What a MIghty Fine Man.

Thanksgiving has been and gone, and it was delightful. I'm big on Thanksgiving and family. In fact, I think I cried more my fist Thanksgiving alone than I did my first Christmas alone!

This year was a good year, lots, if not all of my family and LOTS of food. Food I didn't have to make! Well, except dessert that is. I'll be making pie at Thanksgiving until I'm in my grave. Hopefully!


Sidenote: in my family you it's either pumpkin pie, or pumpkin pumpkin pie. What's the difference? Pumpkin pumpkin pie is actually made with pumpkins. Pumpkin pie is made with any squash except pumpkin. Banana, butternut, acorn. Just some type of winter squash. The weird naming started with making "winter squash pie" and listening to The Boy try to convince a friend that it was totally pumpkin pie, just without the pumpkins. His friend distrusted the lack of orange he was familiar with, and I think he wasn't even sure there WERE other types of squash out there! So as both my babies grew older, if they wanted to know what was in the pie they would ask if it was pumpkin pumpkin pie, or the more usual pumpkin (aka winter squash) pie. There, Sidenote over.

This year I made the best pumpkin pie filling I've ever made. And you know how? Because someone else did the hard stuff. I usually halve the squash and roast it. And even with lots of processing, the texture isn't always perfect. This time, I had a headache on Saturday morning, and while I was trying to get rid of it, The Man (well, I can't call him The Boy now, can I?) peeled, cored, cubed and boiled the squash. I HATE that part of the whole procedure, and by the time I was feeling better it was all over. No, I didn't plan it that way. I don't hate it THAT much; calling in sick to avoid peeling and cubing? Who would do that?

When I was ready to make the pie, I put the now-cooled squash through a food mill. Twice. Once with the large disc, and once with the fine. And then (because I couldn't just leave it at that) when I'd mixed in all the other ingredients I put everything through a triple strainer. Perfection. Creamy pumpkiny spicy goodness.

Rather Fail with Honour than Succeed by Fraud

This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while. A situation at work started the train of thought, but in the last two years I’ve witnessed similar incidents a number of times, both personal and professional. I’m talking about honour. I know; it’s one of those things that we don’t seem to talk about, along with duty and respect and common courtesy. Recently I’ve even heard (first hand as well so it’s not just unsubstantiated rumour) people boast about not keeping their word. A verbal agreement that they’ve reneged on, to their benefit, and they’re proud of it! What happened to the days when one’s word was one’s bond? And defended, vigorously? Or perhaps that is what is not real? Maybe it’s just fiction that portrays an earlier time where one’s word meant something, and fiction has conned me yet again.

A Basket 'o Biscuits

After my last post, I found myself thinking about biscuits. I make a decent biscuit. Maybe not even that - more of an okay biscuit. And I'm not terribly consistent. I decided it was time to work on being able to make very good - or even excellent - biscuits without having to deal with hits and misses. And I got there. Where, however, is there? What am I looking for? Glad you asked. Well for starters there is height. I really don’t like a flat biscuit. I once had one (that’s had one, not MADE and had) that was so flat I couldn’t even slice it in have to slather it in butter. Quel domage! So I wanted them to rise well. I never used to read the best before date on baking powder, because I made so many scones and pancakes and so on for both family and the business that I just never thought about it. I’m glad that I decided to do that. I only buy the little containers and I’d purchased the one I had when we moved, September of 2011. I should have read the label when I bought it: best before date was already past when I made my purchase! So the first thing to do – along with buying some buttermilk – was to get some new and active baking powder.

Along with height I prefer to have certain straightness to my biscuits. I’ve taken many a tray of b’s out of the oven to find half of them leaning like little eatable towers of Pisa. So I wanted them to be able to rise high and evenly. Turns out there is a small trick to that: knuckling. I don’t imagine that’s what it is actually called, but making a small indentation in the middle helps them rise evenly. I’ve been given baking tips and tricks that work and tips and tricks that don’t. This one does. Backwards as it may seem, while I struggle with good biscuits, I’m great with puff pastry and croissant. When I have the time and inclination, that is! It turns out that the best way to get tender flaky biscuits is similar to achieving tender flaky croissants. Similar, not the same! Don’t worry, I’m not about to give you some long drawn out directions for biscuits that take away the beautiful ease and simplicity of biscuit making. The main changes that ended up making the difference were temperature and mixing. For temperature, instead of using chilled butter I sliced the butter, and then froze the slices. And I measure out the buttermilk and put that in the freezer too. Not long enough to freeze: I only put it in there when I decided to make biscuit batch 2.2. I sliced 7 ounces of butter fairly thinly and put them on a parchment lined plate in the freezer. Then I measure 1 ½ cups of buttermilk and put that in the freezer too. THEN I started getting bowls and so on ready. I made a double recipe this time, as I was making biscuits to go with rotisserie chicken for four, and needed to have some leftover for The Boy to snack on later in the evening. I should have made a triple batch, so everyone could snack on them later. ‘Cept me. I prefer mine hot out of the oven. Anyway, I digress. Just thought I’d mention that you’ll get more than six out of this recipe, should you try it. Four cups of flour in a fairly large bowl, four teaspoons of baking powder and one teaspoon each of baking soda and salt. I whisked them together. Not something I normally do, but then again, I was having problems with my “normal” method! So I did as recommended and fluffed them up. Fluffing being my term, not any of the recipes I was looking at. Next I took the moderately frozen butter out and tossed them in the flour before I started cutting it in. I have fond memories of mum using knives to blend butter or shortening into flour, and have done it myself on occasion. Good memories, but I always just use the pastry knife thingy now. Still easy to make sure you don’t over process, and nowhere near as tiring! When the blend looked like tiny peas, I made a well in the centre and poured in the buttermilk.

And here’s where things changed from my usual method. Instead of mixing it until it was a smooth cohesive dough I used a spatula and folded it until it was a barely together crumbly shaggy dough. Then I put it on a floured board. I sort of squeezed it together and patted it down. It was still really messy, and pieces were falling off. I put those on top, and folded a third into the middle from the right and a third into the middle from the left. And then I sort of patted it out again, using my hands, not a rolling pin. There were crumbs from the bowl, and one or two from the edges. I put those on top and did the folding again. This time it was a bit smoother. Another fold, and smoother still. In the end I did the fold five times. When I’d done the 5th fold I used a rolling pin and rolled it out to 1 inch thickness. I used a two inch circular cutter. Next time I will just use a very sharp knife or pizza cutter and make squares. The ones made from the re-rolled bits after the first round were truly not as good as the rest. I put them in a 425F oven, middle rack for the second tray. First tray was one rack lower and the bottoms cooked too quickly so I moved them up one for the second tray. Oh yeah, one other thing: brush the tops lightly with buttermilk! Phew. Almost forgot that, and it made a difference to the final outcome. Those without weren't as aesthetically appealling. In the end they were exactly what I wanted. And despite making them to take over to La Maison for a roast chicken side dish, I confess to eating a number of them (a number that will never be revealed) hot out of the oven, slathered with butter and dripping with honey. And they were good. Very good. How good? The Boy LEFT HIS COMPUTER GAME to come out and cover a fair few with butter and honey before going back to his gaming buddies. Now THAT’S a biscuit!

Regina Sweet Bakery and Coffee House Review

So, the food reviewing starts! I might even do two in one blog, because we had duck last night and it was delicious. Anyway: Hildy’s mom and I went to tea/lunch on Saturday at Regina Sweet Bakery and Coffee House. I was craving a biscuit. It’s a somewhat silly thing to crave, as they’re easy to make but I can never make just ONE at home. So I end up having to eat them all. Slathered in butter and jam. And – given that I’m so close to a grocery store – I’d be tempted to add clotted cream to that. Yes, adding cream to the already present butter. I’d end up staying in the apartment, too big to get out the door. Because one dozen biscuits with all three toppings would be followed by another and another and another. Sigh. I have weaknesses!

In the end we chose Sweet because it was close to the park where the dragon boat racing was going on, and because they have lunch and tea things, and good vegetarian choices. My companion is the vegetarian, I’m an omnivore. See above, re: duck! We had been there once before but sadly they were out of vegetarian choices that time. They weren’t out of odd people (us included, perhaps?) having lunch. Now, generally, I have nothing against the odd. Different people make the world an interesting place. But having someone alternate between listening intently to our conversation and doing strange ritualistic things with paper and mutterings in the interim is a bit more distraction than I care to have when I am trying to have a pleasant visit with a friend. So, perhaps this time there would be veggie choices available, and nothing unusual with the other customers. Yes and no, as it happens. Nothing TOO unusual with the other patrons, but I did get a very strange look from someone. The kind that makes you wonder if you forgot to put clothes on, or if they’re on backwards, or they're on fire or something. But harmless. And I wasn’t on fire, so it was all ok. I had clothes on too. They MAY have been backwards, though! My friend had the French pastry with tomatoes and goat cheese. I assumed it would be puff pastry, and I worried that it would be pre-made lard puff. It ended up being basic pastry. Which she said was fine, as was the crumbled cheese on top. The sad thing was the bland imported from somewhere store bought tomato. As my friend pointed out, there we were with farmer’s markets and gardens and local produce in abundance and yet…bland slightly under ripe slices of imported tomato. Also, the pastry was baked and then the slices of tomato were placed on top. Because the bottom slice was slightly cooked from the heat of the pastry but the rest were cold slices of blah. With cheese. I should have asked her what she would have rated it on a scale of 1-10. Six? Seven? I had a lemonade and a pecan coffee cake. They had biscuits as part of various lunch choices but for no reason I can defend I am not comfortable asking for something that is not specifically listed as a thing on its own. So I didn’t have a biscuit. Which is just as well, as I don’t know if they would have had jam available. Butter yes, jam perhaps and clotted cream certainly not. Where on that scale would I rate what I had? Lemonade an eight or even nine, muffin/cake thing a three or a four. It did have a pecan. And it had good flavour but it was incredibly dry. Almost as though they made individual coffee cakes with streusel topping and then for mine forgot the cake part and just filled the thing with crumbly topping. Don’t get me wrong, I love me a good thick topping. It’s just…to be a topping you have to be on top of something, yes? Overall, I think I would go back. For a lemonade to go. I'll start carrying my camera around. Hopefully next review will have pics! (The Boy said the duck was fantastic. I was pretty happy with the results too. Just in case you were wondering.)

A Turn - or perhaps curve - in the road.

You may have noticed (all three of you that read this blog) that I haven’t blogged in a fair while. The thing is, every time something happens that I think – usually mistakenly – is interesting enough to blog about, I end up putting it on Facebook instead. Much easier, for the essentially lazy. And one is more easily forgiven for spelling/grammar/syntax errors on FB than here. So I stopped. However! I was out for tea with a friend who will some day start a blog about vegetarian eating in Regina, and it occurred to me: I like to cook and eat, I like to go out and eat. She may not be food blogging yet, but there is no reason why I couldn’t start! Some times I will write about some public place in Regina - or elsewhere – and every now and then I’ll write about a recipe I’m trying out at home. I should be able to blog more than once in a blue moon if I go ahead with the food plan. We’ll see, what with the proof being in the pudding and whatnot. My first post in this new world (no, I will not be renaming the blog. Can’t be bothered. See above note re: essential laziness) will be….not today. Tomorrow. Maybe. Because as it turns out I’m also pretty good at procrastinating as well.

Maybe just for Future Reference

I don't really miss the women who worked upstairs yet used the bathroom on our floor after their smoke break. Their conversation was horrifying (almost as though they were reading a script that wanted to make women sound like grubby money-is-everything monsters). I don't want anyone to say anything ever in the bathroom. Not just not to me, not to each other either. Not even to imaginary friends. Unless somethings happened that honest-to-goodness requires a call to 911, keep it zipped. Your mouth. Please unzip everything else before you go. Just do it back up when you're done. The one thing that I couldn't complain about regarding the smoking blondes was what washroom they were in. They were idiots, but they were idiots of the female gender. There is a man from the second or third floor (I've seen him get on the elevator, didn't stay to watch what floor he was going to) who is also using our first floor washroom. Not the first floor mens room. The first floor women's room. Maybe it's cleaner? I would have thought, if it had happened once, that perhaps the mens rooms were full. All of them. And that was a seriously unpleasant thought, because I started wondering why that might be. Regardless...it wasn't just once. Not even twice. I would say several times, at least when I've seen him. And now using that bathroom myself is kinda skeeving me out. So I've started using the second floor bathroom. Which may be starting a chain reaction of people wondering what's going on with the bathrooms. I wasn't going to say anything, back when I thought he was just using it in an emergency. And I am still not planning on saying anything. But the next time I see him coming out of the ladies he will be getting THE LOOK. the look that says seriously dude, go back to your own kind.

Happy happy joy joy.

Happiness: a good bank account, a good cook and a good digestion.

Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712 - 1778)

I've been thinking a lot about happiness lately. I used to think it was dorky to get excited over small things. I've grown up a bit and have come to realize that finding happiness in the little moments as well as the big is one of the things that makes life joyous.

So what small thing is making me happy today, at this moment? A cook book. Some of you may recall that I bought a rotisserie. The problem - not really a big deal - is that the booklet that it came with has a recipe or two, but no per-pound measurements. And even then, I want to do more than roast chicken or beef or what have you.



By the way, speaking of happiness, you'd be amazed at how people LOVE to watch it turn. It makes them happy. Yup, it really does. Chicken roasting on a turning spit is strangely fascinating.

Delivered today by UPS is the cookbook "The Ultimate Rotisserie Cookbook". Sooooo excited! I am even planning on bringing it (the rotisserie, not the book) to work and making lunch for everyone. Or having that be my contribution to the next pot luck lunch. Even planning said lunch if that's what it takes.

There is even a bonus bit of happiness - enough of a bonus that I gave a yelp of enthusiasm out loud - to this whole thing. I thought it was unfortunate that my friend - a good friend and fellow foodie, amongst other things - would not care one way or another (except she would be happy that I am happy) because she is a vegetarian. Vegetarians have no particular stake in various methods of meat cooking. But guess what? There are potato recipes in the book. Twelve of them! And she LOVES her some 'taters, good Newfoundlander that she is. So hooray, I can make non-meaty stuff too :)

It's a good day.

Grammar important it is to have good.

I have, after much procrastination, started on a book. The writing of one, not the reading of one. With the reading I seem to be perpetually starting, working on and finishing a book. The writing...not so much. Still hoping to have the children's book published but that's a whole other story. This is an actual novel. Maybe. Could just as easily fall into the "never going to happen" category. I just want to try. No crime in that, right?

I started yesterday, and quickly discovered that spell-check and I have some serious differences of opinion. I'm happy to have spelling corrected, particularly as it works better for me if I can race through an idea without worrying about the spelling first time around.

The bone of contention has to do with correct grammar and the way people actually talk. Trying to write dialogue for characters who have perfect grammar is not working.. No one sounds believable, somehow. We just don't talk that way.

I remember reading a book once where each character did have perfect grammar. I don't even remember what the book was, I just remember something feeling off, somehow. The further into the book I got the more something bothered me. It wasn't until I got to three pages of nothing but dialogue - and an argument between characters at that! - that it hit me. There was no stuttering, no "uhms" or "ergs" or poorly constructed (or even incomplete!) sentences. No one argues that way. NO ONE.

I have tried to explain this to spell check. No agreement, but I warned him that if he didn't agree I'd just ignore his issues, so that's where it stands. Sentences everywhere with squiggly green lines under them because spell-check guy (yup, it's a guy) thinks I should fix them.

No one is good at everything, everyone is good at something.

I keep having to relearn lessons. I am not alone in this, though, am I? It’s just so irritating to realize that I could have avoided any number of things – pain, embarrassment, criminal charges – if I’d remembered a previously learned lesson.

Years ago (decades, actually) I read Markings by Dag Hammarskjold. I still have the book, but there is one bit that I never need to look up:

“’Better than other people.’ Sometimes he says: ‘That, at least, you are.’ But more often: ‘Why should you be? Either you are what you can be, or you are not – like other people.’”

That is the actual quote. I seem to have changed it to “either you are everything you can be, or you are not, just like everyone else”. Not that it matters, the point is the same.

It’s a point I seem to have forgotten. It’s a point our country has forgotten when politicians think it is acceptable to say that we’re better than Syria, or Africa or anywhere else. Better to help Syria – or Pakistan, or any number of places, including Canada - be everything it can than tell them everything it isn't.

Fair enough

A friend recently made a comment on my lack of posting here. And she is right; it's been so long it took my a while to remember the password so I could post something!

The thing is, I haven't written much lately. A few strange poems that make sense to me and would be enjoyable to no one, and that's about it. I am working on a cooking post, but I want to get a picture taken of what I will be posting about. I'll blog again, truly. Someday. This month, even!