Sweet Autumn

Yesterday was officially the first day of autumn, and it's making me happier than I can possibly express. Most people who know me well know that this is my favourite season: the weather turns crisp and cool, leaves change colour, and a sense of calm falls over me as I begin to nest in for the winter. I have to admit, my idea of a perfect evening would be sharing a gorgeous dinner with a small group of friends, and then curling up by the fireside with a book or some knitting and a cup of mulled cider, and the darker half of the year is really quite meant for such evenings, isn't it? Wow, am I a wild child... Fortunately, my dear Nathaniel is much of the same mindset, so it works out rather well.


Our little sparrow, Robin, is growing up to be quite the handsome gentleman. It's amazing how much personality is squeezed into that bird, but it's truly a wonder to behold. He has definite likes and dislikes, an extensive vocabulary of warbles and squeaks, and recognises several words that we say: so far, the words that elicit the best response from him are "almond", "blueberry", and the latest one, "TIMBIT". I've also discovered his fondness for Lady Grey tea with agave syrup and a squeeze of lemon juice: what can I say, my boy has good taste. I just have to find a way to keep him out of my teacup.

Robin and a honey cruller Timbit with his name on it.

We thought that we would need to sort out a new nesting place for him for the winter, as his abode in a metal "N" atop our radiator would not be ideal once the heat is turned on. He seems to have sorted out that issue for himself, however, as he has made a little den for himself in one of the cubbyholes built into the Victorian writing-desk we have in a corner by the window.


This season is full of so many delights, and not just those of home and hearth: farmers' markets are teeming with the season's harvest, and we can once again indulge in soups, stews and casseroles that would have been terribly out of place in summertime. The other night, my dear friend Becca created a dish of quinoa with roasted squash, leeks, and garlic that was absolutely gorgeous, and I've been craving roasted squash and pear soup like you wouldn't believe. Nathaniel also has a penchant for creating melanges of root vegetables that, despite their simplicity, have a richness of flavour that has to be witnessed firsthand. We don't really have a recipe for this per se, but there are only a few key ingredients that are needed:


- organic root vegetables
- onion
- garlic
- olive oil
- herbs and spices of your choosing.


One of our favourite combinations was a mixture of sweet potatoes, russet potatoes, orange and purple carrots, parsnips, a bulb of garlic, and golden beets. The vegetables were all chopped into cubes, then tossed in a baking dish with olive oil, salt, pepper, a bit thyme and a sprinkle of herbes de Provence. We then roasted them at 400F for nearly an hour until the vegetables were soft, the onions had caramelised, and people were lining up outside the house to find out what we were cooking to make the neighbourhood smell that good.


We have a few creative projects on the go right now, though our major focus is on Dispatch Ontario 2: the second edition is a paperback rather than hardcover, and is full of stories, poems, colouring pages, puzzles and more! Stay tuned for further updates, and have a gorgeous weekend.

The Harvest Begins!

Oh my goodness. Was our last blog post really in June?
That's utterly dreadful.
Please accept our wholehearted apologies for the neglect of this blog: we've both been swamped with workstuff and the like, and putting up new blog posts was a priority that was shoved down the list somewhere between sock-mending and defrosting the freezer.


We shall be posting on here with greater frequency henceforth, we promise!


In our last post, we mentioned that we had found a baby sparrow and were raising it by hand: the wee one is now nearly three months old, is officially a male, and thriving merrily. He lives in our bedroom, has made a couple of little nesting spots for himself around the room, and has developed a taste for cherries, bananas, mangoes, and almond biscotti. (What can we say? Our little boy has good taste.)


In more creative news, Nathaniel and I have created our first children's book! Written and illustrated as a gift for our niece Isabelle, Dispatch Ontario is a tribute to local fauna, architecture, folklore and fun, all geared for an audience aged four to seven. This is the first book in a planned series, and will be available for sale online in the very near future.

We're currently working on content for the next installation, so stay tuned for news on that front!


Now that August has arrived, we're starting to see the fruits of our labours in terms of the few edible plants we've nurtured in our little garden over the past couple of months, and from the looks of it, we'll soon be barraged by more cherry tomatoes than we know what to do with. The heirloom beans are coming in full swing, and our heritage squash and pumpkin plants are starting to flower too! Another trip to Urban Harvest will be in order soon to buy more seeds to keep in storage, and we're saving as many seeds as possible from our own garden. (Do you know how to collect and store tomato seeds, beans and the like? If you're at all interested, leave a comment below or email us directly, and we'll write a blog post on how to do so.)


I hope you're all taking the opportunity to visit your local farmers markets as often as possible to revel in all of the gorgeous food that's coming to full ripeness now. We're heading to Whittamore Farms this coming weekend with a group of friends so we can pick some of our own vegetables, and we've been relishing the produce that's available at the St. Lawrence Market as well. The other night, we had a lovely friend of ours over for supper, and Nathaniel baked what was quite possibly the best vegetarian lasagna I've ever had. Using only local, organic ingredients from The Sweet Potato, he created a multi-layered, gluten free paradise with eggplant, zucchini, sweet potatoes, his own secret tomato sauce, and an assortment of cheeses. Absolutely gorgeous.


Is there a particular recipe that you like to make as summer draws to a close? 

Parenting Passer domesticus.

And so it was that on a sunny spring day in May, Nathaniel and I found ourselves to be the foster-parents to a baby sparrow.

Around 3pm on May 28th, N and I were on our way home from a friend's house when we decided to take an alternate route back to the house, and as we walked along Dundas street east of Runnymede, we saw an older man standing very still, staring at something on the sidewalk.
We approached slowly to see what it was he was looking at, and discovered that it was a tiny baby bird--pink and transparent, probably just hours old (if that), flailing helplessly on the concrete.

I immediately scooped the little thing up into my hands to warm it and told the man that we would take it home with us. He said "ok" and wandered off, and we made our way home with this tiny, fragile little life cupped protectively in my palms. Once we got home, some research was needed to sort out what species it was and what its needs would be, and at once, care for the little house sparrow began.

("Robin", 3 days old)

It's a very surreal experience to hand-feed a pink, cheeping little creature every twenty minutes from sunrise to sunset, but to see the changes in this little life in so short a time span has been nothing shy of miraculous: within a week, the little one (whom we've named Robin, as we don't yet know its gender) has opened his/her eyes, began to sprout feather-stalks, and is starting to look more like a bird than a nugget of chewing gum with a beak on it.

We have discovered that s/he likes to be held in one hand and sung to sleep, that one type of chirp means s/he's hungry while a different tone means that s/he needs to poop, and that blackberries mashed into his/her meals makes for a very, very happy birdlet. As his/her eyes are now fully open, there's a great deal of looking around at the magical new world around his/herself, and the little pink tongue that flicks out to taste new foods is so cute that my heart nearly breaks every time I see it.

It is a very strange, very beautiful experience to parent something so tiny and fragile and helpless. I've cared for human babies since I was in my early teens, and though they're also small and delicate, there's a hardiness to human infants that is completely incomparable to this small little life. At first, s/he weighed less than an ounce, and was completely bare-skinned and blind: the most helpless, vulnerable life form I have ever encountered, and one that was entirely dependent on Nathaniel and I for everything, from regular feedings to encouragement to relieve itself.  Since then, s/he has doubled in size, changed colour, opened his/her eyes, and sprouted little spikes all over his/her body that are beginning to erupt into soft brown wisps of feather. It's now been 11 days since we found our little friend, and his/her personality has been developing more and more each day.


Despite all of the fears and neuroses about accidentally injuring or otherwise scarring the wee birdlet, this has been an incredible experience, and I am eternally grateful for this adventure in foster-parenting. Never would I have imagined that I'd be getting up at the crack of dawn to mash berries into baby bird food, or stroking a little head the size of my fingertip to calm the wee one to sleep. Among the many lessons I'm learning in this journey, I think one of the most important ones is absolute presence in the moment: for the first week of Robin's life, s/he was so fragile and vulnerable that the possibility of death was very probable. In fact, 98% of orphaned birds don't survive their first 48 hours, so it was with bated breath that we checked on the little one every morning to see if s/he'd lived through the night.

All of this is certainly a lesson in appreciating every moment and cherishing its sweetness. Robin has changed so much in the last week and a bit, and each change is an irreversible one: s/he will never be a blind, pink, squiggly thing again, nor will we ever re-live the moment when s/he opened his/her eyes and looked around at the world for the first time. Every sensation is a new one, and we get to live them through him/her--right down to the bliss s/he seems to feel when we blow on his/her little back and s/he spreads wings to catch the draft around them.
With any luck, this presence of mind will expand to other aspects of life, and we can spend more time in the moment, appreciating it fully, and seeing it for the beautiful, ephemeral wonder that it is.

(Super soft sparrow-kisses)

I've always had an incredible affinity with birds, particularly the wee ones like sparrows and wrens, and I think it's strangely (but wonderfully) poetic that I am learning so much from one that's now sharing its life with us. I am honoured to be part of its growing process, and beyond delighted at the magical set of random circumstances that brought Robin to us.

S/he is unbelievably special, and so, SO loved. 

Almost summertime!

I've been so swamped with workstuff lately that when I realised that it's been over two months since we last updated this blog, I was beyond appalled. I've gone from being in a place in my life where I was writing daily, to scribbling notes on scrap pieces of paper every couple of weeks when I have a spare moment to breathe here and there.
Balance: Trying to find it. 


Actually, it's the pursuit of balance that's my main focus these days -- balancing work and LIFE, play and promise, friend-time and solo introspection, etc.
Living here in our little fortress of calm and peace in the High Park/Junction area is certainly playing a huge role in finding a measure of tranquility that hasn't been present in other places we've lived. I've started running again (for the first time in six years...  eek!) and as I explore the neighbourhood more and more, I'm realising what a treasure High Park really is. In previous years, I might have only gone to the park for the cherry blossom festival and the occasional barbecue, but it's now less than a ten minute walk from my house, and I'm reveling in visits there as often as possible. The trails are great for running on, there's a labyrinth to walk, and the swans in Grenadier pond always make me smile.


I'm also planning to start taking yoga classes at Green Lavender: an eco store and yoga studio that's just up the street from us. Spring/summer always seems to shake me from my cold-weather lethargy and makes me want to bounce around and stretch and play, and I think I'll just "go with it".  *grin*

This area is also full of wildlife that I've never even heard of, let alone encountered anywhere in Toronto before. There are 4 different species of warbler that live in the trees in our front yard, and I've seen foxes, opossums, little red chipmunks and plants that are gorgeous beyond measure. Nathaniel and I seem to encounter new bird species almost daily, and when we cleared several years' worth of mulch in the garden, we unearthed bulbs and other wee green things that have turned into yards of lily of the valley, creeping ivy, hostas, and other wondrous plants. I've never had a garden quite so lush before, and we're taking full advantage of our surroundings by having meals outside on our patio and spending evenings out there, reading until the light fades.


Trying to find time to write when all I do is type all day is another matter. It's hard to be inspired to pour forth prose when one's days are filled with seemingly endless torrents of work-stress. Therein lies the challenge, neh?  Being able to leave work at work, and replenish the self afterward so that creativity can flow forth. At least when I leave work, I have a verdant, calming space to retreat to, a wonderful partner whom I love dearly, and a plethora of knitstuffs and books to soothe my soul.  Thank the gods for small pleasures.


I'm off for now: heading over to the home turf of Orange Nose Cakery to pick up my beloved's bithday cake. The owner, Farida, has made a custom, gluten-free marvel for us to indulge in, and I can't wait to try it!


Namaste.

Organically speaking

any of us talk about making healthier choices when it comes to the food we eat, but a great number of people are deterred by the thought that buying organic/free range food is more expensive, and that attaining said foods is an inconvenience (i.e. not all major chain grocery stores carry organic food, so people have to trek all the way to a "health food" store to get it, then have to wade through miles of hippies, etc).

Fortunately, this isn't always the case.

Here in Toronto, stores like Loblaw, FreshCo, Metro and Sobeys either have sections dedicated to organic and healthy alternative products, or have these types of foods interspersed with their regular stock. When I went shopping at one of these stores recently, I found quinoa and kamut pasta right there on the shelf next to the wheaty ones, and there were all manner of certified organic bits to be found all over the store.
That being said, I prefer to support smaller local stores than the large chain ones, but if this isn't an option in your area, you may be pleasantly surprised to find such products where you least expect to.

While some "health food" products may be a bit more expensive than others, many of them are at the same price point, if not lower (if you don't mind buying in bulk). For example, at many health food stores, buying a bag of organic granola that you've shoveled into a sack yourself is far cheaper than oh, let's say... a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal (which, though delicious, is also not the healthiest choice as far as foodstuffs go).

I'm of the belief that the long-term benefits of eating for one's health are worth a bit of investment. The old adage "you are what you eat" holds true, as food is medicine in its own right, and what we put into our bodies has a profound effect on how our bodies and minds function. If this means shelling out an extra dollar for produce that hasn't been sprayed with carcinogenic, environment-destroying chemicals, I'm all for it.


Last week, Nathaniel and I had the pleasure of receiving our first box of produce from Mama Earth Organics -- a Toronto company that connects those who live here with local organic growers by delivering farm-fresh produce and other products to our homes. My first bite into an organic apple made my toes curl with happy, and we both had similar reactions when we tasted the Boston lettuce, blood oranges and other bits of wonder. These raw ingredients were exquisite, and the dishes we cooked with them had depth of flavour that just cannot translate properly into words.

Organic produce reminds me of what food tasted like when it was freshly harvested from the garden when I was a child. I remember picking tomatoes for supper after they'd been basking in the sunshine all day, and that crisp burst of tomato scent that wafted with each freeing tug was a small delight in itself.
Most of us have grown so accustomed to the flavourless fruit and vegetables that are readily (and cheaply) available in our local supermarkets that we have either forgotten or, even more sadly, never experienced what these foods should actually taste like.


Toronto has several organic home-delivery services that not only distribute produce, but also organic baked goods, preserves, dairy and meat products, and other delectable tidbits. In addition to Mama Earth, there's also Green Earth Organics, Front Door Organics, and though you have to pick it up yourself rather than having it delivered to your door, FoodShare puts together an impressive Good Food box as well.

In this week's basket, we received ambrosia apples, navel oranges, fair-trade bananas, shallots, rainbow carrots, Boston lettuce, spinach, fennel, black kale, and snap peas. We've eaten the snap peas raw, but we have plans for the other ingredients:


- Kamut soba noodles with kale and broccoli in a garlic-ginger-sesame sauce
- Fennel, carrot and apple slaw with a yogurt dressing
and
- Spinach and white bean soup (minus the turkey)

At least one of the bananas will likely end up in a smoothie of some sort. *grin*


As we continue to explore this city and its surroundings, we'll be keeping our eyes open for all manner of sources for organic foodstuffs, as well as sources for seeds to be able to grow herbs and veggies in our home garden. This weekend will include a trip to The Sweet Potato ,a health food store near our place in the Junction, and I've reserved a few hours to curl up in the window seat with a cup of tea to read my Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening.


Have a gorgeous weekend!
Be well, walk in Beauty.

Pioneer quest?

KAY... not quite a "quest" per se, but certainly a delving.
Let me explain: Nathaniel and I have been compiling a list of some historical places around southern Ontario that we're planning to visit over the next few months, and one of the places on the list is Black Creek Pioneer Village. I haven't visited that place since seventh grade, and Sir N has never been, so there's a significant measure of excitement in experiencing everything there from an adult's perspective.


Many of my own interests are more than a little anachronistic, so this forthcoming venture into Pioneer-world has caused the creative juices to churn and squeak, and I've come up with a creative endeavor that's going to be shared with my dear friend Kel, a soul-sister who lives on the other side of the world in the wilds of Tasmania: we're both going to create natural dyes from the native plants and mordants of our own areas, and use them in some artsy projects!  I'm aiming to dye both cloth and wool, do some sewing, and use the spun thread to embroider embellishments on whatever it is I'll be making.
This is exciting! I've been doing some research about the plants that are indigenous to our area, and can't wait to experiment with the colours I'll be able to create from the different plant parts. Of course, I'll have to wait for the snow to melt and the plants to actually start -growing- before I can harvest most of them to start dyeing, but there are some components I'll be able to work with fairly early.

I should be able to create light greens from the leaves of new herbs, pinks from early strawberries and sumac flowers, yellows from onion skins, etc. What I'll be creating with all of these components will be a surprise, but I'm really, really looking forward to the process.

In that same anachronistic vein, Nathaniel and I are aiming to learn some of the other things our pioneering predecessors would have spent their time doing, including canning/preserving berries and other fruit, brewing our own beer or wine, making our own cheese/yoghurt, foraging for wild foods, and tending a garden full of indigenous vegetables and flowers.


Spring really is just around the corner: the March rains will quickly give way to April's green, and we'll be prepped and ready to go!

A new day dawns, and a new journey begins.

HEN last you heard from your dear intrepid adventurers, I'd had a complete meltdown over my inability to remember what non-local foods tasted like, and Nathaniel had gone completely AWOL because of various work responsibilities. That was six months ago, and needless to say, a great deal of change has happened since then.


We did manage to adhere to the 100 Mile Challenge until mid September, at which point we abandoned it with much gusto and curled up with bowls of awesomeness at Thai Elephant on Queen West. Digging into a bowl of padh thai after three months of having no exposure to any spices was almost transcendental: I'm not over-exaggerating when I say that I got teary-eyed as I ate, and I have a vague memory of Sir N cradling his bowl of green curry rather tenderly. It was quite an interesting experience in terms of basking in flavours we were no longer accustomed to -- without regular exposure to those spices and seasonings, our taste buds had become more acute, and we found that we had greater sensitivity to subtleties in the foods we'd been eating. While before the challenge, I might have huffed in a bowl of said padh thai without much thought (probably whilst reading a book), this meal was a symphony to my senses, and I think we spent as much time talking about what we were tasting, as eating the meal itself.


In November, we moved into a new apartment close to the High Park area, and have been making regular sojourns to check out this part of town. Never having lived around here, we're reveling in the artistry of the area's Arts and Crafts homes, and we're both drawing a lot of inspiration from our surroundings for our own art and writing practices.
Since we're so fond of delving into this city's history, we're currently in the process of compiling a list of historical places within 100 Miles of our town that we're interested in exploring (including the multitude of fascinating nooks around Toronto itself, of course!) and the 33 Leagues form York blog is evolving into a celebration of Toronto and its surroundings.


There will be postings from dear Sir N and myself on topics such as:


- The architecture and history of various buildings
- Gardens and wild spaces
- Farmer's markets (and recipes to go along with foods purchased at them!)
- Wild foods that can be foraged and whereabouts one can do so
- Native species, their habitats, and why we find them interesting
- Dates that have historical significance (and any festivals surrounding them)
- Various other happenings around Toronto that pique our curiosity
...and so much more.


So the new journey begins, and with it, a meal to launch this mighty ship.
It's far (FAR) from anything we would have eaten in our 100 Mile challenge, and I'm more than happy to celebrate that. In fact, I may light a candle in thanks to whoever established the spice trade to begin with.

Our repast this evening consisted of hand-made flour tortillas, black bean mash, pico de gallo, guacamole, plain 1% yogurt in lieu of sour cream, shredded old cheddar, and sliced limes. This was served with a side of corn bread, but it wasn't pretty enough to take a picture of.
Just imagine perfect, golden wedges of cumin-laced cornbread deliciousness.
Great, thanks!


I can't give any recipe measurements per se because neither Nathaniel nor I actually use recipes or measurements when we're cooking. I can tell you that I've found the most perfect cornbread recipe EVER, and will be using this for all future cornbread-ish endeavors.


There's a trick to making really exquisite pico de gallo as well: if you're like me in that you're not fond of having mouthfuls of raw onion to contend with, try mincing the onion very finely and allowing it to cure in lime juice for 10-15 min before adding in the tomatoes and cilantro. The sweetness of the onion will come through along with a subtle bite, but that manky, overpowering "onion-y-ness" won't assault your face or come back to haunt you later.
The hand-made tortillas are super easy as well: just flour and a bit of baking powder and salt mixed with a 50/50 solution of water and oil until it makes a roll-able dough. These are rolled out into flat rounds that are approximately 6 inches in diameter, then thrown onto a hot (ungreased!) pan on high heat,  and tossed around back and forth until the bubbly bits start to go brown. The oil content keeps them pliant so you can fill them with all manner of deliciousness and then roll the up for easy devourings.
*Note: For my own cornbread, I substitute unsweetened organic soy milk mixed with a tiny bit of water in lieu of cow's milk.


With the exception of the cheese and sour cream, this meal was completely vegan and could be made entirely so with the use of vegan sour cream and cheese alternatives. Since we're not vegan (as mentioned before, Nathaniel is lacto-ovo veggievore and I'm a "pescetarian") we revel in dairy delicacies rather often, but it's nice to know that we can tweak recipes so our vegan friends can indulge in the food we create as well.


More to come soon!  I'm now going to curl up with a lovely cup of PG Tips and a book, and wish you all a wondrous weekend.

Pity party.

hinge alert ahead: you've been forewarned.

See the woman.
See the woman with big hair.
See the woman with big hair sulking at her desk.
See the woman with big hair sulking at her desk and having a complete self-pity party because she can't remember what cinnamon tastes like.

BLOODY HELL this is hard.

It really hit me this week, and I don't mean in an epiphanic way, but rather in a manner more befitting the fairly crunchy experience of having a 2x4 smack into my cranium.

I'd mentioned in previous posts how much I've been missing tea, and it's gotten to the point where I find myself daydreaming about it. Is that pathetic? I find myself wandering through the spice aisles at stores, fondling cloves and star anise, and stroking vanilla beans in a manner that could almost be construed as inappropriate. Same goes for coffee, and I've never been much of a fan of that particular beverage.
Nathaniel caught me with my face half-buried in a can of coffee grounds, inhaling deeply in an attempt to fend of the gnawing cravings that are tearing through me, though I'll not go into further detail about that particular moment of depravity in an attempt to leave some small vestige of my dignity intact.

This is unbelievable.

Strangely enough, I'm not craving avocados as much as I thought I would... I am, however, craving lemons, chick peas, pepper, cinnamon (as mentioned), OLIVES, and pickled herring so strongly that it almost feels like I will wither and die without them.

(In regard to the herring, I'm more of a pescetarian than full fledged veggievore, and we Northern Euro folks have a bit of a penchant for pickled and smoked fish products. Be happy I'm not delving into the subtle wonders of Kalles Kaviar.)

We have 46 days and just a little over 8 hours left in this challenge, and I'm starting to wonder if I have the tenacity to get through it without having a complete breakdown. Should this really be such a trial? I mean, this is just a question of food preferences and personal likes/dislikes, right? We're eating AMAZING food, learning to forage, being super creative with our cooking, supporting local farmers, and certainly not going "without"... are we just so accustomed to the plethora of exotic ingredients that we've been fortunate enough to have that being without them actually makes us go through serious withdrawal?

All I know is that right now, right this very moment, far from being in a position where I am wholeheartedly lauding the merits and marvels of locavore life, I am going over menu options for September 21st. Samosas laden with cumin? Padh thai? Latvian sprats on toast? I haven't decided yet, but if I'm in the same state of mind then as I am now, I might just spend the day rolling around in the emptied contents of my spice cabinet, thanking whatever gods are out there for trade routes, and drinking a London Fog the size of my bathtub.

Zucchinis and peaches, oh my!

ell, well. It -has- been a while since we updated, hasn't it? Many apologies: we've both been a trifle swamped with work and whatnot, and haven't had much time to dedicate to blog writing. Nathaniel will be posting as soon as he's able to, and in the meantime I get to dominate the blogosphere with my flowery prose and pretty pictures. *grin*

It's been a little over a month since we've been on this locavore challenge, and while I was correct in assuming that things haven't gotten any easier per se, there have been some advances. For example, I no longer burst into tears when someone asks if I'd like a cup of tea... I just get a bit misty-eyed and quickly change the subject.

We've both also learned to be very creative in terms of our seasonings when cooking and baking. One thing I can certainly say is that there is a local company that has completely saved my sanity during this challenge: The Ewenity Dairy Cooperative. Located just outside Guelph, they create sheep milk products (including cheese, yoghurt, and ice cream), and not only are they some of the nicest people I have ever met, their products are gorgeous. Being vegetarians, it's been rather difficult to ensure that we're getting enough protein, so the ready availability of these amazing dairy treasures has been wonderful.

Also wonderful is the fact that this is the time of the season when most fruits and vegetables are at their peak of "goodness". Farmers' markets are starting to be inundated with peaches, pears, apples, currants and GROUND CHERRIES (personal favourites of mine, can you tell?) as well as various squashes and root veggies. I'm focusing on two in particular for this blog entry: the zucchini, and the peach.


Most people cringe when they think about zucchinis (aka "courgettes"), generally because they haven't had very good experiences with them. To be honest, my own exposure to this delightful vegetable was limited to the zucchini bread we'd receive from a friend of the family every summer when her garden was overrun, and though it was delicious in its own right, it really didn't do much to make me want to eat more of it.
Fortunately, I have a predilection for French cuisine, and one dish from the Provence region uses zucchini in a spectacularly gorgeous way: paired with eggplant, tomatoes, and herbs, zucchini is one of the primary ingredients in ratatouille.
When I make ratatouille, I don't follow a particular recipe. I use what I have in the house (in varying quantities), and just sort of throw it all together. I don't measure anything, so the "recipe" I'm about to share is more of a rough guideline -- should you choose to make your own version, you could try to find a classic one online, but I'm a strong proponent for making up your own creations on the fly.

In today's version, we have:

1 large eggplant, peeled and chopped
1 large yellow zucchini, chopped
1 large onion, diced
a few leaves of basil, shredded
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 medium tomatoes, chopped
local herb mixture similar to Herbes de Provence
Niagara balsamic vinegar
canola oil
maple syrup
salt
chipotle pepper puree (we brought back a can of chipotle peppers when we came back from California, and are using it very sparingly in various dishes. Will explain the use later).

Pour a fair bit of oil into a large pot and set it to medium heat. Once it warms, add the onions and toss until they begin to soften. Add the zucchini, eggplant, salt, and herbs, and toss around for about 5 min. Then add the tomatoes, and continue to cook on med-low heat until the tomatoes give up their juices. At this point, add a touch of balsamic vinegar, a tiny bit of maple syrup to cut the acidity of the tomatoes and vinegar, and if you're not on the 100 mile challenge, a fair bit of cracked pepper. Since I like spice, I used a little bit of the liquid that the chipotles created in their can to add a depth and richness of flavour to the dish, as well as a bit of a spicy "kick".


This is all left to simmer until the vegetables are so soft that your great grandmother could slurp them through her dentures. In the autumn, I serve the dish piping hot with a side of warm crusty bread and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Now, in summertime, this will be served cold.
I chill it in the fridge for 4-5 hours, serve with thinly sliced toast triangles, and a glass of Pinot Gris.

...and what of the peaches? you must be asking by now. WELL THEN.
The half-bushel of peaches I bought at the Dufferin Grove farmer's market has been put to very good use: Not only have I been eating them raw, but I baked a pie with them too!!

Baking on the 100 mile journey is a HUGE challenge, since we can't use most of the ingredients we're accustomed to having on hand. Sugar? Baking powder? Shortening? Nope. Sooo... we make do with what we can, being creative on levels I'd have never imagined. With this recipe as well, these are just rough estimates as I rarely measure out anything.
Crust:

2 1/4 cups flour (I used local spelt flour)
pinch of salt
maybe 1/3 cup butter?
ice water

Add a pinch of salt to the flour and add the butter bit by bit until the flour comes together into pea-sized blobs as you mix it with a pair of forks. Then add ice water a small spoonful at a time until the dough all sticks together, then wrap it up in plastic and stick it in the fridge for an hour. Do NOT work the dough with your hands!! The only way you get that flaky pastry crust is if you let the butter stay cold in the dough throughout the process.

Take 2/3 of the dough and roll it out between 2 pieces of waxed or parchment paper, and lay this into a buttered pie pan. Smooth it down to form the lower crust, and bake for 10 min. Remove from the oven and set aside


Filling:

7 or 8 peaches: pitted, and sliced thinly
2-3 tablespoons of maple syrup
1/4 tsp of grated fresh ginger
corn starch
Preheat the oven to 350F.
Put the sliced peaches in a bowl and let sit so that their juices flow out and get all soupy. Add the grated ginger, and a couple of tablespoons of corn starch to thicken the mixture. Stir well, and let sit for 5 min or so.

Fill the pre-baked lower crust with the peach filling.
Take the remaining dough and roll it out as previously, only this time you'll cut it into thin strips to create the lattice top. Alternately, if you're a lazy bum like I am, you can just lay down one set of strips and then cover them with strips in the opposite direction for a faux-lattice effect. Ha!
Once the lattice top is on, press the edges down, toss it in the oven and bake for approx 40 min, or until the crust has gone a gorgeous golden brown.


This isn't a terribly sweet pie, so if you're not doing the 100 mile challenge, feel free to sweeten it up by adding a couple of tablespoons of brown sugar, or pralines, or whatever other bits you think would be amazing in it. My dear friend LilyBelle would likely eat something like this with a massive dollop of vanilla ice cream, but for those of us who don't have a raging sweet tooth, the subtlety of peach, ginger, and maple is a rather lovely finish to a light summer meal.

Enjoy!

If you're going to San Francisco...

pologies for the delay in posting! We were in San Francisco for a week, and didn't have much of a change to squeeze a blog post in between visiting friends and exploring the city.

What of the 100 mile challenge, you ask? WELL. One aspect of the rule-book for the Challenge is that when you travel, you either take food from your local area with you, OR... you try to ensure that the food you're eating at your destination is as local as possible. Since we were in California, we had some of the freshest ingredients possible at our disposal, and we had the chance to enjoy some great food that we'd been missing terribly here in Toronto.

I had noticed how much my palate had changed in terms of being able to appreciate the nuances of flavour in the foods we cooked without them being slathered in spices, but to suddenly have exposure to items I'd normally taken for granted was mind boggling. I'd always loved avocados, but eating them again in SF was like an entirely new experience: there are intricate textures and flavours present in those gorgeous green fruits, and I had never taken the time to just sit down and appreciate every layer of them before.



LEMONS! I normally have half a dozen of them at the house at any given time, but after not having had them for a month, it was something truly special to have it freshly squeezed into a glass of water, or over an organic salad. I'd been using lemon balm or sorrel on occasion to get that lemony-sort-of-taste in food, but really? It just wasn't the same.


I loved so many things about San Francisco, but one of the aspects I appreciated the most was the abundance of fresh produce and really, really good vegetarian food.
We ate breakfast one day at a little Vegan restaurant called "Herbivore" on Valencia avenue:

http://www.herbivorerestaurant.com/index.html

I'd recommend this place to ANYONE who'll be visiting the Bay area, regardless of if you're a veggie-vore or not. The food was exquisite, the energy of the place was vibrant and welcoming, and the servers were sweet and friendly. Seriously, one of my favourite places I visited while we were there.

We were a bit spoiled in being able to diverge a little from local Canadian fare for a week, but we've returned just as eager and dedicated to this 100 Mile sojourn as before. Today I picked up some incredible blueberries, honey, tomatoes and potatoes from the Mel Lastman Square farmer's market, and will be heading back to the St. Lawrence Market this weekend for some additional ingredients.

Note: I'm afraid that I will personally have to make some amendments/allowances for my own part of the 100 mile journey: I've developed a wheat sensitivity, and since I can only eat so much barley, I'm re-introducing rice and quinoa into my meal planning. No, they're not local grains, but if allowances have to be made for health reasons, they are going to be organic and free-trade. Nathaniel will still be adhering to more stringent locavore guidelines, so the foreign 'contraband' will be limited to meals I make to take to work with me, etc.

Perfect perogies.

E must be insane.

Currently, it is 32 degrees Celsius in Toronto (42 with the humidex), and the city has issued an “extreme heat alert", warning folks to be careful not to overheat. Most people would react to such news by living on cheese sandwiches and cold fruit for a few days... but no. What did my dear Sir and I do this weekend? We made perogies. Nathaniel had never made them by hand before, and we were looking for something both interesting and scrumptious to prepare, so we braved the sweltering misery and put a couple of batches together!

Being part Ukrainian, I grew up making these little bundles of happiness: Every year around the holidays, my mother would prepare enough dough and various fillings to sink a galleon, and we'd spend several weeks stuffing and folding perogies to give to our relatives as gifts. We'd create every type imaginable, from the traditional potato and cheese or sauerkraut to wild mushroom with buckwheat, or sweet fillings like blueberry or cherry.
N and I happened upon a vendor at the St. Lawrence Market who sells red fife wheat flour and handmade pasta, so we picked up some flour from him and meandered around to see what sort of ingredients inspired us for filling stuffs. After discovering a charming seller of mushrooms in one far-off corner of the market, I bought a hearty bag full of button mushrooms as well as a handful of morels (!), and decided to add some leeks and potatoes into the mix.

Ok.
The trick when it comes to perogies is a light, elastic dough that isn't going to sit in your stomach like a rock when you eat it. Most people just use a mixture of flour and water, but there's a far more awesome dough to be used than that! This recipe was taken from a cookbook entitled Traditional Ukrainian Cookery, published in 1980. Page 205 has the recipe “Rich Dough for Varenyky (Pyrohy)", which is what I am transcribing below:
1/2 cup cold mashed potatoes
2 tablespoons shortening (or butter. I use butter.)
2 egg yolks
1/2 cup lukewarm water
1 3/4 cups flour
1 tsp cream of tartar (optional)
1 tsp salt
1/4 cup flour

Mix the first 3 ingredients thoroughly. Add the water and beat well. Sift 1 3/4 cups of flour with the cream of tartar and salt, and stir into the first mixture - this will form a very soft dough. Add 1/5 cup of flour in 2tbsp portions until the dough no longer sticks to the hand. The dough should be very soft. If some of the flour is left over, use it for flouring the board. Knead lightly, cover, and let stand for 10 minutes. Roll quite thin, cut into the desired shape, and form varenyky using any favourite filling.

I have no idea what the exact proportions were for the filling I made, so I'm just going to give a rough estimate: I julienned the whites of 2 leeks very, very finely, and sauteed them in butter with a chopped yellow onion and 2 large cloves of garlic, minced. When everything had gone soft and translucent, I tossed in the finely chopped mushrooms, stirred them around, added minced celery and flat-leaf parsley, deglazed with a generous swig of dry Riesling wine, and left it to simmer for about 10 min, stirring occasionally. While that bubbled away happily, I boiled a few russet potatoes until they were cooked through, then peeled and mashed them. The mushroom-leek mixture was added to the potato mash, and everything was mixed together thoroughly and seasoned with salt.*

It would be far too difficult to try to explain the perogy-stuffing technique properly on here, so what I would suggest is that you go on youtube and look for a video on how to stuff them properly: being able to watch someone do so is far more informative than trying to infer decent technique via text.



One thing I have to admit is that the red fife flour we used yielded a very different kind of perogy from what I have grown up with. I'm used to a very soft, silken dough made from all-purpose flour, and we ended up with something very hearty and grainy, with a nut-like flavour. They were still lovely, but I found them a bit more “mealy" than I generally prefer.

Once the perogies were well stuffed and set aside, we had to cook them! To do so, you bring a large pot of water to a roiling boil, and gently drop them in one by one, stirring with a wooden spoon to keep them from sticking together. NOTE: only use the HANDLE of the spoon to stir with, else you risk smashing into the rather delicate dumplings and splitting them open. After boiling for a couple of minutes, they will rise to the surface, thus indicating mostly-done-ness. Let them bob around for a few minutes more, and then remove them with a slotted spoon. At this point, you can either serve them as is, with melted butter, sour cream, or plain yoghurt, or you can give them a quick fry in oil or butter to crisp them up. We chose the latter, just toasting them lightly to brown their outsides a little.

We plated our little creations alongside an incredible salad Nathaniel made with arugula, mixed sprouts, halved yellow cherries, soft goat cheese, and organic local peanuts, dressed with a wine-cider vinaigrette and garlic croutons.

If you're going to attempt to make perogies, I'd highly recommend taking advantage of the plentiful fruit of the season and fill them with something like mascarpone and blueberries, or a strawberry-peach mixture. We also took full advantage of “summer's bounty" as it were, and went on a bit of a foraging spree: there are several mulberry bushes around the neighbourhood, so as we were on our way home, we gathered several of them for dessert.



For every one we gathered, I think we ate two or three straight from the tree, but we did manage to take a couple of good handfuls back with us. *grin*


The wine pairing for the evening was a Peller Estate Riesling.



*Between the pleadings of several of our friends with concern to our health and our own rampant dehydration, we have re-introduced small amounts of salt into our cooking.
With the few ingredients that may fall outside our 100 miles, we are adhering to the tenets adopted by most others who are following the 100 mile challenge: “If it's not local, it's organic. If it's not organic, then it's fair trade".

One week down, eleven to go...

full week has passed, and I have a sneaking suspicion that although things are not necessarily going to get easier from here on in, at the very least I'm starting to figure this locavore thing out a bit more.

For one thing, I'm learning that I have to plan my meals well in advance so I'm not standing hungrily in front of my fridge and trying to figure out what to throw together that evening. For example, while the barley pseudo-risotto made with sheep's milk feta and topped with a poached egg was lovely, I did not need to have it for dinner three days in a row: I really can't bear the thought of eating that again anytime soon. I am, however, rediscovering how much I love kale -- be it pan fried with just a bit of garlic or added to a potato-onion soup, it's one ingredient I have to explore a bit more, especially since it's so abundant at the farmer's markets around town.

I have to admit that I'm having a bit of difficulty with breakfast-y things, though.
Since I don't usually have much time in the mornings to cook, I've been making do with fruit, yoghurt, a muesli of sorts consisting of a handful of sunflower seeds, dried fruit and nuts, or a hard boiled egg for a bit of a protein bomb. What I'd like to find is a source of Ontario oats so I can either have oatmeal in the morning, or pre-bake some waffles to keep in the freezer. The guy who sells us fresh pasta at the St. Lawrence Market also sells locally-made flour, so I think I'll mix that with some oats, local soy milk, blueberries, and either maple or birch syrup into a rather large batch of waffle mix and make enough that I can freeze several of them for those mornings when I don't get up early enough to cook.

Ideally, the setting for this challenge would be one wherein I had the ability to spend my days tending a large garden and cooking for hours, rather than sitting at my desk and typing all day. It's difficult enough to cook/eat well when one is working full time (and commuting an hour each way!), but trying to do so with added constrictions is certainly proving to be one of the more challenging aspects of this challenge. That, and the chocolate cravings.

I cannot begin to describe the chocolate cravings.
...these too shall pass, right? RIGHT? Good.


There is a collection of recipes slowly growing in my notes, and I'm looking forward to both trying them out and sharing them with all of you. We have a picnic tentatively scheduled for Canada day, so we'll try to come up with some interesting foods to share with you that are picnic-friendly and super-delicious. I'm thinking of perhaps some kind of potato salad with plenty of herbs... maybe some mini sandwiches with cucumbers, mixed sprouts and local cheddar? Hmm.
Sometime this summer I'm going to try a local version of my grandmother's Gazpacho recipe, and I'd like to attempt hand-made herbed gnocchi at some point as well.

It's nice to document our explorations, and we really appreciate your feedback!
Thank you for all of the encouraging emails and texts you've sent so far: we really do enjoy all of your input, and you're being incredibly encouraging. There had been a glitch in our blog that prevented people from commenting, but that's been fixed now and we'd love to hear from you: Have you tried the recipes? Checked out some of the local vendors we've mentioned? Been inspired to eschew local eating entirely and devote yourself to a lifetime of papadums and emu burgers? Let us know!

G20 & the 33 League Challenge

adly, when going to stock up for another week of produce at the St. Lawrence Market, it seems the G20 summit, has deterred the usual vendors from setting up shop! I was hoping to load up on local, nuts, sprouts, eggs, flour, and such, but there were only 6-7 tables open. Looks like I'll have to wait until the Trinity Bellwoods Market to open to complete my order, and until then, the challenge, just got more challenging!

A Week's Reflection.

fter staying true to this Challenge for a week now, one thing I'm enjoying, is that it forces me to take the time to prepare my meals. I've been getting into the habit of cutting corners lately; eating out because I'm busy and it's more convenient to run across the street to nab a falafel instead of preparing a full dinner.

However, there aren't really any local options with the eateries along the strip, so I've got to be diligent with my food intake, making sure I've got enough fuel to last me through the day. A decent breakfast to get things going (no more coffees to get me into high gear), packed lunches and snacks too. Essentially, I'm eating the way I'd ideally like to because I don't have the option to be lax with my meals.

Overall, I've been impressed with the vitality and flavour of the foods I've been eating (despite the lack of salt and other seasonings) Everything being consumed is fresh from the farm; strawberries and tomatoes that actually taste like something, delicious cheeses, etc!

I'm still working out the kinks with my food purchases, to make sure I have the right balance of carbs and proteins to sustain me. Once I get over my caffeine withdrawal (the constant headaches, cloudy headedness and general lethargy have been dogging me for the last week), things should be on the up-and-up! Here's to looking forward to an exciting Summer!