Dear America: sure, you have big-assed portion sizes and an overabundance of processed foods. Be aware, there is a far better, All-Canadian way to clog your arteries and send yourself straight in for a quadruple bypass. A delicious, gooey, cravetastic quadruple bypass.
It's called Poutine. Delicious poutine. And it's coming to a fine American dining establishment near you.
My mom has always been big on traditions. For each holiday there are designated dishes that must be prepared, there are decorations to put out and always, the family must be gathered together. As I kid, I loved these traditions. Come about the middle of November I would begin anticipating the Nanaimo bars, scuffles and butter tarts that I knew she would bake for Christmas (yes, it was all about the food). As an adult, I appreciate all the hard work that my mom put into making the holidays special with each of her traditions. And I still anticipate my first bite of Nanaimo bar, despite the fact that I have now taken over responsibility for preparing that delectable treat. Honestly, it would simply not be Christmas for me without each tradition created by my mom.
Now that I am a parent, I want to create these same memories for my boys. They already, at age eight and five, appreciate the traditions that each pair of grandparents offer up as well as the ones we have created in our own home.
Continue reading "Traditions Are The Stuff Memories are Made Of " »
This Big Binge usually starts on Thanksgiving weekend in early October. I make a stuffed bird and a brown-sugar/pineapple/7Up-glazed ham. The menu also usually includes corn, steamed vegetables, and baked potato with a huge dollop of sour cream. Of course, it's not Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie... with whipped cream on top!
My daughter attends an elementary school that offers a breakfast program. Or rather, it's supposed to offer a breakfast program, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The school is one of many across the province of Quebec that is a part of the Quebec Breakfast Club. Every morning schools participating in the program offer up hearty breakfasts including scrambled eggs, bagels with cream cheese, waffles, pancakes, yogurt, fresh fruit, etc. Um, not all at once, it's not a buffet. Still, from one day to the next, they rotate a menu and fill up little bellies before the first bell rings.
When I got pregnant with my daughter, I vowed that I’d make
all of her baby food. I bought recipe books, a blender and a festive apron, and
once she was old enough, I set about the kitchen making homemade applesauce and
butternut squash. I was excited about making homemade baby food, and
determined, too – I was going to rock this new young mother thing, and I was
going to rock it GOOD.
But my darling little girl – the apple of my eye – wanted nothing to do with my homemade baby food. She spit it all
over me, as though it was the worst thing she’d ever tasted, and I wiped my
dignity my futile efforts off of my flushed cheeks and spooned her some
Heinz Starter Peas, which, naturally, she gobbled up in no time flat.
And that’s the way it’s been with her – over the years she’s become quite a picky eater, one who, nine times out of ten, would rather eat processed foods, stuff from the freezer or out of a can, than something homemade. Like her father before her, my daughter’s idea of a fabulous meal would probably be heavy on the carbs – battered, deep-fried carbs, wrapped in more carbs – with a side of trans fats and a smattering of starch for good measure.
You can get a lot of stress out, baking bread.
I can't remember my mother baking, nor my grandmothers, but there must have been someone - it's usually generational, isn't it? And while my daughter is eager to climb up on the chair, lean over the counter, and smack the daylights out of the dough, she's a bit young yet to share confidences with, or to work out possible solutions while wrist-deep in flour-dust and yeast granules. To ponder and think and make strategies that perhaps don't solve the world's problems, but bring me closer to center.
So I'm a vegan. It's no secret. I didn't grow up being a vegan. I ate meat, mostly chicken. I hated it, and I jumped for joy whenever it was pasta night because, mmm, cheese. When I first heard about vegans, I definitely laughed and thought "NEVER" and "those peeps are weeeird." Yet here I stand before you -- a vegan. And probably a wee bit weird, come to think of it, but not because I'm vegan.
I'm vegan for a whole host of reasons, but mainly for the animals, the environment, the health. Now, two out of three of those I have down pat: I'm saving animals and I'm helping the environment. Health? Another story. I've been eating crap. Starbucks soy chai lattes, bagels, bread and peanut butter, vegan pastries (mmm, cake), and did someone say vegetables -- what is this thing you call "vegetable"? I was eating crap.
Then finally it hit me. I FEEL like crap. I must BE crap. Because, after all, you are what you eat.... I want to be a long, lean BANANA, a blossoming broccoli, a sweet pea..., not a sorry piece of crap.
Like most people who read blogs, I have a sizable blogroll. Certain themes have trended in through time - I had a lot of baby blogs when my daughter was a little, and when I went to work at the local hospital, blogs written by doctors, nurses and paramedics stacked up in number.
There are always blogs to follow about almost any profession, hobby, craft, whim. Even things you never thought you'd be interested in. But we're eating at home a LOT more these days, and in between the 100 mile diet and trying to show my children that with a little ingenuity, we can do almost anything, I've found myself reading all sorts of new and incredible stuff - and then trying it out.
For example, I adore cheese. Even the stinky stuff most people won't touch. Did you know you can make a lot of cheeses in your kitchen? Seriously. Like ricotta. Known around here as the glurp-glunch-YUMMY lasagna cheese. Or paneer, an incredibly basic but delicious Indian cheese that squeaks between your teeth if fried lightly in ghee. Even semi-hard and hard cheeses can be made at home.
I was reading an article about saving money on groceries, idly thinking 'Well, I do that', and 'Holy crap do Canadians get fleeced on coupons' - because really, Canucks, you do - and 'I'm amazed my slow cooker isn't worn out yet' and clicked away, disgruntled.
Some of the suggestions are pretty basic, after all.
My family is trying to be as local as we can be. We're kind of proud of it, actually...haunting the local farm markets for produce and goods, doing our best to buy locally. We're even experimenting with putting in (well, experimenting again) a garden.
Some things we fudge on, like coffee (I'm fine with that, I am, because mornings are not fun when I don't get my coffee) and no one seems to be distilling gasoline nearby, but we make choices like early apples over the-peaches-from-the-United-States, and ketchup made in the Maritimes.
There are quite a lot of foodies among us, but we are also readers,
writers, mothers, friends, colleagues...rivals, people who are
searching for themselves?
Today, Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers are enjoying our monthly book club, eating...and discussing the book Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs.
More posts will be put up throughout the day on our writer's personal sites, so be sure to check back to follow along.
.... and if you have a post up on YOUR personal site on this topic, please leave a comment here and we will add your link!
Past Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Clubs have included:
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