deciphering messages

July 7, 2010July 8, 2010 ~ carin ~ 2 Comments

Funny the domino effect of things.

Or whatever it is.

Yesterday I read Rona Maynard’s musings and reflections on ice cream. Today the stuff is everywhere I go. On CBC this morning with Matt Galloway. On the side of the semi that pulls out in front of me and makes me say bad words as enormous tubs of vanilla, cherry, chocolate, pecan-swirl momentarily tower over me—I can’t remember the brand.

And, oh look, there it is again on a sign that I’ve probably passed ten or twenty thousand times on my way to the place where I buy happy meat and eggs and the best butter tarts I’ve ever tasted—but I’ve never noticed the great honking strawberry cone before.

Most bizarrely of all, it’s in my mum’s fridge.

Three individual servings of vanilla and butterscotch, untouched and melting. So instead of making the usual oatmeal or toast for her breakfast, which has been getting little or no reaction recently, I pour the ice cream into her coffee, then pour some more over canned peaches.

She laps it up, asks for seconds.

She’s almost ninety. What can it hurt?

A recent stroke has left her unable to do much for herself and this gets her down—everyone ‘doing’ for her, helping her dress and wash, preparing meals. She recently stopped enjoying food entirely, so when I see her licking her fingers, everything makes sense, the semi, Matt Galloway, Rona Maynard—it occurs to me there’s a message in all these ice cream sightings—ie. life is too bleeping short for oatmeal every morning—at least give the poor woman a dollop of coffee toffee mocha crunch with it…

And of course it makes complete and perfect sense.

Funny indeed how these things work.

here’s to fresh food and farmers

June 16, 2010June 17, 2010 ~ carin ~ 3 Comments

The picture doesn’t do this bounty justice. All of which was less than seventeen bucks. And yes, that’s the last of the asparagus (sad to say goodbye—it’s been sooo good). The first (for me) of the strawberries—which, by the way, I learned recently, are best picked and eaten in the morning when the dew’s still on them—just in case any of you are heading out to a strawberry patch in the coming dewy days.

To the left, a pile of mini hothouse cukes, most of which got left out of the snap. (Tomatoes are also hothouse; I normally wait for vine-ripened, but it was my first day at the local farmers’ market, the sun was shining, and, well, I had a mad moment…)

From the garden, there’s this—

I’m slightly insane about salads. They would be my preferred last meal were I to face a firing squad and be offered a choice.

This one includes nettles, dandelion leaves, mesclun, arugula, lambs’ quarters and purslane. Oh, and nasturtium leaves and flowers for oomph and a peppery je ne sais quoi-ish quality that never hurts and is not hard on the eyes.

Also garlic. I couldn’t resist pulling one from the still ripening crop. Normally the ‘First Garlic Bulb of the Season’ is almost a ceremonial event around here. Not this year. I just yanked one out and diced a few perfect, crisp, translucent, completely-unlike-the-stuff-from-China cloves, then topped the whole schmozzle with my favourite dressing: olive oil and fresh lemon juice.

Anyway, definitely oodles to choose from at this time of year, right from our own ‘backyard’. (It’ll be months before I step inside a grocery store again, except to buy detergent and sardines.)

niagara grapes & guilt and more grapes please

June 7, 2010July 6, 2012 ~ carin ~ 5 Comments

Being originally from Niagara I’m wired to think it’s a kind of viticultural sin to eat grapes from anywhere else and normally I don’t. I very happily wait for the deep purple Coronation ones of September, which every year take me back to an abandoned vineyard I used to walk through on my way to school, picking whole bunches en route.

This year I’ve even planted my own crop (oh that’s rich—my crop—who am I kidding? the birds and squirrels are already huddling, scratching out complicated plays in the cedar mulch)—a single seedless dark purple called Mars.

But I digress.

The point of this post is confession.

I wouldn’t normally eat grapes outside grape season—much—but having recently been to Chile and fallen in love with the country, I’ve been making some [many] off-season exceptions.

So sue me.

Question: If a grape falls in a Chilean table grape forest, and there’s only one semi-remorseful Southern Ontarian there to hear it—does it make a sound?

can we all just get along?

May 17, 2010August 23, 2013 ~ carin ~ 2 Comments

So the woman down the street says this damn rabbit, have you got rabbit problems too, it’s a complete nuisance, look what it did to the bark of this tiny sapling over winter, it was just planted in the Fall, can you imagine?

I ask does she mean can I imagine being clever enough to fend off starvation by finding a tender sapling to eat amongst all the concrete…

She doesn’t answer, continues, tells me that’s not all, now it’s after the just planted snapdragons.

I say aren’t you supposed to wait until the 24th?

She says, her lovely display of varying heights and colours, all planned and perfectly arranged, which would have filled out to become a striking focal point beside the goldfish pond, is ruined. She points at holes where clumps should be, makes fists and says this can’t go on, something must be done! She looks around the yard, helplessly, hopefully (yearning for a rabbit sheriff to stroll by with bunny handcuffs?).

I suggest we stop building subdivisions where woodland used to be, we’re confusing the wildlife, we’re in their backyard not the other way around. In fact, I say, they’re pretty reasonable about sharing it with us, wouldn’t you agree—notice how they don’t eat all the snapdragons…