My Mom and My Aunt

The Daughter with my Mom and Dad - 1991

I'm feeling sad. My mom passed away 15 years ago today. I still find it hard to believe that I've survived, and actually thrived, in a world that she hasn't been in.

My Mom, the Daughter, Auntie Anne - 1992

My mom loved babies and was so in love when the Daughter was born. I remember going to my parents' home late at night to collect the Daughter whom they had been babysitting. I would gently gather her up from the spare bedroom, quietly tip toe toward the front door in an attempt to get her home without waking. But I could never get her past her Po Po who could not stop herself from making goo goo with her beloved baby granddaughter, inevitably waking her up into full smiles and giggles. I used to get annoyed. Now I just yearn for that sweetness and connection once again.

Gung Gung, Po Po, the Adolescent, the Daughter - 1995

The Adolescent was under 2 years old when his Po Po died. He doesn't even remember her. He doesn't remember how he would toddle into her home, walk right up to where she was sitting in her compromised state, put his little hands on her knees, and how they would commune with each other in their own non verbal way. She would have been so proud of how he's grown into a polite, confident, handsome young man.

My mom never even met the Beamer. She would have really liked him. He has her dark dark eyes and lovely easy-going flexible disposition.

Me and Trish at Auntie Anne's 90th birthday party

Yesterday my mom's oldest sister passed away. My Auntie Anne. She was 91. She was a good aunt to me. I always knew I would find support and acceptance with Auntie Anne. She was the one we went to when our children were born and asked her to give them Chinese names. The Daughter's means Light of Her Ancestors, the Adolescent's means Refined and Scholarly Hero, and the Beamer's means Magnificent Hero.

Auntie Anne with Doug and Gordon on her 90th birthday

Out of 7 siblings, three are left now. How lonely they must feel. We will gather in Montreal next week for Auntie Anne's funeral. I will feel comforted by the presence of my extended family from far and wide. I will share my memories with my cousins Gordon and Doug who cared so tenderly and devotedly for their mother, particularly evident in the last few years of her life.

Rest in peace to these two beautiful sisters.  My Mom and my Auntie Anne.

Care Package

Today I fulfilled a long-unattended-to responsibility that I didn't even know I had until a few months ago. The Daughter informed me in September that she has never (NEVER) received a care package from me while away at university. Who knew? I certainly didn't. No one ever told me. How does one find out about these things unless someone tells you? Apparently all (ALL) her friends at university have received care packageS (that's plural, more than one, many) from their parents over the 3 years they've all been away. The Daughter never mentioned it before. How was I to know? What do her friends (but not her) receive in these packages? Food, clothing, stuff for their rooms, toiletries, etc. I used to send care packages to her when she was away at summer camp. But I thought I had successfully completed that duty. Apparently not.

The Hubby and the Beamer

I recently had lunch with my friend Lydia who mentioned that she had sent lasagna to her son at university. Lasagna?! So Lydia obviously knew. Hello...did you not think to mention this to me before??? What happened to the sacred unspoken rule between parents: Stick Together! If one parent goes rogue, everyone suffers. This happened with loot bags at kids' birthday parties. They went from a few candies and maybe a toy from the dollar store to these over the top extravaganzas. And it all started because one parent lost control, forgot that we're all in this together. So now it seems that care packages to our children who are away at university is the accepted practice. I must follow my own advice and send one. But what I'm really thinking is: "Are you kidding me?!" Is it not enough that I'm paying for you to live away from me, far far away from home, supporting you to live your own life, make your own decisions, become a successful confident and accomplished young adult, thrive on your own without me? Apparently not.

The Adolescent touched a few before he found the Perfect One...sorry Daughter!

So my darling Daughter, you can look forward to a care package arriving in the mail in the next few days. It will be filled with cookies that were baked with love and short bursts of violence that were necessary to keep your father and brother from eating them all. Please accept them with my apologies for being a few years late. But feel good in knowing, now that this is public, that future university students living away from home will not have to suffer as you did for so long waiting for a package that never comes, although the care is always always present.

Chocolate Chunk Pecan Shortbread Cookies

 All my love, Mom

The Thing About Mid Life Crises

Sabina and me - Rome, Aug 2009

Dear Sabina,

You are going through a thing and I just want you to know that you are not alone.

Sabina, Susan, me and Sarah in Algonquin Park Sept 2008

In my experience there are a few things one can do in the face of this kind of thing. One effective response is doing something that takes you totally out of your comfort zone, challenges you, where you can take nothing for granted. It reaffirms that you are indeed still alive and vital. You will remember wilderness camping a few years ago to help me through my thing? Me. Wilderness camping! I obviously was not in my proper frame of mind. But there you were, along with Sarah and Susan and the Daughter, to witness my insanity. I am here to witness yours.

Lunch at Sabina's family's apt in Rome Aug 2009

There's a scene from the movie Moonstruck that I love. A woman, played by Olympia Dukakis, is trying to understand why her husband of 40+ years is having an affair with another woman. After spending the whole movie talking to people, trying to understand, she finally gets it. She shares her new found wisdom with him and yells: "You're going to die anyway!" YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ANYWAY. No matter what we do, have an affair, buy a penis car, get a facelift, go wilderness camping, we're going to die anyway.

BFFs in Picton Sept 2009

An essential part of accepting that we're going to die anyway is to acknowledge the loss. The loss of youth, the narrowing of possibility, saying good bye to all the stages we've outgrown (or been pushed out of), even if we're not quite ready yet to let them go.


An appreciation of the good stuff is perhaps a cliche but still helpful to put things in perspective. In case you miss any in a mid life accounting I can point out a few. You are the one who can stop us in our tracks while hiking in Algonquin Park, sniff the air, and then ominously proclaim that you "smell bear". You are the one who after every Friday afternoon tea would go home to cook a full 3 course meal for your family while the rest of us ordered in pizza or opened a can of soup for ours. You can source out a sidewalk pizzeria in a non-touristy area of Rome and share it with your friend who will always remember it as the best pizza (bresaola and arugula) she's ever eaten. You have been a most devoted daughter.

Sarah and Sabina - Sun Salutations - Algonquin Park 2008

You have been the Supreme Nurturer for a good many years now. Many people have benefited from your skill at taking care of others, including me. Now perhaps it's time to push a little at the boundaries of comfort. The rest of mid life beckons!


 Love, Gastronome

Night of the Shirt

Me, Dayle, and Allison: Understated Beauty

So you know that female/male thing that happens with animals? Where the male of the species is the more noticeable one in order to attract the female? The male is the one sporting the beautiful colours and the eye catching physical attributes? Well this weekend it happened at my house. The women looked beautiful, as women usually do, in understated elegance.

Arnie, on the inside of Ken's Shirt

But the guys...!

You will remember Ken and Dayle (see At Last!). Ken, my surrogate brother, arrives in a beautiful shirt by Robert Graham that he bought by himself. A pleasing geometric pattern with contrasting fabric on the inside cuffs and collar. AND an embroidered portrait of Arnold Schwarzenegger on the inside back collar. AND signed by the designer himself. Perfect Man point!

The Hubby, Ken, and Peter in their Shirts

Peter is also wearing a beautiful and statement making shirt. Peter and Allison are new friends. Ken and Dayle introduced us likely thinking that we'd have at least one thing in common and that's that Peter and Allison have a Beamer in their lives too. There's not much talk about our special kids this night. Too much to say about the Shirts! The guys are talking clothes. They're talking designers. Am I dreaming?! Peter doesn't look too happy with the conversation. I think he'd rather be skiing. But, remember Peter, it doesn't matter how you feel, it's how you look. And you look good in your Shirt!



The Hubby also looks very good in his Shirt. Although he would look good in anything (just softening the blow that's to come, maybe not right away, but you know that it will come). The Hubby gets a half point here. Let me explain why. When a Perfect Man point is earned in this area the guy has fulfilled the following criteria:

1. Decides HIMSELF that he needs a new shirt (nope);
2. Decides HIMSELF which store(s) he should shop at (nope);
3. Picks out HIMSELF what shirts to try on (partially);
4. Wades through all the feedback from the salesperson and any support people he has brought along and decides HIMSELF which shirt he looks good in (partially);
...AND, most importantly...
5. Actually LOOKS GOOD in his choice (yes definitely)

Moroccan Chicken

This night I make Moroccan Chicken with Eggplant, Tomatoes, and Almonds with couscous. This is a delicious dish that is redolent with the flavours of north Africa: cumin, turmeric, ginger, fennel, and coriander.










For dessert there is Raspberry Cake with Marsala served with creme fraiche and raspberries.

Fresh coriander (aka cilantro)

It's always a little nerve wracking cooking for people whom you don't know very well yet. You can ask ahead of time if your guests have any food allergies and/or dislikes. People will usually tell you the big stuff, like an allergy to nuts or shellfish or if they're vegetarian or hate fish. It's not as certain that they'll tell you about the little things they don't like, like raisins, or olives, or capers, or coconut. It's a dilemma for those with a "sensitive palate". What's s/he to say? List off a LONG list of disliked foods and possibly be viewed as a Picky Eater? Coriander is one of the little things that might be on someone's unexpressed dislike list. Coriander is a main flavour component of Moroccan Chicken. Although I love coriander I've come to know that people either love it or hate it. And I mean HATE it. It must be like an allergy or something that their body is physically repulsed by it.

Luckily everyone this night seems to like coriander AND Moroccan Chicken. A fitting and flavourful tribute to the Night of the Shirt!

Friends Worth Stalking

Connie and Jill

Jill and I met 9 years ago after I followed her into the bathroom. Some call it stalking. But I call it serendipity. Although serendipity might not be accurate either as it refers to making fortunate discoveries by accident. Meeting Jill and then her husband John was definitely a fortunate discovery, but not so accidental. It was during a time that I was desperate to meet other parents who had a "Beamer" in their lives too. I went to a parent workshop and was disheartened when it ended and I had met no one. As I was walking out of the building crestfallen I noticed that a woman (Jill) who had spoken eloquently about her daughter was also walking out just ahead of me. She turned into the bathroom. So I turned into the bathroom too. There I waited, trying to look natural, until she came out of the one stall. We started chatting. One thing lead to another and our friendship over the years has been a very fortunate thing. If this qualifies as stalking, I think it must be in its most positive sense. Knowing what you want and going after it. And then appreciating the often unforeseen but fortunate outcome.

With trepidation, Connie watches John cut the pie

Together, the Hubby and I and Jill and John revel in our special children. We bond over the challenges and the delights of being parents to them. We reveal things to each other that we would never say to anyone else. About the worries, the sadness, the disappointments, the isolation, the pride, the appreciation. About the marvel of it all. Of course our bond over our children can't be the only thing for an enduring friendship. We learn that Jill likes yesterday's salad, all limp and soggy. She is also very forthright which is a quality I admire. She is engaged with all the people in her life which is no easy feat since Jill and John have a lot of friends. John approaches Perfect Manhood with his clothes shopping ability but, alas, doesn't bake. This flaw is neutralized when he reveals that he knit Jill a sweater many years ago when they were courting. Definitely worth a bonus point!

Treasure and his Pie

This weekend we have Jill and John over for dinner with our other friends Treasure and Connie. You will remember Treasure from donut making (see Donut Day in July). I met Treasure before I had to stalk him. Treasure, with Connie's sous chef support, makes a Salted Caramel Pie AND Sweet Potato Cupcakes with Chocolate Icing for dessert. Treasure once heard someone liken people to pie. The crust is what presents itself to the world and we make assumptions about what's inside but it's only when you've gotten into the gooey centre of it does the pie really reveal what it's all about. All you can initially see of Treasure's pie is the simple white whipped cream topping. The graham crust is uncooperative and difficult to get into. Finally a piece is successfully cut and the filling is delicious. It tastes as if it took a lot of ingredients and all day to make. Then Treasure reveals the recipe. Sweetened condensed milk baked in the oven for 3 hours. Surprisingly simple but with great reward. Just like serendipitous stalking.

Croissants

I am at risk to chicken out so I'm proclaiming it here. I'm going to make croissants. In the movie "It's Complicated", Meryl Streep's character takes Steve Martin's character to her bakery shop. She offers to make him anything off the menu and he chooses a chocolate croissant. So she makes him one. Just like that. This is my inspiration.

Have I ever made croissants before? No. Do I know what it involves? No. But I just looked at a recipe and that's why I'm on the brink of clamping my hands over my mouth so no more foolishness passes these lips. So many steps. Lots of chilling, turning, rolling, rising. It will take all day. Or more. Is it going to be worth it? Langdon Hall is only an hour's drive away from Toronto. The pastry chef there makes the most delicious croissants and pain au chocolate. Crispy on the outside. Light and tender but full of substance on the inside. I ate TWO every day on my recent getaway there with the Hubby. Every morning we debated. Do we eat them first when we're hungry so we can fully savour them? Or do we eat them last and relish the anticipation? I chose to eat mine first. Just as I choose to eat vegetables last. If you wait (and this applies to a lot of things in life) fate might intervene and take away your opportunity.

I don't know when I'll get the urge to actually do it. I anticipate it will be on a cold grey winter's day. Ideally a cold grey day THIS winter. There's always the risk that I might successfully distract myself with my other recently formulated learning goals: Twitter and Pool (the kind with the balls and long stick). So if the outside patios reopen, I can beat you at pool, and still no tweet has been sent from my croissant-making kitchen, please be sure to remind me of this post!