Doing Nothing

The Hubby and I are participating in our annual post tax season getaway. It is a ritual we established many years ago in order to get reacquainted with each other after two long months of fleeting connection. In our regular lives, it's so easy to devolve into schedule coordination and to do lists. Although these things are necessary to some degree, it takes committed vigilance (mine) and responsive willingness (his) to keep it deep and meaningful. On this getaway we engage in what is our most beloved but infrequent pastime: Doing Absolutely Nothing. While Doing Absolutely Nothing we have to deal with occasional feelings of guilt at our indulgence. What does it say about the expectations we put on ourselves when relaxing requires justification and rationalization? We also worry that we've fallen into a rut. Timepieces around the world can be set to what we do on this weekend. We go to the exact same place, do the exact same things, in the exact same order, every time. We feel better once we conclude that it can't be a rut if we're enjoying what we're doing. Can it?

The beauty of Doing Absolutely Nothing is that we're now available to ponder and reflect on some of the things that usually escape our attention.

Like rhubarb crumble. And grilled nutella and banana sandwiches. Both are offered every morning at the ample breakfast buffet. Dessert for breakfast - how great is this?!

Breakfast!

Sourdough bread made in house. Although the "healthy eating" experts advise against eating too much bread, I cannot resist. The sourdough starter for this bread came to the hotel 6 years ago, brought by the pastry chef from another hotel in Tofino, B.C. where it was "started" 10 years before. The bread I'm slathering with house-churned butter was started 16 years ago. How cool is that?!

"Old" bread

The Hubby and I get to DISCUSS things that don't involve who has to be where, what has to happen when, and can you believe the Adolescent did WHAT?! The Hubby's discussions usually involve some sort of Manspeak related to Blue Jays baseball. To hear him go on about them you would think that the Jays are his greatest source of joy and greatest source of despair. I would roll my eyes but that would be Doing Something and that is not in the schedule.

I get to mull over why people would choose to cook when amazing food can be had already prepared, even if cost wasn't a factor. We determine that it's related to pride and recognition for our accomplishments. And it's a way to show people who you care about that, well, you care about them.

We go on a daily tramp through the woodland forest that is part of the allure of this place. When the Hubby proclaims that he has to pee only a few minutes into our walk it initiates a discussion of whether he was paying attention during the inevitable childhood lesson of Prepping To Go Out. I take in the magnificent sight of wild trillium dotting the woodland floor. We briefly consider going on a bicycle ride but quickly dismiss the idea. That, again, would be Doing Something and there is not enough time for that.

A quintessential Ontario spring flower

Soon we will return to the fast paced high demand existence that is regular life. But, in the meantime, absolutely nothing is taking up all of my time.

Vegetarian Birthday Dinner

Cooking vegetarian is not in my comfort zone. I don't know why. I eat vegetables. I cook vegetables. I even bake with vegetables at times. Maybe it's something to do with not having the choice. Maybe having no other option but to use vegetables sets my control issues on high alert. For whatever reason, planning for a vegetarian meal always feels like an extraordinary feat.

The Adolescent, the Daughter, the Beamer, Paolo

This weekend's dinner is to celebrate the April birthdays of 3 of my beloved people: Mary, the Adolescent, and the Hubby. Or as the Hubby will be affectionately called in today's post: Mush for Brains. Mush for Brains is nearing the end of "tax season" and it seems that mush is about all he has left up there for things that are not tax returns. For 2 months of the year he works all day, into the wee hours of the night, and on weekends. The tax returns he completes are things of beauty but everything else is hit and miss. His patience is shot. His memory is in tatters. He falls asleep at the table in the middle of a dinner party! Luckily the heart does not appear to be dependent on a well-working brain. Mush for Brain's heart continues to be large and loving. (Read about MFB`s birthday last year)

Wild Mushroom Parcels in front of a photo of Black Pepper Tofu from Plenty cookbook

For this weekend's dinner I must plan a feast that doesn't include meat (Mary), nuts (Mike), eggs or cheese (Paolo). I scour through my recipe files. Everything good I've already made or contains one of the forbidden ingredients. I buy a vegetarian cookbook: Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi. It's gorgeous and inspiring. I decide on Wild Mushroom Parcels which are appropriately gift-like for a birthday dinner. A mixture of shitake, oyster, and cremini mushrooms along with fresh tarragon give the dish a subtle licorice taste. Mary is touched. She recognizes the effort. She is especially appreciative of the fact that I even cooked at all! (Read about Mary`s birthday last year)

Inside the Wild Mushroom Parcels

Mush for Brains grills a few steaks for the die hard carnivores among us. To balance all this Meat I must also make "meat". What's the deal with tofu? Tasteless, odourless, and pasty white. I don't even know where to find it in the supermarket! Is it vegetable? "meat"? dairy? eggs? But all is forgiven with Black Pepper Tofu from Plenty cookbook. The tofu is smothered in garlic, chilies, ginger, shallots, and soy sauce and it's delicious! Paolo who apparently doesn't like tofu gobbles it up.

Blowing out the birthday candles

Finally it's time for the reason why I eat all the other stuff. So I can get to dessert. The birthday cake is Frozen Lemon Meringue Cake. This cake will definitely be added to my repetoire. Layers of meringue, lemon curd, and vanilla ice cream are frozen and then, just before serving, softened in the fridge. It is cool, tart, sweet, velvety, crunchy, and lush. Lemon heaven! Paolo eats THREE pieces! And he usually doesn't like meringue (it's made from eggs you know). There are no leftovers.

Frozen Lemon Meringue Cake

One dinner out of my comfort zone, three new recipes tried with great success, one amazing birthday cake, and three beloved people celebrated in the best way I know how.

Eliza's Cupcakes

"Eliza"

This is "Eliza". She is in quotation marks because I have never actually met Eliza in the flesh so can only vouch for "Eliza". Although quotation marks are not good when it comes to "meat" I think it's acceptable when referring to "people". I talked to "Eliza" on the phone once very briefly. And we exchanged a couple of instant messages a while ago. "Eliza" drew me a picture a long time ago and it's still pinned to my bulletin board at work. Or at least I was told she drew it for "me" but nothing's for certain when you're dealing with quotation marks.





I "know" Eliza because her father is my friend Treasure. According to Treasure, Eliza is an amazing kid who always has lots to say, is a very good baseball player, and now it seems is a baker of amazing looking cupcakes. I can't vouch for their taste because, sadly, no cupcake was ever shared with me. But I have a good imagination and they certainly look like they taste good!

This is "Eliza's" story...

Hi my name is Eliza. I am nine years old and was born in Ontario. I got this recipe from my Nan. She sent it to me in the mail. She said she found it in a magazine. They looked super cute and yummy. These are the steps me and my mom used:

1. we made the cupcakes using a rainbow chip mix

2. my mom iced the cupcakes while I put on the sprinkels and M and Ms        

3. When they were all done we  made faces and itenies (antennae is a hard word to spell - Gastronome)

4. After that we made eyes and mouths      

5. Last we put a brown line through the middle

The ingreetings that we used were:

·         Cupcake mix (found at any grocery store)

·         White iceing (found at any grocery store)

·         Red sprinkles

·         Lindor chocolate cut in half

·         Brown M and Ms

·         Same white iceing to do the eyes

·         And black iceing to do the dot in the eyes (found at a cake store)

·         Last we used  light brown iceing  to do the middle line (found at a cake store)

  
On Easter Sunday my family went to my dads sisters house and took the cupcakes. I  thought  they were super good and my cousins did too.

                                                        Guest Blogger, Eliza 

P.S This is my first time being on a blog

P.S I prefer you to make these cupcakes

                                        Bye!

To Ring or Not to Ring?

The Adolescent is maturing! How I know this to be true:

Immaturity is never far below the surface

It was the Adolescent's 17th birthday on the weekend. This in itself means nothing with respect to maturity. But, coupled with...

Scarlett colours Easter eggs to decorate the dinner table

At his birthday dinner, the Birthday Bell did not ring even once! The tradition at the birthday dinner table is that the Birthday Person gets full Power and Control of the Birthday Bell. With its ring, the Birthday Person can ask for ANYTHING!  Theoretically, when the bell rings, everyone around the dinner table jumps up and clambers to do whatever it is that the birthday person wants. This is how it happens in my fantasy anyway. Before the Adolescent was an adolescent he was given the birthday bell for one memorable birthday dinner. He rang that bell constantly. Everyone was going insane with the ringing and the demands. It was Power and Control gone amok in the hands of someone too young to respect the responsibility of it all. I lasted as long as I could but then I took the bell away. He claims that no bell rang this year due to emotional scarring. I suppose that some would consider this a byproduct of maturation!
 

The Adolescent with Sinikka and Gung Gung

The Adolescent is engaged and interactive during family dinners. What happened to the sullen, slouching, grunting boy of just a year or so ago? Today he chats, he tells funny stories, he asks people about themselves, he asks his sister for advice, he listens, he speaks of a future and how he wants to change the world for the better.

Richard, the Adolescent, and Trish flexing their muscles with Grandpa looking on

The Adolescent actually listening to Brian

The Adolescent eats the birthday cake I bake for him! Every year we go through this sad little ritual. I ask him what cake he wants me to bake. He says he'd prefer a cake from the grocery store. I really try and do what he has asked. I remind myself not to take this personally. I remind myself that it's not about me this day. I try and convince myself that if he wants a store bought cake that it takes nothing away from me to get him a store bought cake. I try but in the end I always fail.

So delicious!

But this year is different. We never even begin our sad predictable interaction. This year I bake him a Frozen Mocha Cake with Chocolate Ganache Glaze. Coffee mousse in the middle surrounded by chocolate meringue cake and covered in a rich chocolate glaze. This cake gets raves from everyone at the table. But will the Adolescent eat it? He tries a taste. It's delicious! He finishes the slice and then polishes off the rest of the cake later that night. I don't even recognize this boy.

Me and the Birthday Boy

Here's to many more years of birthday cakes that may or may not be eaten, to experiences that may (hopefully there's not too many of these) or may not scar, and to Birthday Bells that may or may not be rung! Happy Birthday Sweetie!

Tribute to the Last Cookie

I ask the Daughter if she can send me a couple of photos of her and her friends eating the cookies she received in her care package. In theory she's totally supportive of this idea but then reality sinks in. In order to take a picture of eating cookies it means that she will actually have to eat the cookies and this means less cookies. I think to myself that yes isn't that the point of cookies? To eat them? However, my finely tuned parental instincts (in my dreams) tell me to watch and wait so, on this rare occasion, I do.

The face of sadness at the last cookie

Margaret says the only thing they should eat from now on are the chocolate cookies and that I should open a bakery. I always liked Margaret.

The Boyfriend says the cookies are delicious and he wants more. I always knew the Boyfriend had good taste.

Laura, Margaret, and Brandy

In the end, the cookies last 5 days. In the end, the Daughter realizes that desserts are meant to be shared. And that's because:

Food is Love.

Grocery Shopping

Weekly grocery shopping at a supermarket must be one of the most inefficient processes of daily living. First we take stuff off the shelves and into our shopping carts. Then at the checkout we take things out of our carts and onto the conveyor belt. Then we take the bags off of the conveyor belt and back into our carts. At the car, we take the bags out of the cart and into the car. Once home, we take the bags out of the car and into the house. The final step is taking stuff out of the bags and into their storage places in the house.

A long time ago when the kids were little I tried phoning it in. You place your grocery order by phone or online and it's delivered right to your door. There's only one in/out from the bags to your shelves. But that shopping as an experience was a shadow of its usual self. There's something about seeing and appreciating the bounty that's available to us that's important to me keeping my life of abundance in perspective.

This has come into my contemplation at this time because the Hubby is working on the weekends so it's just me and the Beamer for grocery shopping. The Beamer loves grocery shopping. He doesn't worry about time constraints. He never has an agenda. He doesn't have any preconceived expectations. He just lives in the exact moment that he's in and gets all the enjoyment he can from it. For the Beamer, the weekly trip to the grocery store is an adventure. It's an opportunity to observe lots of interesting looking people. It's a time to try out different foods. It's a place with wide open spaces to practice walking (away). Every aisle you turn down has attractive items on the shelves to grab and touch.

The Beamer's not worried by his mother's exasperation. He knows she'll get it eventually.

From Mother to Daughter

I first tasted Anzac Biscuits about 15 years ago in New Zealand. My brother-in-law Richard's mother Anne was the baker of them. Anne generously gave me her recipe back then and I was inspired to resurrect it this weekend in honour of the visit from Australia of Richard's sister (and Anne's daughter) Angela and her family. However, a Canadian making an Australian specialty for Australians didn't seem appropriate. I instead make Apple Crisp, a recipe passed to me from my mother. It was a perfect end to an Indian inspired meal that Trish and Richard created after commandeering our kitchen. Now THIS is the way to entertain! Someone else cooks a delicious meal and my only responsibilities are my specialties: dessert and candles.

A treasured well-used recipe card written by my mother

Mothers passing along their recipes to secure a piece of themselves into the future. Recipes and wisdom. In addition to apple crisp, I learned many things from my mother. Prepare ahead of time for a dinner party. Drink lots of water. Keep a piece of paper towel on the floor of the kitchen while you're cooking to wipe up drips. Be suspicious of strangers.This last one seems a little random but it made a lasting impression.

No strangers here!

Angela, Doug and their daughter Alana bring us a bottle of champagne-style beer that they picked up on their way through Boston. It tastes like beer but lighter and with finer bubbles. As for the choice of wine, the Hubby is in a quandary. Australian wine served to Australians in Canada doesn't seem appropriate. So the Hubby picks some fine Ontario wines from Hillebrand Winery.

Doug and Angela, Richard and Trish

Alana, Scarlett, the Adolescent, the Beamer

Now back to the Anzac Biscuits. Although I'm not Anne's daughter, I'm the sister of Anne's DAUGHTER-in-law. Close enough! Scarlett is Anne's granddaughter and calls her "Ma". Even better. I will too! If I'm properly calculating my motherly responsibilities, the Daughter is due a second care package right about now (read about her first care package) . I will send her Anzac Biscuits passed from Ma to Mom to Daughter. These biscuits come out exactly as I remember them from 15 years ago when Ma made them. Crisp and crunchy with pumpkin, sunflower, and sesame seeds.

Anzac Biscuits

However I want to show the Daughter that her mother doesn't just do the minimum. I go the extra mile. I also make Instant Ecstasy Chocolate Cookies from Karen Barnaby's cookbook Screamingly Good Food. There's hardly any flour in these cookies and lots of chocolate and pecans and almonds. They are soft and gooey and intensely chocolatey. The Adolescent is very appreciative that they all don't fit into the mailing container.

Rich and gooey chocolate delight

The Daughter is going to love both of these treats. She can savour them while she contemplates the lessons she learned from me. Say what you think. Your feelings are worth expressing. Relationships are hard work but always worth the effort. Don't trust anyone who doesn't eat dessert. She also learned that when she goes to the washroom at a restaurant to not leave her purse back at the table without someone watching out for it. You never know when a suspicious stranger is going to crawl under the table without your dinner mates noticing and steal it. From mother to daughter to daughter.

My Dad, the Hubby, Sinikka, Trish, the Beamer, the Adolescent, Angela and Doug