As we shift into the cooler days of September, the students are arriving at the University of Toronto (just up the street) and streaming around in flotillas, some bewildered-looking, others trying to be cool... There are cars pulled up to the curb by the various residences, harried or puzzled-looking parents and spacey-looking kids unloading crates and bundles of possessions, while frosh leaders in coloured T-shirts call out info and try to direct traffic.
This annual renewal of optimism and fresh-start enthusiasm is a wonderful sight to see. I feel so lucky to live near the university, so that I am immersed in it every time I step outside. The buzz will continue for three weeks, as the new students get their feet wet so to speak. Soon they'll become accustomed to it all, cool, maybe even jaded!
I've had a great transition this week, from working on last recipe tests and retests, to actually sending the re-dos in to Judith the copy editor. Now to fill the last holes in the Glossary. There's Buddhism for example, a large topic, you'll agree. I want to give a sense of what it's about, and make a place for it in the Burma context, all while trying not to sound trite or glib. hmm And then there are the technique questions: how much to put in about deep-frying? or cooking in a double-boiler? for example.
As this stage relinquishes its grip, I am trying to get ready for the next, which is the check-the-copy-edited ms crunch. It will start in about a week. I'll have three weeks or so to get it done. In the middle of that I'm heading to Glen's Fall's New York to give a talk (on September 29, at the Crandall Public Library, if any of you live nearish-by and are interested). I need to pull my talk together, as well as images, slides they'll be, and mostly about rice, that great staple and social organiser. To grow rice with irrigation requires, when there is little or no mechanisation, a strong social organisation. People have to maintain ditches and terraces and work co-operatively. Bali is a great example of rice landscape, both physical landscapes and the social landscapes that underpin it all.
I had supper with three remarkable women on Saturday night, a last-minute assembling of a visitor, a returning friend, and two of us who've been here the whole time. We sat out in the warm night air and ate and drank and talked and laughed...losing complete track of the time. And then, amazingly, another version of the same scenario happened the next afternoon. I was at lunch at a friend's place, four women again, all of us in food in some way, with long knowledge of each other but not necessarily close friendship. And again, in the humid warm air, we ate well and drank wine and were present to each other.
I love those sorts of meals that become ships or train compartments, worlds unto themselves. And now I go back to each of them in my mind's eye and do what I like to do with old perfume bottles: lift out the stopper and have a transporting sniff, or equivalent, that takes me right back.
Labour Day is for not-work, but I spent it retesting recipes; this time my success rate was 100%, a nice change! I am particularly pleased with the steamed savory rice crepes, and a tapioca pudding with coconut cream custard on top; both of them took many tries. Tashi was great about eating sample, but it was a little gruelling, even with a guinea pig taster! Neither of them is difficult to make. The problem for me is figuring out proportions and technique, and now it's done.
I kept the computer turned off all Labour Day, for a total of thirty-six hours, until this morning in fact. It was interesting to realise how much time I put in here at the screen, looking at messages and responding, looking at Tweets and clicking on the links they throw up, etc etc. It's all part of the environment these days that is so distracting; I wrote at length about it last week.
The result of my lovely long encounters with friends together with my thirty-six hours without email or other computer connection, is that I now know I want to take a computer and internet holiday once a week, at a minimum. It will help keep my head clear I think, able to work steadily at one idea. Today my Glossary task was Buddhism and also a scattering of new entries I am discovering I need in the Glossary. I love the feeling of productivity when I can sit and engage with a task unstintingly. But then that's what life is all about, that's when we feel at our most alive: when we're deeply engaged and committed.
Showing posts with label Toronto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toronto. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Saturday, October 2, 2010
NUIT BLANCHE BRINGS US TO LIFE
It's quiet in the city at 5 am, even here by the university and the downtown. But tonight it won't be. From seven this evening until seven tomorrow morning it's Nuit Blanche in Toronto. That means the downtown and uptown streets will be thronged with people looking at, and looking for, art events, performances, happenings.
There's a Nuit Blanche guide online, with maps and explanations, numbered dots for each piece or performance or art event. But there are always a lot of unofficial happenings that "erupt" too; finding them is a matter of luck. In the last few days all around the city I imagine there have been conversations like the ones I've had with friends: what are you aiming to get to at Nuit Blanche? or "what have you heard is a must-see?" or "I'm going to ask my artist friend w hat she's heard about".
The buzz is fun, and I've found in the past that there are treasures of various kinds of insight, and just wondrous sights, to be discovered and experienced. But best of all I think is the energy, the feeling that this is one giant performance, that we are all, the more-than-a-million people who come out for it, performers in a giant happening. I love looking at people's faces as they come on say a wonderful video installation or an amazing street performance or as they wander, a little dazed, at two in the morning. The streetcars (trams is the word outsiders might use) run all night on the main east-west streets, connecting some outlying pockets of intense Nuit Blanche activity to the downtown. And those streetcars will be crowded and full of conversations, rather like those at the film festival: "did you see the one where...?"
Like many ambitious multi-strand human efforts, it all becomes a metaphor for life and living. There are the serendipitously discovered wonders that thrill; the pieces on the event map that I head to purposely and that are either as great as I hoped or a disappointment; there are the chance encounters with friends and with strangers in the crowd; I overhear snatches of conversation but catch only the middle of the story, not the end or the beginning; and I am propelled by a need to keep moving, to try to take it all in, to not miss a thing, even though I know there's a lot I will not see, for it's impossible to encompass it all.
By moving around effortfully and ambitiously, I will feel I've given it my best, but another form of participation would be to just hang out in one place where several things are going on/being performed, and watch people's reactions, watch my own changing understanding of the crowd, the performances, the event. It's a good idea, but I just can't do it. I am driven, as I am in life, with the urge to connect to, have a glimpse of, try to understand, as much of what is going on as possible...
And afterward, tomorrow as I'm making ChocoSol chocolate chocolate-filled flatbreads for the Slow Foods picnic, and through the coming weeks, I expect that images and sensations from this Nuit Blanche will be replaying in my mind's eye, reverberating, growing and changing.
Nuit Blanche goes on after dawn arrives. The images projected on buildings get shut off, the performance artists wend wearily home, but the energy and the ideas embodied in the strong pieces go on resonating in our imaginations, warming us and stretching us.
And for food? A solid early supper, probably Thai grilled beef salad, for the friends that will be dropping by, and sticky rice, and I don't know what else. Then plenty of bread and cheese and cake to snack on when i and they drop back in occasionally through the night. The other part of the instructions is of course to wear comfortable shoes, I wear my running shoes, and layered clothing, for inside places can be hot but outside there are light showers and cool temps.
here we go!!!
There's a Nuit Blanche guide online, with maps and explanations, numbered dots for each piece or performance or art event. But there are always a lot of unofficial happenings that "erupt" too; finding them is a matter of luck. In the last few days all around the city I imagine there have been conversations like the ones I've had with friends: what are you aiming to get to at Nuit Blanche? or "what have you heard is a must-see?" or "I'm going to ask my artist friend w hat she's heard about".
The buzz is fun, and I've found in the past that there are treasures of various kinds of insight, and just wondrous sights, to be discovered and experienced. But best of all I think is the energy, the feeling that this is one giant performance, that we are all, the more-than-a-million people who come out for it, performers in a giant happening. I love looking at people's faces as they come on say a wonderful video installation or an amazing street performance or as they wander, a little dazed, at two in the morning. The streetcars (trams is the word outsiders might use) run all night on the main east-west streets, connecting some outlying pockets of intense Nuit Blanche activity to the downtown. And those streetcars will be crowded and full of conversations, rather like those at the film festival: "did you see the one where...?"
Like many ambitious multi-strand human efforts, it all becomes a metaphor for life and living. There are the serendipitously discovered wonders that thrill; the pieces on the event map that I head to purposely and that are either as great as I hoped or a disappointment; there are the chance encounters with friends and with strangers in the crowd; I overhear snatches of conversation but catch only the middle of the story, not the end or the beginning; and I am propelled by a need to keep moving, to try to take it all in, to not miss a thing, even though I know there's a lot I will not see, for it's impossible to encompass it all.
By moving around effortfully and ambitiously, I will feel I've given it my best, but another form of participation would be to just hang out in one place where several things are going on/being performed, and watch people's reactions, watch my own changing understanding of the crowd, the performances, the event. It's a good idea, but I just can't do it. I am driven, as I am in life, with the urge to connect to, have a glimpse of, try to understand, as much of what is going on as possible...
And afterward, tomorrow as I'm making ChocoSol chocolate chocolate-filled flatbreads for the Slow Foods picnic, and through the coming weeks, I expect that images and sensations from this Nuit Blanche will be replaying in my mind's eye, reverberating, growing and changing.
Nuit Blanche goes on after dawn arrives. The images projected on buildings get shut off, the performance artists wend wearily home, but the energy and the ideas embodied in the strong pieces go on resonating in our imaginations, warming us and stretching us.
And for food? A solid early supper, probably Thai grilled beef salad, for the friends that will be dropping by, and sticky rice, and I don't know what else. Then plenty of bread and cheese and cake to snack on when i and they drop back in occasionally through the night. The other part of the instructions is of course to wear comfortable shoes, I wear my running shoes, and layered clothing, for inside places can be hot but outside there are light showers and cool temps.
here we go!!!
Friday, June 25, 2010
IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO KEEP A VILLAGE BREATHING FREELY
It's cool and clear out, on this morning of Friday June 25. The birds are singing. But these are not normal days, whatever the birdsong sounds like! We had an earthquake a few days ago, surprising shaking in the middle of the day. Was it the washing machine shaking the house? I wondered...since we tend to look for normal explanations first I gather. Others thought of explosions or bombs as an explanation and listened for the police to respond. That's because of the heightened atmosphere of fear and suspicion here these days. Pretty wild. Here's why.
The city is very empty, emptied out is what it feels like, because of the "guys with guns" thing (AKA the G-20 meeting and the attendant security) going on downtown. The police are walking around in posses and asking people what they are doing downtown, or asking for ID. I feel like the city has been stolen. The university is closed, with cement barriers blocking the access roads. It's pretty creepy, as if this "lockdown" means we're not allowed to think and not supposed to act either. There are still protests planned and 'counter G-20' talks and conferences around environmental, economic, health, etc etc issues, but the public life of the city has been chilled, and each of us who lives here is feeling the cold blast.
What to do? Most people's instinct when we see uniformed police is to feel anxious. And when we feel anxious we hesitate to hold our heads high and to think freely. We shrink and reduce ourselves. What's the corrective?
I have one good friend who takes a clear line, forcefully, to counteract those instinctive flinchings. She says, the police are my employees, I pay their salary. So I greet them cheerily and chat to them and get them to engage with me. And she does. I do too, but never remember that they are employees. I just do it to remind them that we are all citizens together and to get them to not feel afreaid. If the police get into an "us and them" feeling or dynamic with citizens, then we are all in danger. The danger is physical sometimes, given the noise canons and bullets and other weapons the security forces have, and it's political and social and cultural. I do not want this police-state vibe to become a pattern that recurs or that sticks around after the G-20 is over. Our job is to prevent anyone being damaged or alienated or radicalized by it.
Hard not to be alienated when the police are given last-minute special powers of search and arrest; when foreign security forces here to guard foreign heads of state etc are being permitted to arm themselves as they please; when schools are closed at short notice with no provision made for children; when public institutions are closed and the city's civic and civil life brought to a standstill with no consultation or compensation for the people on the ground.
Yes, I know I'm ranting. Sorry! But it's hard to remember what normal feels like right now. We expect eighty (!!!) motorcades to come into the city today. No wonder people are staying off the roads, those who can!
This state of lockdown is nothing compared to the daily seige in Gaza or the lockdown in many totalitarian states, where individual rights count for nothing. We are just getting a tiny taste. It should be sobering. It's a life lesson of sorts. So we need to hold our heads high, remember how lucky we are to be able to complain and feel entitled to complain and protest, and we need to remember those who don't have our freedom, remember them as individuals struggling each day to live with dignity. If it's hard for us here to not feel intimidated by the police presence etc, imagine what it's like where the police have absolute power always. And then pause to admire the people living with that, who still manage to speak out against injustices or assert rights.
Anyone reading this in the Toronto area, do please come into the city centre, use public transport or a bicycle, and walk the streets and eat at the eateries and shop in the markets and talk to your fellow citizens. It takes a village to make a village!
While you're in the middle of town, you'll notice that many of the trees in the Annex and the university and downtown have splotchy sidewalks around them: It's mulberry season, and this year the mulberry trees are dripping with fruit. What a treat. Occasionally you'll also see ripe cherries, but those are usually on someone's property, not fair game. The mulberries on the other hand are most often streetside. And now that there's no spraying, all they need is a quick rinse-off (though I'm often too impatient even for that). The best time to pick and eat is right after a rain, of course...
POSTSCRIPT: My sliced fingertips are healing, thanks, though still fragile. I heard of two other finger/hand injuries from friends, so I'm hoping it stops at the traditional three: Lillian sliced her pinky-finger tendon right through when it caught in the laundry line pulley. A moment of inattention in a rush to grab laundry when it started to rain and there she was. Horrible! It took general anaesthetic and a surgeon to stitch it back together. And another friend sliced herself deeply, on what? she doesn't know, broken glass perhaps? as she was washing dishes. Three domestic situations: veg prep, laundry, washing up; and three hurting injuries. Time out please!!
The city is very empty, emptied out is what it feels like, because of the "guys with guns" thing (AKA the G-20 meeting and the attendant security) going on downtown. The police are walking around in posses and asking people what they are doing downtown, or asking for ID. I feel like the city has been stolen. The university is closed, with cement barriers blocking the access roads. It's pretty creepy, as if this "lockdown" means we're not allowed to think and not supposed to act either. There are still protests planned and 'counter G-20' talks and conferences around environmental, economic, health, etc etc issues, but the public life of the city has been chilled, and each of us who lives here is feeling the cold blast.
What to do? Most people's instinct when we see uniformed police is to feel anxious. And when we feel anxious we hesitate to hold our heads high and to think freely. We shrink and reduce ourselves. What's the corrective?
I have one good friend who takes a clear line, forcefully, to counteract those instinctive flinchings. She says, the police are my employees, I pay their salary. So I greet them cheerily and chat to them and get them to engage with me. And she does. I do too, but never remember that they are employees. I just do it to remind them that we are all citizens together and to get them to not feel afreaid. If the police get into an "us and them" feeling or dynamic with citizens, then we are all in danger. The danger is physical sometimes, given the noise canons and bullets and other weapons the security forces have, and it's political and social and cultural. I do not want this police-state vibe to become a pattern that recurs or that sticks around after the G-20 is over. Our job is to prevent anyone being damaged or alienated or radicalized by it.
Hard not to be alienated when the police are given last-minute special powers of search and arrest; when foreign security forces here to guard foreign heads of state etc are being permitted to arm themselves as they please; when schools are closed at short notice with no provision made for children; when public institutions are closed and the city's civic and civil life brought to a standstill with no consultation or compensation for the people on the ground.
Yes, I know I'm ranting. Sorry! But it's hard to remember what normal feels like right now. We expect eighty (!!!) motorcades to come into the city today. No wonder people are staying off the roads, those who can!
This state of lockdown is nothing compared to the daily seige in Gaza or the lockdown in many totalitarian states, where individual rights count for nothing. We are just getting a tiny taste. It should be sobering. It's a life lesson of sorts. So we need to hold our heads high, remember how lucky we are to be able to complain and feel entitled to complain and protest, and we need to remember those who don't have our freedom, remember them as individuals struggling each day to live with dignity. If it's hard for us here to not feel intimidated by the police presence etc, imagine what it's like where the police have absolute power always. And then pause to admire the people living with that, who still manage to speak out against injustices or assert rights.
Anyone reading this in the Toronto area, do please come into the city centre, use public transport or a bicycle, and walk the streets and eat at the eateries and shop in the markets and talk to your fellow citizens. It takes a village to make a village!
While you're in the middle of town, you'll notice that many of the trees in the Annex and the university and downtown have splotchy sidewalks around them: It's mulberry season, and this year the mulberry trees are dripping with fruit. What a treat. Occasionally you'll also see ripe cherries, but those are usually on someone's property, not fair game. The mulberries on the other hand are most often streetside. And now that there's no spraying, all they need is a quick rinse-off (though I'm often too impatient even for that). The best time to pick and eat is right after a rain, of course...
POSTSCRIPT: My sliced fingertips are healing, thanks, though still fragile. I heard of two other finger/hand injuries from friends, so I'm hoping it stops at the traditional three: Lillian sliced her pinky-finger tendon right through when it caught in the laundry line pulley. A moment of inattention in a rush to grab laundry when it started to rain and there she was. Horrible! It took general anaesthetic and a surgeon to stitch it back together. And another friend sliced herself deeply, on what? she doesn't know, broken glass perhaps? as she was washing dishes. Three domestic situations: veg prep, laundry, washing up; and three hurting injuries. Time out please!!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
CLEANSING COLD, AND WARMING LOCAL TRAVELS
The bite of cold winds is back. This changeable March can be hard to live with - driving us crazy with its fickle weather. I am glad of this short sharp cold spell though, because I discovered a small moth invasion upstairs last week. The freezing cold outside gives me a chance to put out rugs and other woolens so that the moths get frozen out. Fingers crossed! The dread sign of a moth fluttering lazily past is such an alarm bell for me. Too many moth holes in favorite sweaters over the years have made me alert and edgy about moths. Do you have any other moth-fighting ideas to pass on?
So perhaps I'm a perpetual Polyanna, but in this case I have cause for being "glad glad glad" about the mean-feeling cold of late March.
Last night I feasted, at the house of friends, on the most delicious sauerkraut ever. It was made Latvian-style by H, slow-cooked with apple before being combined with various delicious versions of pork, all of it served, steaming and aromatic, with simple boiled potatoes. I felt greedy greedy and ate until I could fit in no more. There's another good reason for feeling glad of the cold spell: it made the sauerkraut even more warming and necessary and right!
Random thoughts from the week:
Have a look at the latest book by Joseph Heath (a philosophy prof at U of Toronto whom my kids like a lot), called Filthy Lucre. There are interesting insights and a wide and disciplined discussion and critique of many of the political and economic ideas and policy arguments made by both the right and the left. It's well-written, and very engaging, too.
Check out, if you haven't already, the food journalism site ZesterDaily.com There are a lot of good writers and serious food journalists now contributing to it. As the pages of local and national papers shrink and food editors and writers all over arelooking for other avenues, they are turning to writing online. Some of us just blog quietly in our little corners, but some are more ambitious and disciplined. ZesterDaily is the product of just such hard work and dedication.
For people in Toronto and area: I found myself on Donlands just south of O'Connor this week... and stumbled on a place that has been around forever, apparently. It's a large Greek bakery called the Select, with baklava and kadaif and all their relations in amazing array, as well as a huge choice of feta cheeses, other Greek cheese, and some delicious fresh-tasting olives. Other treats include frozen moussaka which a friend of mine says makes great food for a crowd, unctuous and full of all the right stuff. Across the street is a place called Fresh from the Farm, with Amish and Mennonite products, from grass-fed meats (pork, beef, lamb) to pears and peaches in glass jars, home-made. Worth a repeat visit, for sure.
That chance to explore new areas of town was a reminder that I don't do enough of it. Being a traveller in your own city or region of countryside is a great opportunity to see things with fresh eyes and appreciatively.
The other day a friend was in from out of town and said "no argument" that she was taking me out for a meal. it was a Sunday and so our choices were narrowed. We went, on Dawnthebaker's recommendation, to the Black Hoof, a new bar-restaurant on Dundas Street West. It reminded me of a cocktail bar in New York, the new ones that are springing up in the lower East Side. But at Black Hoof the emphasis is on the food as well as the drink. They do a wide range of clean-tasting and delicious charcuterie, a brilliant tongue sandwich (presented finely sliced like smoked meat), and the cocktails are very very special. I have only tasted the one, so I am generalising about the others based on what other people have told me. Mine was gin (plain old Beefeaters) with a little lovage (a hint of celery taste) and lavender and lemon and I don't remember what else, sorry!. It was not sweet, just somehow perfect... Jen, the mistress of cocktails, is a co-owner. We sat at the bar and felt brilliantly cared for. Her wine advice was generous and right on too.
And finally, on local stuff, the new butcher in Kensington Market, who has taken over the spot long occupied by Max the kosher butcher (who sold up and retired), is called Sanagan's. What a treat to have locally sourced meat at reasonable prices, knowledgeably presented. Bring on the new wave of food producers and purveyors!
I promise this blog will not become a restaurant review spot, nor focussed on out-and-about-in-Toronto kinds of topics, but on a cold day, with no large thoughts in mind except how to will myself to get my tax paperwork done, I have ended up here. Hope you don't mind...
And finally, here we are almost at full moon again. The fattening moon was bright and high in the clear blue sky last night just after sunset as I walked to that sauerkraut feast. This week brings Passover and both Western and Orthodox holy weeks, with Easter as the huge punctuation mark next weekend. I'm going tomorrow to help Dawnthebaker make some matzoh (not kosher for Passover, but made attentively and with love for friends with a relaxed seder table), using Red Fife wheat . We'll make some spelt ones too, and we'll be working in her apartment kitchen.
I love working with friends to make seasonal food or food for a party. Collegial collaboration is so warming and energising!
So perhaps I'm a perpetual Polyanna, but in this case I have cause for being "glad glad glad" about the mean-feeling cold of late March.
Last night I feasted, at the house of friends, on the most delicious sauerkraut ever. It was made Latvian-style by H, slow-cooked with apple before being combined with various delicious versions of pork, all of it served, steaming and aromatic, with simple boiled potatoes. I felt greedy greedy and ate until I could fit in no more. There's another good reason for feeling glad of the cold spell: it made the sauerkraut even more warming and necessary and right!
Random thoughts from the week:
Have a look at the latest book by Joseph Heath (a philosophy prof at U of Toronto whom my kids like a lot), called Filthy Lucre. There are interesting insights and a wide and disciplined discussion and critique of many of the political and economic ideas and policy arguments made by both the right and the left. It's well-written, and very engaging, too.
Check out, if you haven't already, the food journalism site ZesterDaily.com There are a lot of good writers and serious food journalists now contributing to it. As the pages of local and national papers shrink and food editors and writers all over arelooking for other avenues, they are turning to writing online. Some of us just blog quietly in our little corners, but some are more ambitious and disciplined. ZesterDaily is the product of just such hard work and dedication.
For people in Toronto and area: I found myself on Donlands just south of O'Connor this week... and stumbled on a place that has been around forever, apparently. It's a large Greek bakery called the Select, with baklava and kadaif and all their relations in amazing array, as well as a huge choice of feta cheeses, other Greek cheese, and some delicious fresh-tasting olives. Other treats include frozen moussaka which a friend of mine says makes great food for a crowd, unctuous and full of all the right stuff. Across the street is a place called Fresh from the Farm, with Amish and Mennonite products, from grass-fed meats (pork, beef, lamb) to pears and peaches in glass jars, home-made. Worth a repeat visit, for sure.
That chance to explore new areas of town was a reminder that I don't do enough of it. Being a traveller in your own city or region of countryside is a great opportunity to see things with fresh eyes and appreciatively.
The other day a friend was in from out of town and said "no argument" that she was taking me out for a meal. it was a Sunday and so our choices were narrowed. We went, on Dawnthebaker's recommendation, to the Black Hoof, a new bar-restaurant on Dundas Street West. It reminded me of a cocktail bar in New York, the new ones that are springing up in the lower East Side. But at Black Hoof the emphasis is on the food as well as the drink. They do a wide range of clean-tasting and delicious charcuterie, a brilliant tongue sandwich (presented finely sliced like smoked meat), and the cocktails are very very special. I have only tasted the one, so I am generalising about the others based on what other people have told me. Mine was gin (plain old Beefeaters) with a little lovage (a hint of celery taste) and lavender and lemon and I don't remember what else, sorry!. It was not sweet, just somehow perfect... Jen, the mistress of cocktails, is a co-owner. We sat at the bar and felt brilliantly cared for. Her wine advice was generous and right on too.
And finally, on local stuff, the new butcher in Kensington Market, who has taken over the spot long occupied by Max the kosher butcher (who sold up and retired), is called Sanagan's. What a treat to have locally sourced meat at reasonable prices, knowledgeably presented. Bring on the new wave of food producers and purveyors!
I promise this blog will not become a restaurant review spot, nor focussed on out-and-about-in-Toronto kinds of topics, but on a cold day, with no large thoughts in mind except how to will myself to get my tax paperwork done, I have ended up here. Hope you don't mind...
And finally, here we are almost at full moon again. The fattening moon was bright and high in the clear blue sky last night just after sunset as I walked to that sauerkraut feast. This week brings Passover and both Western and Orthodox holy weeks, with Easter as the huge punctuation mark next weekend. I'm going tomorrow to help Dawnthebaker make some matzoh (not kosher for Passover, but made attentively and with love for friends with a relaxed seder table), using Red Fife wheat . We'll make some spelt ones too, and we'll be working in her apartment kitchen.
I love working with friends to make seasonal food or food for a party. Collegial collaboration is so warming and energising!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
ENGAGING WITH THE WORLD AT HOME
Heat at last, promised for today and tomorrow, hurrah! I was up in Grey County on the weekend, and only two nights ago there was frost, and then gleaming frosted grasses in the early morning, until the sun reached them and turned them bright green again. Perhaps with the promised heat, the basil plants that are shivering here in the back garden will at last start to thrive. Can't wait!
Our young friend Melissa is here from Chiang Mai visiting for several months. She is a great addition to the household. And she's wide-eyed out in the city, amazed at chilly rain (rain in Thailand comes after hot season, so it's far from the European style chilly spring rains we have had this month); at the tulips, now finishing, and glorious flowering trees of May (the ornamental plums in King's College Circle at the University of Toronto, just up the street, are in full magnificent deep pink bloom right now); at the pleasure of treasure-hunting for used clothing, in shops and in friends' piles of cast-offs...
We are delighted Melissa is here, for we get to see everything freshly through her eyes. And I love coming across pink (pink shoes, pink computer cover, pink socks, etc) in the house. Pink is usually in short supply in this household of male people. It feels like another kind of springtime.
May has also brought a nice surprise: we are one of the entries in the wide-ranging list of "Fifty Things We Love About Toronto" that is the cover story in the May issue of Toronto Life magazine. For the magazine there's a nice cross-connect between our books' exploration of food cultures in ASia and elsewhere, and the food cultures in Toronto.
I've always felt so lucky to live here, and one huge reason is the richness of the culture here, multi-layered, and constantly evolving. Of course that complexity and creativity is echoed in the food culture, which means I am always a beginner, always coming across foods I don't know in my local Chinese and Vietnamese groceries, or in the Ethiopian store in Kensington Market, or the South American stores along Augusta. All those are within ten minutes' walk of the house. It's hard to feel a need to go further afield, but when I do, to say, the wonderful Tamil shops along Parliament, I find lots of familiar produce and products, and again, also often feel like a beginner, ignorant of so much that is there. (And notice that I haven't even mentioned, let alone described, the extraordinary food culture maps of the inner and outer suburbs here.)
What a luxury, to be reminded every day of how much there is to understand and of how little I still know. And how lucky to be able to learn every day from my neighbours!
So it's not just Melissa who is walking around amazed and pleased in Toronto...
PS A friend I ran into the other day at Wychwood Market (Saturday mornings near Christie and St Clair) told me she and her family had been very sick after eating undercooked (they wanted them crunchy) fiddleheads. Then they googled and it turns out that the Ministry of Health says we should all know that fiddleheads must be cooked through (steam them, cook them in a little boiling water...). So resist the impulse make them al dente. Save that for carrots or broccoli or zucchini.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
