Montreal: Day Two

We woke up early in our apartment/hotel suite, with the sun streaming in through the space between the drapes, and the sound of construction rising up through the street air into the bedroom. Apparently construction can start rather early in downtown Montreal. No matter, we fell back asleep regardless and dozed until we lazily decided that it was time to start the day.

L'Appartement Hotel had a free continental breakfast buffet, which is one of the reason that I chose that location. Very few hotels in downtown Montreal offer this and when I travel, I've always found it to be nice to be able to grab some cereal or a muffin in the morning and then a bagel and piece of fruit for a snack on the road or later in the evening. Unfortunately, the scene we walked into reminded me of what the family section in a Denny's might be like on a weekend morning. People everywhere, loud talking, barely anywhere to sit. The biggest problem though was in the layout of the breakfast. Now, not just my interior designer instincts could have figured out that this space was the most poorly planned buffet line ever. A large island in the middle holding the coffee, tea, hot water, milk, yogurt, muffins, etc, with narrow walkways on either side. There were trays but these proved to be bulky and useless since there was nowhere on this island to set them down while gathering the breakfast choices. A juggling act proved even more tricky finding out that the plates and cutlery where actually on the back wall in the middle of the toaster and bagels/breads, past the island. So, you had to push past people to get a plate, then go back past people to get a slice of bread, then back again to toast it. Insane, I tell you. Maybe this was the French's idea of a joke on the visiting English? In any case, we basically carb loaded on Eggo's, muffins, cereal and toast, and then ramped up that hit with a sugary jolt of cafe mochas that we made by dumping half a packet of hot chocolate into our coffees. A couple of those, and I was buzzing to get outside!

We changed into our walking gear, packed up a bag with the camera and some snacks, and off we went on our downtown adventure! One of the first things that I noticed about the downtown was all of the graffiti art. I say art because these were truly pieces of beauty. No cowardly juvenile tagging here, but full colour, mural sized pieces of urban cultural beauty. I couldn't help but stop to admire each piece that we saw. I eagerly ducked between every building on our way down St.Catherine's street (down the Latin side), eager to see what treasure the brick would hold. I've only posted a few of the photos that I took of these colourful and detailed masterpieces. I wish that Winnipeg had more of this type of art in the downtown. C kept smiling and asking me if I was enjoying my camera as he was forced to stop every ten feet to watch me click click click quick snapping shots with amazing shutter speed.

Even a BFI bin is transformed into a thing of beauty after being covered in vibrant spray paint. As we walked farther and farther down St.Catherine's street, we passed all sorts of interesting clothing shops, sex shops, restaurants, pubs, a burlesque parlour and we checked out as many places as we could. We reached a huge bridge that we walked under and saw the homeless people, sleeping on cardboard mats, their dogs curled up asleep beside them. We walked farther and the shops were replaced with taller condos and official looking buildings. Realizing we were probably getting away from the "tourist" area, we decided to turn around and make our way back to one of the cross-streets miles up. We had a map so we decided that once we found the right one, we could take a left and walk right through China Town.

China Town was very cool. One of the most amazing things about Montreal downtown on a Saturday is the people. The is actual hustle and bustle. Imagine Corydon on a hot summer day, and multiply that experience by 10. People everywhere, dressed in their own unique style, something that Winnipeg definitely seems to lack. People speaking in English, French, Chinese, Spanish. Open aired cafes spilling into the street. The noise of vibrant city, alive. I absolutely loved it! China town contains countless spice stores, trinket stores, and bakeries. Our feet were getting quite sore and since we hadn't had lunch yet, we were both getting peckish. We thought that a snack might do us good, but this turned out to be lunch-suicide. We walked into the first bakery that we reached, after walking past a window with neatly arranged pastries filled with cream, calling to us through the window "come eeeeat usss! we are soooo soft and tasty!" Of course, we're on holidays, so we listened to these little voices of naughty delight. Once through the tiny entrance, we realized that the bakery was actually much bigger than it appeared on the outside. Like many shops in Montreal, a narrow space between two buildings often incredibly houses very large spaces. It reminds me of the scene from Harry Potter where the building that the Order of the Phoenix use opens up like an accordion to accommodate for the space required. Anyways, back to these big, plum pastries! There were more choices than we knew what to do with and everything was $1. What?! I was indeed a kid in a candy store. Actually, a young(ish) adult in a Chinese bakery shop. I wanted one of everything! I mean, come on, I was walking all day, right? Coconut tarts and buns, custard tarts and buns, buns stuffed with different creams, twisty pastry, savory tarts, hot dogs wrapped in pastry...oh, and they also offered the wonderfully refreshing and fun-to-drink bubble tea that I so guiltily love. What could be more fun than getting a plastic cup full of the flavour of your choice, with a huge wide plastic straw with red stripes, poking into the liquid, carefully transporting plump round chewy balls of tapioca to my eagerly awaiting taste buds. Chewing up the tapioca is such a simple pleasure but evokes such a child-like moment of happiness for me. I am smiling just thinking about it. I think only having a bubble tea everyone once in a blue moon also makes the experience that much more special. Again, back to the pastry. We decided on a big fluffy bun with soft bright white cream, poking out of the ends. We also decided on the coconut bun with a sugary crust top and dough swirled together like a cinnamon bun. Lastly, we found a long twisted soft pastry that had egg custard dotted throughout the folds. Since that one was wrapped in plastic, it only made sense to buy it for later. Obviously. Once at the counter, C asked again if I wanted bubble tea. I sometimes feel like having too many treats will spoil me and nothing will be special anymore, and then I feel guilty. But, after very little arm twisting, I had a coconut bubble tea ordered and C was waiting on his mango version while we paid for our bun. They were wrapped in light parchment paper and placed in one of the thousands of white paper bakery boxes they had on the counter. Leaving the bakery with our small parcel of fresh sweets made me feel very Parisian and the bubble tea, more metropolitan. The sun was warming the entire street and we bustled our way through the crowds to some nearby empty benches around the corner. Our feet needed a rest and our tummies needed some more fuel. We each picked up a pastry and took our first much anticipated bites. The taste was as sweet and fresh as it looks in the photos. We polished off the 2 in the box and the packaged one in about 5 minutes. Moooore sugary carbs, and we're ready for the road again. 

One of the coolest things about larger cities is the abundance of public art. Montreal has some huge pieces. The one below looked like a jumbled bunching of letters on red poles from the street, but the piece also included a viewing box: a small square on a pole on top of a box, to look through. From the right perspective, the seemingly random letters come together into a statement.

 One of my other favorite pieces that we stumbled across was a thick green lawn, covered in giant car air fresheners. Signs on the grass stated in french to keep off the lawn, while children cheerily laughed and ran through the wooden sculptures. I for one, am with the children on this one. Public works of art should be enjoyed to the fullest and I was ready to run through the tree too if our feet weren't getting so sore from a day of walking.

 A day before we flew to Montreal, hubs jumped down from a ladder and came down off-balance and hard on one heel. It was still sore when we got to Montreal and the hours of walking weren't doing him any good. We were nearing Vieux Port now, the oldest area of Montreal. C's foot was throbbing by this point and after staring up in wonder at the beautifully constructed Cathedral Notre Dame, when we looked down, an angel of mercy was standing before us. 10' tall, white and named Duke. A row of horse drawn carriages were right behind us, the riders taking a break to snack on sandwiches. We looked up at the first one and asked how much. A quick check in the wallet for cash and we were good to go. We first made our way through the winding financial district before getting to Vieux Port. There is nothing quite like seeing all of the old architecture and knowing that many of these structures were standing in the same place over 200 years ago.

 After a too-short and too-expensive ride, we were dropped off near the harbour and started making our walk back up the hill. We explored a few unique decor shops along the way and paused for scenic photographs in between the stone houses on the cobblestone streets. We reached a large opening between buildings, and were suddenly in a town square. C was getting tired and his sore foot were not helping his mood for an area he felt was too touristy. We saw many street performers including a Peruvian pan flute band (cue the hilariously cute South Park episode), a woman enthralling a group of children with her animal balloons, and a man doing street magic. He had take the hoodie of a volunteer from the crowd and was proceeding to put a lit and smoking cigarette into it. The faces on the on-lookers was priceless and the magician's timing was impeccable at creating tension. I'll spoil the ending. The hoodie survived and the magician was not pummelled by the large owner of the article.

 Despite all of the food we had eaten that day, we were again, getting hungry. A lesson for those of you thinking that only sugary carbs will keep your tank running, not so. The night sky had fallen and the temperature had dropped slightly but it was still pleasant outside and the streets were no less filled with excitement and people. In fact, all of the restaurant were no hubs of activity, inside and out. We finally found a street with restaurant after restaurant on it and we decided to walk the strip to determine what sort of food we were craving. Chinese, nope. Sushi, nope. Greek...hmm, that looked really good. Mexican...hubs was down for that. We walked back to the Mexican place and saw the line going out the door and men in sombreros and decided that this was just a little much for us at the moment. We wanted to just sit down and enjoy ourselves. Me, having a memory for the placement of objects, remembered that there was a taco sign on one of the building near our apartment and I could see in my mind that it was on the south side of the street, on the far corner of an intersection. So, we started walking back up the hill and then back down the street that our hotel was on. We walked and we walked and we walked... We started losing confidence that we were going in the right direction but after consulting the hotel map, we were only another 5 blocks from the hotel. Marching on. We passed the hotel and now I remembered the restaurant was nearby. Well, maybe nearby from the hotel when you haven't already walked for 10 hours and are getting sore and tired and hungry. We stopped a girl at an intersection who was English and she told us that it shouldn't be far. We still didn't see it. "That it!" I proclaimed. "One more block and then I say we turn around and just go back to the Lebanese place on the other side of the hotel or pick up something from the grocer!" At the very next corner, we saw the glowing sign...tacos. Sigh of relief. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good feeling when we went in. The restaurant wasn't very full and the menu was short and didn't contain anything vegetarian and very few chicken dishes, which I was craving much more than beef. We each found something to try. I got chicken enchiladas that was actually more of a chicken mole, heavy on the sweet side, with bland overcooked rice and refried beans. Remember: you eat with your eyes, first. Looking at this plate didn't make me want to eat anything. Tasting it even less. I was disappointed but hungry. C got these mini beef tacos that actually had a little green to them vs my plate of brown. I do give credit for the homemade corn tortillas though, which were tasty albeit a little dry. We ate quickly and left quickly, our exhaustion falling down on us in an instant. I had been talking about getting gelati or ice cream for most of the evening but there wasn't anywhere good that was open near us at this time. We did stop in a small cafe almost across from the hotel and ordered 2 large slices of cake, to go. Chocolate layered cake for me and a sweet cinnamon caramel cheesecake for C. We carried our weary bodies back up to our suite, collapsed onto bed after making a fresh kettle of tea, and dug into our cakes while watching the promo for a huge fight that was happening the next night. Substantially more sugar pumping back through our veins and our sore legs felt a little better from the hit. We stayed up watching the end of a beautifully filmed promo/doc and then slid into a deep, restful sleep.

 *   *   *   *   *

Sunday we had to switch from our apartment hotel suite in Montreal to a Hilton room Laval where my conference was taking place. The area in Laval where we were was nothing like Montreal. No culture, no history, just big box stores, malls, and pedestrian-unfriendly street. Our last meal alone was that day's lunch since I had to meet with the other marketing members for dinner that night. We decided to hunt down a Lebanese place since we had missed out in Montreal and settled on Amir's, which is a chain but was closer to our hotel than the other recommended places. Since we didn't have a lot of time, we went with proximity. Surprisingly, we were rewarded despite my slight apprehension. The food tasted fresh, healthy, and flavourful! I had a Falafal Plate that came with my choice of 4 sides! Oh, how I love choices! Tabbouleh, bean salad, couscous salad and marinated beets for me. C got the kebobs with garlic spread, pickled turnips (which I am always disappointed by the lack of at the Donair/Shwarma place near us), rice, salad and fries. Everything was wonderful and it was a lovely meal to share together. My fun in Montreal with hubs was over. Our one year anniversary was the Monday so we wouldn't see much more than an hour of each other that day, but the whole trip was a lot of fun and I cannot wait to go back!

Montreal: Day One

One would think that having a trip to Montreal scheduled would be highly anticipated, but with the amount of work we have both had, the busy schedules have definitely hampered the build-up of excitement. Luckily, after hectic late packing, unhooking and hauling up our hot water tank up cut-off basement stairs, we had wisely booked a 9am flight so we had time to get ourselves ready in the morning and eat breakfast without too much of a rush. The trip had been booked for our company's national marketing conference for Sunday night to Tuesday evening. Since our 1 year wedding anniversary fell on the Monday, C and I decided to fly out Friday and spend that day until Sunday evening together, when I had to go for dinner for business.

Once we arrived in Montreal, we took a cab ride to the hotel. We stayed at a place called L'Appartement Hotel, which is as it sounds. Our room was like a one bedroom apartment, with a living room, dining room, and kitchenette (which I love). We had a small balcony that overlooked a busy downtown street. The room was clean, the decor simple and outdated. We dropped off all of our luggage and by this point were getting pretty hungry. The plan was to walk to Schwartz's Hebrew Delicatessen. Open for over 80 years, this cornerstone of the Jewish community is a local favourite and the line is always out the door, spilling onto the street. This is such a normal occurrence, that it is the only venue on the street with an overhanging canopy coming off the building to protect waiting patrons from the elements. I had been regaling C with stories of this hole-in-the-wall deli where customers sit at long shared tables or at the counter on screwed down stools, tucking into tall stacks of fresh smoked Montreal meat. We found the address without much difficulty. True to form, there was a line out the door, with what sounded like a group of Irish tourists ahead of us and a young couple on a first date. One of the servers came outside, checking to see how large each group one "Vous-etes tous ensemble? You are all togethers?" "Non? You are 2? Come with me. To the counter, go." With that, we were bustled in ahead of the line, parked our wear selves onto the padded stools, and waited. The place was packed. Every table was full and 3 men were doing nothing but cutting up meat. Directly across the counter from us was a bread slicing machine. The stainless steel cabinet underneath this appliance was full of loaves and loaves of chewy soft rye bread loaves. Every time our server got a moment, he would place a loaf onto the slicer and the machine would vibrate, jiggling the bread through its blades, creating a perfectly sliced loaf of rye. Those slices were then stacked beside the meat slicers for creating huge sandwiches, or placed on the side of platters.

We ordered the required smoked meat sandwiches with a plate of fries on the side and 2 large kosher pickles. I forgot that they have different fat grades that you can order so ours both came as medium, the default. Doing it over, I would have had lean. Mustard and ketchup are the only condiments provided. Starving, we wolfed down the fries first and then dove right into the sandwich. I went with the method of adding mustard on a section, then taking a bite of the colossal meatiness. The pieces that kept falling out were looked after with quick stabs of my fork at the end. No morsel left un-devoured. The nice thing about this lunch was that it was satisfying but I didn't feel heavy after the meal. The portion was just right. We paid as soon as we were done eating and left since the restaurant's revolving door of clientele doesn't encourage lingering. As our bellies were feeling satisfied but not too full, we walked across the street to get some homemade ice cream in homemade waffle cones. The cones were harder than I've had at home and the ice cream was less sweet. We each tried a different type of chocolate ice cream, which was perfect, and I tried an amazing chai spiced scoop and C's second scoop was a raspberry cheesecake. We walked back to our hotel, enjoying our homemade creamy dessert.

Real Montreal Smoked Meat sandwich

With our typically hectic schedules, C and I rarely get much relaxed downtime. Travel days are always more tiring and after a long walk and a rich lunch, we decided to take a nap. We fell asleep and dozed for over 2 hours, lazily waking up, a little more refreshed. We bunkered in, watched what English TV we could find, and as night fell, we started getting hungry again. We had walked past the Quebec version of a Superstore on the way back from our first exploration of our little area so we decided to head back there for some ingredients. Since we had a kitchenette, the option of staying in for dinner on the night that we were most tired was a treat.

We walked down every aisle in the store and picked up ingredients as we went. We didn't know what we felt like eating, but we knew that we would be inspired as we saw what was available. Fresh local strawberries were the first thing I spotted and needed to try. none of these steroid sized strawberries from across the world, these were small locally farmed berries. Into the basket. Local pea leaves for salad, local yellow and red tomatoes, baby carrots...I couldn't get over how much of their produce was locally produced! I definitely wish our Superstore was more like this one. We decided that we'd do a salad with some sauteed veggies on the side. Protein was next. Another amazing thing about this store was that they had small inexpensive portions of fish and meat at this store. We could buy just 2 turkey and veggie sausages for $1.99, or for the same price, chorizo, or another choice of sausage. We could buy small pieces of tilapia, cob, haddock, salmon, etc. Again, if we had this option at our Superstore, then we could just buy the right portion for the 2 of us of a more expensive cut or variety for a reasonable price. We ended up getting fresh haddock as a second protein (our first being those turkey sausages), and some orange spice to coat it with. C grabbed some sun-dried tomato bread and bought a tub of sharp cheddar cheese, which he loves.

The ingredients

A rich treat of bread and cheese

We walked back to the hotel with our bags of goodies and started prepping dinner. We were both hungry so started snacking on the bread and cheese while we washed up the fresh tomatoes for the salad.

Local tomatoes

With the salad ingredients washed and chopped up, we started on the protein.

Beautiful fresh, ripe, produce

We decided that instead of cooking our fish in oil, that we would add go the French classic route and use butter. Butter is such a rich, flavourful ingredient that can make anything it touches taste amazing. Oh my, babcia would be proud!  I have to mention now that we toted this precious block of fat from Montreal to Laval and then back to Winnipeg with us. Yes, that is how obsessed I am with not wasting good food. 

Babcia, this is for you. Love M and C

A generous pat of butter was added to the hot pan and as it melted, its amazing aroma was released through our tiny kitchenette and suite. Once it was bubbling and starting to turn a golden brown, the meaty haddock fillet (which had been patted dry first) was gently placed in the pan. The fillet immediately began sizzling and cooking through. The sausages had already been cooked since they took longest and now this was the final part of the meal. The translucent flesh of the fish began to turn opaque white as it cooked. when the fish was cooked halfway through, I carefully turned it over using tongs, but even a gentle flip was too much for the delicate fish and some of the cooked portions flaked off into the butter. Mmmm, no harm done.

Fresh haddock coated in orange spice and cooked in butter

Vegetable turkey sausages and flaky fish

With the proteins crispy and hot, dinner was served. We were both so hungry and everything smelled amazing, I couldn't wait to dig in.

Juicy sausages (although we both agreed we should have bought some spicy mustard for them), flaky butter crispy fish, fresh vibrant salad and veggies, and crispy chewy bread with cheese. Nothing could have been better that night. It's a very confident feeling to  know that we can go to another city and whip up a delicious and comforting meal without too many ingredients or kitchen wares. I would consider this our 1 year anniversary meal. It's very "us". Simple, comfort food, well executed. We did so much cooking together while we were best friends. It was almost our form of dating. Getting to know each other through creating meals and moving seamlessly together through the kitchen together. Our relationship roots, for me, are deep in the kitchen. We would talk about everything and we definitely worked well as a team. We still do.



Our almost-anniversary meal

There was barely any room after such a wonderful meal, but there was just enough space for a few juicy bites of sweet, fresh, washed strawberries. A simple humble ending.

Local sweet strawberries

 Almost one year ago from this day, I married my best friend in an intimate and personal ceremony in front of my family and friends. That night, we took a picture of our hands together, showing the rings that we wore together for the first time. So, one year later, I thought that it would be fitting to take the same photo. It has been a very tough year for us with many hurdles and obstacles that we've had to carry each other over. We've made it through to the other side, not too worse for ware, still learning about each other and getting used to each other quirks and eccentricities. People say the first year of marriage is the hardest, and I can believe that. With all the changes and trials that come with living together as a married couple, getting used to habits, and forming a "working" relationship with your partner, stress is a normal reaction to such changes. Add onto that having close friends walk out of our lives right before our wedding, the lose of a job, both of us starting new jobs right after our honeymoon, C working up north about 3 out of 4 months before the wedding, me working on getting our house finished while he was away, lack of sleep, lack of time, building a house, moving out of my apartment, a death in the family...we have definitely had our share of trials in our first year. One of the biggest hurdles as well is perfecting the ability of two independent being to live a co-dependent life together. I think that we are doing quite well based on our current schedule with the house needing to be at a certain point before dinner. Long days, high stress, and lack of sleep definitely put pressure on a relationship, no matter how solid it is. Despite all of that, when we are able to take time to just be ourselves and be goofy together, we are amazing. That is what this Montreal trip brought out in us. Or true selves. Relaxed, with nothing to worry about or work on. Spending uninterrupted time alone together, away from our phones and email, is exactly what we need. An intimate recharge. So far, Day 1 of Montreal has been perfect. I wish that we could stay on vacation together forever!

One year later.











The Last Summer Escape

The trouble with doing the majority of your own construction labour when building a home is that weekend are no longer a break from the week, but they simply blend together as another 2 days that you wake up early and work hard. Long weekends are no exception. Usually, a long weekend just means that we have one extra day to work, or catch up one chores and errands. With all of the renovations/building we have been doing, we haven't been able to truly enjoy many weekends or get out of the city. I know that once our house is done we'll be able to attend events, or go to festivals, but for now, the summer really feels like it has gone by too quickly without enough fun. My aunt and uncle graciously extended an invitation to us to spend the Labour Day long weekend at their cabin in the Whiteshell. We were debating whether we should take the time away or not, but mentally and physically, I needed an escape from the city and from the house. A change of scenery and a forced slow-down might be just what we needed to refresh, recharge, and reconnect with each other. We decided to drive out Saturday late morning and come home Sunday night. With our trunk packed, our dog in the backseat, sleeping in her kennel, we spent a few hours on the road to arrive to paradise.

My aunt and uncle have done some major renovations on their cabin and it is absolutely gorgeous! Huge windows overlooking the lake, light coloured wood everywhere, huge comfortable pieces of furniture in the living room, surrounding a wood fire place, a huge open concept modern kitchen. If I was to have any cabin, I would want one that looked like theirs. We threw our duffel bags into the spare bedroom and took the dog down to see the lake. This was her first time on a beach and I was really excited to see how she would react to it. Very well, in fact. Especially when she found a rotting corn on the cob floating in the water. Puke. Which she did, after chewing on it. She would run into the water, stick her head under and swish it around, then jump out.



Butters, in true bulldog stance, enjoying her view of Jessica Lake

Alright, enough playtime, Mrs B. Time to do nothing! Luckily for our overly energetic beast, she had met her match in the form of my young hockey player cousin. I am not sure if he had met her before, and I think he found a new best friend. He chased her around the cabin until she was so tired that she would go into her kennel to try and sleep, but he'd find her and pull her out again and around and around they would go. It was one of the funniest things, seeing her playing with someone with as much energy as her. Her only reprieve came when my cousin would go play cribbage with his grandma. She would drag herself into her crate and immediately fall into a deep sleep until he was done his game.

Now that's a happy dog!

Another escape for B was my aunt. She used to have a doberman that she adored and they never got another dog after he passed. They have never had another family dog since then and I know that even though my cousins want to get a dog, my aunt wouldn't get another one. B was like her baby for the weekend. Whenever she would get sleepy, she would go to my aunt, who would pick her up and hold her like a newborn about to be burped. She'd coo "oh, my little bae-bee!!" and our dog was just taking full advantage of all of this cuddly love she was getting.

B being a huge suck with my aunt

Big. Sucky. Dog.

After much coaxing, C jumped into the lake! This next photo is actually the last in a series of quick photos. The previous ones are of a very hesitant hubby, looking back at me with a smile of uncertainty, head cocked to the side, debating what he should do. The water wasn't too cold, but very weedy and shallow so following that splash into the lake, hubs was done playing in the water. Unfortunately, the weather was rather cold all weekend so we didn't get out onto the lake at all. However, this cool weather provided the perfect vehicle for cozying up inside, reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Reading used to be a huge passion when I was a young girl and I have definitely strayed from this pass time since university. I think with all of the academic reading that you are forced to do in school, the time, energy and desire to read for pleasure isn't there. I'm slowly getting back into it and am having a great time when I am able to sit down and lose myself in another world.

C jumping in the lake, early morning

I went for a hike with my younger cousin's older sister, K, and her childhood friend. Getting to have some "girl time" was a really nice break for me, and enjoying the outdoors at the same time was bliss. It was really interesting to hear about their life perspective, thoughts and future ideas as they are both 8 years younger than me. They are in their last few years of university and starting to mentally prepare for entering the work force and looking for careers. Talk of moving out, how spending habits have changed, and K's long term relationship were some of the life events that were being discussed with youthful concern and careful thoughtfulness. It was an odd sensation to be the older "wiser" one of the group since I am usually the youngest in any group. I didn't want to be patronizing (matronizing if I am a woman?) but many of the worries or wonders they were bringing up, I had experience, good and bad, so I didn't offer advise, but more my take on things based on my experience. Both of those girls are smart, beautiful and driven women. While they come from well-off backgrounds and sometimes dress like the Gossip Girl generation, the have their heads on straight and their feet firmly planted on the ground. They are not superficial and have definitely thought about their futures as much as a responsible 20 year old would. I was actually a little surprised and in a really good way. I know that they will do fine.

The next morning, C and I took the mountain bikes out in the chilly weather and cycled for about 20 minutes or so, tandem, up and down the hilly highway. Despite my cold fingers, the ride was exhilarating with the hills and extremely liberating. It felt like all of the stress was being stripped from my body by the wind. The longer I rode, the less I felt worried or anxious about anything. The wind, the nature, the quiet. If we ever came into some money (serious money) I would definitely build a rustic but modern cabin somewhere on a lake, with neighbours far away and places to bike and hike.

Aside from a stress reliever, the biking and hiking were a necessity with all of the eating that we did. I think that my aunt and uncle see meals almost like a sport. Go big or go home. Everyone helped out with the cooking and each meal seemed to blend into the next. Breakfast ended and appetizers for lunch were already being prepared. Take out the fat pants! Breakfast was quiche, raisin bread, poppy seed bread, eggs, Persians (a cinnamon yeast donut from Thunder Bay that comes with a candy floss pink strawberry frosting), granola, milk, fruit salad etc.

C working on the fruit salad. My never ending coffee standing by.

On the Sunday night, the last night of our stay, a late dinner was planned with all of the current guests and soon-to-be-arriving ones. In total, there were about 17 people. Dinner prep was a very long process as trays were brought to and from the BBQ over the course of the evening. When everything was done, around 8:30pm, we all squished around the large dining room table, candles lit, warm enticing aromas wafting in every direction, and we dug in. Chicken wings, pork tenderloin, flank steak with chimichurri sauce, salad, corn on the cob, roasted vegetables and more were passed around. Dishes and flatware clinking, jostling of elbows, debates about which way a dish was to travel around the table, calls out for sauce and butter, and then finally, when all of the plates were filled. Silence. The sound of a successful culinary gathering. Mouthfuls of food followed by mmmmm's of enjoyment. Everything was delicious and everyone rolled away from the table, stuffed to the gills with wonderful home grilled cooking. It was already dark, so after a quick bite of dessert which we somehow found the last bit of room for, we loaded our duffel bags back into the trunk, our exhausted dog back into her kennel, gave our hugs and kisses of thanks and started the long drive home, back to reality.

Rested steak, being cut into serving sized pieces.

The candlelit dinner for 20

Dinner with Friends and Memories of Nana

A very dear friend of mine whom I met in university, just got engaged. The man she is marrying is a wonderfully funny person and just the right yin to her yang. Unfortunately, I don't get to see either of them very often as they live in Saskatoon. Luckily, they were coming into town for a week this summer so we had booked a Friday evening dinner and catch-up. My hubby and I planned a colourful healthy "vegetarian" dinner. My girl friend doesn't eat meat, but does eat fish, and her future-hubs is deathly allergic to shellfish but can eat fish as well, as long as it's washed first in case it came in contact with any of those nasty shellfish. We decided to do grilled salmon steaks for the protein. Veggies were sauteed zucchini and yellow squash with some balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. We also served boiled beets with olive oil, salt and pepper, and a fresh spring salad with sliced almonds, cranberries, and light goat cheese. Without even planning it, the meal became a culinary rainbow of abundant fresh flavours. Gorgeous. It is said that you eat with your eyes first, so I think we nailed the dinner. Everyone enjoyed the food, even the beet apprehensives of the audience.

Rainbow dinner

Dessert was kept light after the richness of the salmon steaks. Some cooked coconut pudding was layered with graham crumbs, light cool whip, and some sweetened shredded coconut that was lightly toasted in the oven. Simple, light, and tasty.

The only thing better than a meal that delights the taste buds is sharing it over engaging conversation with great friends. Bellies full, the guys went to the porch to let off some steam from a long week with a beer and cigar and myself and my friend took the dog for a walk to catch-up on the current news in our lives. The chatting went late into the night and it's always bittersweet to have to hug them goodbye at the end of the evening, but I always look forward to the next time we get to see them.

Light, fluffy, tropical dessert

*   *   *   *   *

The following morning was Saturday. You know what that means...pancakes! Hubs was super tired and I got up first. Motivated and with an idea to use up a couple leftover apples that were getting too soft for me to have any desire to eat, I started shredding up the fruit.

Shredded apples

The pancake batter was basic. Eggs, flour, milk, baking powder...I used cinnamon as my spice to give some extra punch to the apples.

Batter with cinnamon

Next, the shredded apples got mixed into the batter. No real recipe, I just figured that adding a couple shredded apples with do nothing more than add flavour and moistness to the pancakes. If it feels right, do it. Trust your instincts in the kitchen. Hey, if it doesn't work, no harm done, adjust for next time, live and learn.

Shredded apples added to the batter

The consistency looked right and the batter was thick enough to hold shape on the hot pan. I use either a ladle or a 1/4 cup measuring cup to judge the amount of batter I add to each pancake, to keep the sizing consistent. As a note, 1/4 of batter is what I use to make the perfect crepes.

Apple pancakes cooking

Flip the pancakes and don't press down on them. Let them puff up and rise to little golden beauties. Let them cook for a couple of minutes, then remove from the heat and serve immediately. Luckily, I woke up hubs right before I started cooking breakfast, so he was just in time to enjoy them hot from the pan.

Apple pancakes, almost ready to eat

The pancakes were done and hubs had his with syrup. Saturday mornings are always the best when our house is still quiet and we haven't started work for the day. We both take some time to eat a heartier breakfast together and it's a ritual that I very much enjoy. Do you have a meal ritual at home? If you have kids, nothing is better than doing a wholesome family breakfast on a Saturday or Sunday morning with the TV, computer, video games, cell phones, etc turned off and put away, sharing stories, memories and catching up on what's new in every one's life. Eat at the table as a family. Cherish those moments of simple pleasures and family bonding. I am a grown-up now (or so I'm told) and I still have fond memories of our uninterrupted family meals. Now, with a husband of my own and his family now my family, I have that many more people in my life to show love to through food. Come to my house for a brunch one day. I promise, you'll be inspired.

Apple Love pancakes

After savouring our warm hearty breakfast, I decided to prep some more food for dinner. We still have a lot of ground deer in the freezer, so I had thawed a package the night before, with the idea to make meatballs or meatloaf. Meatballs won out this time. Ground deer, an egg, panko crumbs, chopped onion, salt, pepper, fresh basil, and a dash of cinnamon and I started smushing the mixture together with my hands. I have to comment that on the top of my grossness factor list is touching and cutting up raw chicken (which I basically don't do anymore and leave the poultry to C). A close second however, is mixing up ground meat with my hands. The rings comes off (could there be anything more disgusting than getting ground meet stuck in the setting of a ring, under a diamond?), I take a deep breath, and just tell myself that it will all be over soon. It's for the greater good. Fresh homemade meatballs, no preservative, I repeat to myself. Shudder. Shape shape shape...little uniform spherical soldiers on the parchment covered pan. Ready to be baked into golden moist nuggets.

Homemade deer meatballs

Into the pre-heated oven and about 25 minutes later, out come gloriously crispy and tender meatballs. These went into the fridge after they had cooled for dinner later tonight.

Cooked meatballs

Dinner rolled around and what should I make? Oh, that's right. This prepared lady already had meatballs! I pulled out one of my favorite pasta shapes and popped them into a pot of rolling boiling water with some salt until al-dente. Different pasta shapes taste different. Yes, they do. Don't argue with me. I would really love to get some different pastas soon. I have not had wagon-wheels since I was a kid. I saw them at Goodies last time I was there so I might get those next time. I am a big fan of whole wheat pasta as well. Shells are yummy too.

A fantastic pasta shape

But what about those meatballs? you ask yourself. Well, those have been simmering in a pot of marinara sauce for a number of hours, getting extra moist and juicy. My mom and great grandma use to make meatballs this way. Simmering on the stove, soaking up the pasta sauce. My great grandma also used to do large chunks of stewing meat this way, slow cooked all day in marinara sauce for dinner with spaghetti. Nobody makes pasta or sauce the way she did. I miss her and I miss her cooking. It was hearty and make with so much love, you could taste it in every bite. She would always make the same thing. Amazing meatballs and stewed beef in her own pasta sauce, spaghetti in a huge bowl, salad with vinegar and olive oil, fresh baked cornmeal bread, fried chubby fingers of dough (I am at a loss now for the Italian name for these), a glass dish of black olives, pickles, and there would always be Sprite. My parents and brother and I would visit Nana almost every weekend and partake in this dinner. Dessert was almost always a marble Deep and Delicious cake, which looking back, just makes me smile with all her homemade food. She would always have a colourful dimpled metal cookie tin, filled with thin ginger almond cookies, Milan cookies, anise spice rings with sugar, and other Italian treats that her neighbour would bring over. Once in a while, Nana would make piniolatta (spelling?), or we would help her make it. It is a labour intensive dessert where a soft dough is made and shaped into long snakes, then cut into thumb sizes pieces, rolled into balls, and deep fried in batches. Once all of the little balls of dough were deep fried and drained, they would be mixed with a sweet honey mixture to hold them together. The balls would be placed on a pie sheet and formed into a cone. Like a beehive. The honey, holding the shape. Sliced almonds would be sprinkles on top. This was then eaten by placing the pan in the middle of the table, and everyone picking off pieces of sticky, crunchy fried dough. This was another example of the way Italian food was served. Eating was always a social event. Often, my brother and I would just snack on a slice of her dense homemade bread with sliced cheddar cheese on top, cooked in her little toaster over (which I believe I still have somewhere).

When my great grandma's dementia started getting too bad, she needed the constant care that she could only receive from a nursing home. Her house had to be sold to pay for the care, and I was silently heartbroken. The estate sale felt like a violation that I was allowing to happen, even as a kid. Possessions were divided up between the kids, and to this day, I wish that I had voiced the few items of hers that she wouldn't be taking with her that meant the world to me. Her colourful dimpled round cookie tin is gone. Inside that tin somewhere, holds the cooking secrets of the old country. The smooth Mother Mary sculpture that sat on her old TV shelf, with vivid blues and red of her cape, a golden orb in one hand and her foot crushing a snake, held deep spiritual meaning to me, despite my disconnect from organized religion. These 2 items, for me, most represented my great grandmother and I really wish that I could locate them. I have fading memories that I will try to hold onto, like writing this post has done.

Meatballs like Nana's

I would imagine that if Nana was alive today, that hubs and I would still be visiting on the weekends for the traditional dinner she would prepare. She would give me a fake grave look like someone had died as I informed her of something I was working on that she thought was silly, like going to the gym and lifting weight, and she would smack my husband hard but jokingly when he'd make a joke. I know that Nana and I would be cooking together and I would try and learn all of her secrets and recipes, and maybe she would even "steal" some of mine. I would bring over the Adam West Batman movie to put on in the background since those episodes would always be on when I was there. She would teach me how to have a garden the size of a jungle, and how to cast the evil eye on enemies. I would coax her into going out to the Italian market with me, and make her homemade ice cream if she wouldn't come out for some (although she used to enjoy Dairy Queen). I know C would have got a kick out of her fiestiness, for all of her 4'something frame. One of her favour things to say was "you can visit whenever you want!" and when we would ask her if we could have something or do something, she would famously say "whose going to stop you?"

The finished dinner: pasta and meatballs with salad

Nana, I promise that once the house is done and we have more space in our home, that I will host a big, loud, family dinner, with all the foods that you used to cook for us. I know that you'll take a front row seat and smile down, enjoying a meal in you honour.