there, you just can’t really see it.

Noodly Stir-Fry

This one is probably my favourite, and it is not so much a recipe as a “recipe.” I pour some sesame oil – maybe a tablespoon – into the wok and add 2-3 cloves of pressed garlic and, once again, a ton of grated ginger. Like, a ton. Like a six-inch piece of ginger root. Again, this may or may not be appropriate for you, but it works in the ginger-loving Boyhouse. Then I put all the veggies in and douse generously with seasoned rice vinegar and soy sauce. How much? I have no idea. Maybe a 1/4 cup each, but I really don’t know. I never measure this recipe, I just pour. As I said before, measure with your heart, people, measure with your heart. Cook for ten minutes or so and then add in cooked noodles. I use the ones that are labelled “Chinese Style Steam Fried Noodles” and they take about 1 minute in boiling water to cook. I do a quick taste test and sometimes add a bit more sesame oil, rice vinegar, or soy sauce, and then I sprinkle my plate with cilantro and cashews, because I cannot get enough of either. Peanuts would be nice here too but I rarely use them. My older son uses a lot of sriracha on this dish, but no one else does. I guess he’s living the spicy life.

So there you have it! Stir-fry night, a very popular night in this house. Lot of veggies, lots of flavour, and very easy to put together. There is quite a bit of vegetable chopping involved, but I time this so it’s early in the week, when I have more dinner-making energy.

The apple that rolled away

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Last week I was startled to learn that Johnny Rotten is not only still alive, but he just turned 63. I grouped him in with aging rockers who have defied all odds by living past the Eighties, such as Billy Idol and, of course, Keith Richards. I was talking to a friend about this (HI TARYN), and she told me that Johnny Rotten is actually a person on the straight and narrow, which I did NOT know. I guess this is a cautionary tale for anyone jumping to conclusions about people based on their occupation, appearance, and, possibly, the company they keep. On further investigation, I discovered that Johnny Rotten tried heroin one time and then quit after it made him throw up, and also he was predisposed to not use based on the cautionary tale that is Sid Vicious. In addition, he got his stage name due to his total lack of oral hygiene, which led to rotting teeth which he had completely replaced in the early 2000s, not just because of vanity, but because the dental rot was affecting his health.

On that note, I have a dental cleaning tomorrow! I am “looking forward” to it as much as I “look forward” to getting a mammogram or Pap smear. I cannot wait for the hygienist to tell me again that my dental tape – which I use to floss every day, EVERY SINGLE DAY – is all wrong, and that I might as well be using nothing. I will refrain from mentioning that big, gross study that said that flossing in general is ineffective; you will tear my dental tape out of my cold, dead hands.

After a few months of fairly mild winter weather, we are suddenly living in a Planet Hoth Simulator; it is the kind of painful cold that makes it difficult to do anything at all. It’s difficult to get undressed to get into the shower, and then difficult to get out of the shower. It’s difficult to get dressed again and difficult to do regular things like get groceries or, you know, leave the house at all. The dog hasn’t been walked for days, although it’s “warming up” this afternoon so I might give it a go. Here is a sadly Canadian thing: this morning I chatted with a friend about how it “didn’t feel SO bad” this morning, at minus 24. It’s all relative, I guess. I’m trying not to complain.

Thankfully the cold weather, along with sleety snow and treacherous roads, hit the day AFTER my son got back from his Epic Winter Camping Overnight Adventure. He got off the bus, enthusing about how great the trip was. He Loved Every Minute Of It. The apple not only fell far from the tree, but it rolled several thousand metres away, ending up in an entirely different orchard, with entirely different fruit.

Well, not entirely. The one thing he admitted he didn’t love was the food. “There weren’t any vegetables!” he said indignantly, adding that the only fruit available was in the form of apple cinnamon instant oatmeal. It made me smile. Imagine hauling fresh produce on a 12 kilometre uphill ski! Although the teacher in charge, and one of the volunteer dads each hauled a Chariot with ski attachment full of supplies all the way, which made me appreciate their fitness levels.

We do eat a LOT of vegetables and fruit around here, to the point where strangers comment on my grocery cart contents. If you are looking for ways to eat more veggies, well, I’m your huckleberry.

Lately, inspired by the lovely Suzanne (HI SUZANNE), I’ve been toying with sharing my weekly meal plans, including school lunches. I recently read something that basically said people have lost the basic ability to cook, due in part to the really super detailed recipes on blogs and in cookbooks. Is that true? When I was learning to cook, I had a very simple step-by-step beginner’s cookbook, and I was completely paranoid to deviate from the recipe AT ALL. OMG, I used a teaspoon of oregano and it was only supposed to be half a teaspoon! But with practice, all is coming, as they say in the yoga world. I realized that, other than for baked goods, I rarely use a recipe for anything. Even when it comes to baked goods, I change and modify the recipe almost always, mostly to cut sugar or to make it vegan or what have you, depending on who in the house is going to be eating it. So I think in the coming weeks I will start sharing my meal plans – which are pretty much the same week after week, with some variations on a theme – as well as my “recipes” for those meals. The “recipes” are always inexact and approximate, which is what will make them fun. They also contain vast amounts of vegetables, which you have probably already guessed.

One thing that you likely already know, if you have been reading this blog for any length of time, is that my husband and kids eat meat and I do not. I do cook meat for them, and I do not make separate meals. Essentially, which you will find out when I start posting my meal plan, I make a veggie-centric dish six out of seven days a week, and most of those days I include meat on the side, so the guys can add it to their meal. The one day I do not do this is Sunday, but that’s a whole other post.

Today I saw a woman asking for advice for her picky eaters; a woman I know who wrote a book and is evidently a parenting educator, strongly advocated for not taking her children’s personal tastes into account when making dinner. Just make dinner, and if they don’t like it, they can go fuck themselves, was essentially the takeaway. Well. I have very strong feelings about this. I always cook dinners that I, personally, like. I think it’s the prerogative of the cook to make things that they themselves enjoy. However. Imagine what it would be like if someone cooked for you and discovered that you have an absolute hatred for celery, as I do. Imagine then that this person was like “Well, I love celery, so CELERY IN EVERYTHING! You don’t like it? THEN YOU MIGHT AS WELL STARVE.” I think there is maybe a middle ground to be found here.

One thing I pride myself in is having calm, pleasant dinners with my family, and I don’t think that atmosphere can be maintained with an attitude of I’m making whatever I want and I don’t care what you like. The kids are teens now and basically hoover up everything, but when they were small, I would make sure that they had at least SOMETHING they could eat at dinner. One meal, yes, but sometimes things can be added or subtracted from that meal. For example, for years one of my sons would eat taco shells with cheese and vegetables on taco night, but all separately. To this day, my son who loathes tomatoes will eat a pile of pasta, just buttered. He also is the son who eats all the roasted vegetables I serve with pasta, so I consider that very acceptable. Everyone leaves the table full, and happy, and they always thank me for a “great dinner” whether it was something I spent all afternoon on or something I threw together in twenty minutes.

Anyway. This has gotten fairly wordy so I shall close. I think it’s going to be a fun way to spend February, writing about the Meals of the Boyhouse. I mean, what else happens in February? Valentine’s Day and rage about Costco carts? Well, there might be some of that too. I’m only human. xo

Buddhas, Black Friday, and Bikinis

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I’m torn between not wanting time to go any faster than it already does, living mindfully in the moment, savouring every day, and also counting down the next three weeks until Christmas vacation. On the one hand – mindfulness! On the other – hoo boy, am I looking forward to the break.

Were you on the edge of your seat, wondering how the white chocolate fudge turned out? Well, wonder no more! IT DID NOT GO WELL.

I was so optimistic until the time came to cut it; it was not dissimilar to cutting into a thick pudding. Which is to say, it was messy and weird. Again, how? How did this happen? How do two things that become solid when frozen become a non-Newtonian fluid when mixed together? Why do I need a degree in chemistry to make fudge? At any rate, I was very disappointed. By this time, I had sunk approximately $15 worth of ingredients into that little pan, and I was loathe to throw it out. It’s like throwing $15 in the compost bin. I put the pan back in the freezer and took the dog for a walk.

Taking a walk is great for generating ideas, isn’t it? The little loop Barkley and I walk takes about thirty minutes, and it is good thinking time for me. It’s also a good way to practice mindfulness and notice my surroundings. For example, there is one house on our loop that has a Buddha statue on their front step; it’s not just any Buddha statue, either. There is a jagged edge where the head used to be. This headless Buddha has been there for many months, and the strangest thing is that the head sits on the drain spout directly beside its decapitated body. To my inexpert handywoman eye, it seems like it would be easily fixed with some Gorilla Glue, but no. I can’t help wondering why. It cannot be unnoticed by the residents of the house. Is it some kind of statement? Mere laziness? We may never know the answer.

In any case, as I was walking, I wondered why I was so attached to the idea of little squares of fudge. Practice non-attachment, Nicole. I came up with the idea of rolling the fudge-like-substance into little balls and then dusting with cocoa powder, like a truffle. I tried later that day and it was incredibly messy and oddly difficult, but it somewhat worked.

They did not hold shape particularly well, but my younger son assured me that they were delicious and that he would volunteer as tribute to eat the entire thing, if no one else wanted them. Always willing to sacrifice, that’s him.

I made a coffee date last Friday with a colleague of mine; we both had a brief window of time and she had an appointment in my quadrant of the city. For those of you who I have had actual coffee dates with, you already know that I never have any clue about cool and interesting coffee shops. I never know where anything is and I’m always at a loss to suggest a venue. But for this coffee date, I suggested the Starbucks at a nearby mall; my colleague’s appointment was just down the hill from it, and I live about five minutes away. Normally I do not set foot in the mall after mid-November, but I thought 10:30 on a Friday morning, how bad could it be?

It was Black Friday.

Later, when I was relating this story, a friend (HI ALANA) said to me How could you not know it was Black Friday? Didn’t you get all the emails? Well, yes. My inbox had been exploding over the past week, and yet I never made the connection between the mall and Black Friday. Neither did my colleague, which is how I ended up circling the road-rage-filled parking lot, trying to find a spot, and having to allow an extra twenty minutes to leave the parking lot, so that I wouldn’t be late for my class.

It’s ridiculous, really. Black Friday ISN’T A THING IN CANADA. Well, I guess it IS a thing now, no matter how much I deny it. The parking lot was similar to Christmas Eve or Boxing Day, with the exact kind of panicked, I must buy all the things attitude that one might see on those days. It was insane. The only upside is that I got to see all the pretty Christmas decorations that were not up when last I was in the mall, such as a gigantic sparkly moose.

And as much as I deny the existence of Black Friday, I am not made of stone. The endless barrage of emails from various retailers wore me down, and I actually clicked on the one from La Vie En Rose. I was in the market for a new bikini, anyway, and they had absolutely ridiculous prices. The one I fell in love with was obtained for a mere $22. Twenty-two dollars! Of course, my husband looked at the photo and pronounced it “ugly” and that the “embroidery looks old-ladyish.”

Well. I do not think it’s UGLY but he may have a point in terms of old-ladyish-ness. A few years ago I realized that triangle-and-string bikinis were really not suitable anymore, for a few reasons, most notably that they were no longer flattering – hello, gravity – and also they were not providing the, shall I say, coverage that I think is appropriate for a woman my age who is the mother of two teenage boys. Since I refuse to wear one-pieces for the same reasons I refuse to wear rompers or jumpsuits, more modest bikinis are my new jam. The key word here is COVERAGE. I don’t want to end up dressing like Stacy’s Mom.

Speaking of teen boys, this week I took them to the dentist for their cleaning and checkups. They are still going to the same pediatric dentist we’ve been patronizing for a decade. It occurred to me for the first time that perhaps it might be time to switch dentists; not because I have any issues with the actual dentist practice, in fact, it’s the opposite. I love their whole office. However, I thought maybe it was time to move on when I looked at my sons and their feet hanging off the small purple dental chairs, their heads popping up above the headrests. I asked the dentist at what point should we say good-bye to them, and he said that he sees kids up to age eighteen. I pictured their future six-foot-plus frames squished into the child-sized dental chairs.

The thing is, their office is so convenient. It is literally a three-minute drive from my house, and approximately that long from their school. They had an 8:00 appointment and both were back at the school by 8:25. I mean, you can’t buy that kind of convenience. Maybe I will keep them there until they are 18, their deep voices will be a change from the usual high-pitched screaming that is de rigeur in any given pediatric dental office.

Spoiled

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It occurred to me yesterday, as I was baking muffins at 6:30 in the morning, that my children are exceedingly spoiled. I might go so far as to say that my husband is, as well. Of course, anyone who knows me would think that is probably a rich statement, coming from such a princess, but just because I am incredibly spoiled doesn’t preclude my family being so as well.

There is a difference, I think, in being spoiled and being a spoiled brat, and I will say that the latter is not the case. And, as one of my students said to me as I mentioned that my dog has become much more spoiled with age, that is on me. It’s true! It’s my fault. I don’t really think the kids are spoiled in terms of material things, not really, but they certainly are in terms of food. Hence, muffins at 6:30 in the morning, so that the kids will be able to have a delicious homemade snack when they get home from school.

Delicious homemade snacks and fresh fruit are my two must-have-at-all-time-items, which certainly explains why all my free time is spent grocery shopping and preparing food. I was just telling a friend that I have two refrigerators and one refrigerator-sized freezer, and all of those appliances are chock-full of food all the time. Doesn’t food go bad though? she asked, and no. Nothing goes bad in our house, ever, with the exception of the odd mini-cucumber. This is because we never go out to eat, and I make all our meals, and most things, from scratch.

Side note: whenever I say I make something from scratch, I think of my beloved late Grandma Fern, who used to say about cakes allegedly made from scratch, Scratch your ass and reach for the mix? Oh, Grandma. I was a little skeptical about Hedy’s spice cake at the church potluck too.

Anyway, I do make most things from scratch – no ass-scratching involved – and so now my family is so accustomed to homemade things that store-bought or restaurant items “taste weird.” This includes but is not limited to: ice cream, muffins, loaves, cookies, cakes, brownies, pasta sauce, and, strangely, hummus. It is a problem of my own making but sometimes I’d just like to buy a container of hummus from Costco without everyone wondering what’s wrong with this hummus, it tastes weird. 

ICE CREAM, you guys. A few years ago my husband bought me an ice cream maker, after we were at a dinner party at which the hostess served her own homemade ice cream. One thing led to another and now I have no fewer than three flavours of homemade ice cream in the freezer at any given time. And I don’t even eat ice cream! But I digress.

I am not one to talk, though, as I recently discovered my own “it tastes weird” scenario and that is store-bought cilantro. A few years ago, as a Valentine’s gift, my husband bought me my own indoor grow lights so I can grow HERBS NOT THAT KIND OF HERBS ACTUAL FOOD HERBS. I almost exclusively grow cilantro because a) it’s easy to grow and b) no one else in my house will eat cilantro, and I hated how quickly a bunch would go bad in my refrigerator. The only thing I will accept going bad is the single mini-cucumber every two weeks. So, for the past few years I’ve grown my own cilantro, loving how I can just easily harvest the exact amount I need when I need it.

Over the summer, though, we were out of town and so I took a cilantro-planting break. I didn’t feel I’d be around enough to give my little plants love, and also I am deathly afraid of fire and wouldn’t want to leave the grow lights on lest a cilantro plant weave its way into the fluorescent lights, dry out, and suddenly burst into flames, eventually leaving the house to be a smoking hole in the ground while we were off on vacation.

My two greatest fears in life are, in this order, my husband and/or children being diagnosed with a terminal illness, and fire. I cannot even contemplate having little scented candles in the house, I will never run the dryer if I’m going to step out of the house for even five minutes, and I look nervously at the allegedly harmless little tea lights that are lit in the yoga studio. What if someone knocks it over, and the whole studio goes up in flames? I think, extremely irrationally, given that the tea light would most likely just extinguish itself before such a scenario would ever happen. I even was anxious during Christmas Eve candlelight services, although that fear I think has much more basis. I mean, some of those little kids holding actual flames? What if one of them set my hair on fire? I would think, as a teenager. Given the fact that it was the eighties, and I went through a bottle of Salon Selectives a week, this was a pretty rational fear.

When I was a kid my maternal grandparents had a lamp that rotated, and when it was lit, it looked like a forest fire. A forest fire! God help me. No wonder I’m so crazy. I was obsessed with looking at the forest fire lamp, which probably explains a lot.

Anyway! Enough about fire. Back to the cilantro story. When we returned from vacation, I replanted some seeds, but in the interim, as I waited for them to sprout their little green deliciousness, I needed my favourite stir-fry garnish and so purchased a bunch from the local Co-Op.

People. I thought I had actually bought the wrong herb. It tasted…weird. Is this parsley? Or what? I thought, then looked at the little labeled twist tie. No. It’s cilantro. It tasted weird and off and I thought it must be the bunch. I threw it out – breaking my own rules – and bought another bunch at Superstore. I looked carefully – yes, it definitely is cilantro – and when I got it home it was the same thing. I have spoiled MYSELF for regular cilantro. After growing my own I cannot go back to conventionally grown cilantro. I can’t. I won’t. No wonder my kids look askance at bakery goods and regular ice cream. IT ALL TASTES WEIRD.