Edible Tulip

Aspargus Tempura

In one of those "oops! I forgot the oven was on at 400 degrees F for an hour with something in it" moments, the outcome was suprisingly delicious. On Sunday night in NYC, my girlfriend and I were cooking a pasta dish and decided to serve roasted asparagus as a sort of side dish appetizer plate. I always like something on a beautiful dish in the middle of the table to pick up with my fingers as respite or compliment from the flavours of my main meal. I thought handling thick in season asparagus crisply done would be perfect. Only when we were tasting the pasta to check for its al dente doneness did I feel the heat from the oven and remember that my poor asparagus were roasting alive in 400 degree heat basked only in olive oil and coarse sea salt and no bowler hat to protect from the sun.

When I took the pan out of the oven, these poor asparagus looked slightly charred and barely green. They held their form all right but barely. I emptied them out onto a square plate and tasted one with the garbage bin open ready to toss them. To my surprise and delight they tasted like asparagus tempura - crisp, salty, slightly battered, a soft interior that felt airy and a satisfying oily sweet vegetable aftertaste.

New York City Weekend

This birthday, against all odds, turned out to be one of my favourites ever! The past 10 days have been a constant wave of celebrations and adventures and shared moments. I conquered fears (flying isn't a favourite and neither are large bridges), decided to go with my gut feelings and have been relishing that it all turned out so perfectly wondrous, and visited with dear friends in a different city where we had long moments together that pulled me out of the details of my own life and refurbished the idea that life is big and broad and beautiful.

I got my hair all chopped off and found a new apartment 2 weeks ago that I'll slowly paint and refurbish and move into over a 4 week period. These were two instrumental and elemental changes that got my momentum elevated and in wait for more.

After a delicious French bistro lunch last Thursday and a brief financially lucrative (U.S. money, ah ah!) birthday visit with my sister and her two babies on Friday, I dashed home to pack and drive to the airport for a 4 p.m flight. Being a Gemini, or just being myself, I forgot to weigh in the waiting times of Park 'n Fly lots. Wait. Wait. Wait. We all did, at the little terminal, in the large lot, as low flying planes swooped over us. I don't wear a watch by nature but I knew that my time was running out for catching jmy little plane to NYC. The shuttle bus, packed with people and luggage, made its way around the airport deciding to hit Terminal 2 last. I was the only person left on the shuttle as we sailed into my drop off destination. I forgot the customs form and had to go back from the gate. I got chosen for random baggage check inspection. They asked me to take off my shoes. Listen, I've got the face of a suburban 15 year old and the intent of a clam digger. They were wasting their time. After chatting briefly with my Texan US immigration officer I saw from upside down that my passport had expired two years ago. Um.

Celebrations!

The long weekend bore witness to many exquisite country sunsets. Saturday afternoon mom and I took a long hike in the woods on the Niagara Escarpment and we were surrounded by spring trilliums and violets. When we arrived back at the farmhouse, dad was in the garden working on his elaborate compost system, my sister and brother in law were busy entertaining their two babies and the dog rolled in the warm grass to the sound of peepers in the marsh. An old high school friend of mine showed up and we eventually moved inside to prepare dinner while this sunset lived out its ephemeral state over the fields.

On Sunday, Kyra (my 2 1/2 year old niece) and I spent an inordinate amount of time down by the ponds watching a male frog fertilize the eggs being constantly laid (in necklace like fashion, Kyra commented) by a female frog. In the evening, we went over to a neighbouring farm where the kids were taken on hay rides, food was served in pot luck buffet style and, as the temperature dropped rapidly, fireworks were lit.

On Monday, I trolled the city by car and then by foot and found myself a new apartment. I'm ready for a change. I am excited to change my pattern of being in Toronto. I want to move somewhere a little more tranquil where I walk home from the streetcar under towering leafy trees. I also want an apartment a little less refined than where I currently live: a place I can paint mandarin orange and bright citrus green and deep turquoise and make it feel like a cottage.

This weekend, in part to my parent's unbelievable generosity, I am off to New York City to celebrate my birthday in the company of best friends.

Today I was taken out by gracious co-workers to a lovely French bistro which is in walking distance from where we work. A few weeks ago we took another birthday co-worker out for an equally delicious yet entirely different meal to a well-known neighbourhood Indian restaurant that serves a wonderful and cheap buffet lunch. We work in a busy vibrant office with never-ending deadlines and our time together outside of the office in celebration is a great way to unwind, chat, eat and share stories.

I'll write upon return of the wonderful NY adventures I'm bound to have. The birds are in the trees and asparagus and fiddleheads are in the supermarket - enjoy!

Genetically Modified?

What's up with the pornographic tomatoes at my neighbourhood grocer coming out of Leamington, Ontario as per the origin on the cardboard box? I feel a little odd taking a knife to these slightly erotic fruits/vegetables, depending on your tomato stance.

The Unnamed Places

In unnamed, remote
Places, charming and lovely,
Wild-cherry blossoms!
- Goshun

Happy mother's day to all you folks who mother in some way or another!

Colourful Palate

Saturday night I wanted to cook something different and I guess by different I mean something I haven't tried before. I had had a 10-hour sleep the night before, something rare and elusive in my insomniac world, and I was beset with so much energy I didn't know what else to do with myself than search for recipes. The new Food and Drink magazine put out by the LCBO was on my kitchen table and when I leafed through it and saw pork medallions I thought "hmm, pork, haven't cooked that before" and set out to my local butcher.

I adore my tiny Bloor Street butcher. It has all the elements of neighbourhood living in a big city that I love so much: a global staff (two small aged Italian men and one Argentinian, odd seemingly animal loving posters on the walls, rustic old European artifacts cluttering small shelves, a small glass enclosed fridge space with a range of fresh cut reasonably priced meats, another fridge with enormous chunks of fresh parmesan and rounds of blue cheese and fresh pesto jars and the friendly informative non-threatening no-airs manner that people who love and respect what they do often emote. Since they had sold out of pork tenderloin, I settled on 3 nicely proportioned pork chops. I bid "Adios" and waved bye to rounds of "Ciao Senorita" and moved on to the next stop.

There are two green grocers in my neighbourhood and I shop at both. One has very cheap produce so if I'm only buying vegetables I'll shop there and the other has an extensive Latin American and Asian dried goods section so if I'm doing a combination shop I'll shop there instead. I bought dried bread crumbs, a butternut squash and a bagful of pole beans. I also bought 3 Mutsu apples. Dinner I had decided was going to be pork chops marinated in milk and then dredged in bread crumbs with herbs and fried in a pan, baked squash, fried beans with whole cloves of garlic and coarse sea salt, and homemade tangy applesauce.