Olive ascolane

Every Christmas and Easter, my mother makes olive ascolane. It's labour-intensive to make, but this regional appetizer is one of the most delicious things you could imagine.

Picture it: three kinds of meat are delicately sauteed and then shaped into balls, which are then wrapped round with the flesh of a pitted green olive.

The ball is then breaded and deep-fried. [drool] The key is to eat them hot. In the past, my brother and I used to stand on either side of my mother as she did the deep frying, ready to pluck the olives from the strainer as soon as humanly possible.

Trust me, having burnt fingers was nothing compared to the sensation of juicy olive and meat melting in your mouth.

As a mostly-vegetarian since 2007, I have become immune to my mother's many meaty treats, but there is something irresistible about these morsels. So every Christmas and every Easter, I shove my meaty objections to the back of my mind and indulge in a few olive ascolane.

If only they weren't so delicious.... Did I mention that they're deep fried?

I feel guilty. Can I bake you something?

In the past, whenever I lost it with a project manager (or two, or three... ahem), I would generally apologize the next day by making them the most delicious lemon loaf ever. Not only was it an effective way of saying sorry, but it also made them less reactive during my next (inevitable) temper tantrum over preposition use.

It's a damn fine loaf!

Since I only have three days remaining at 90 Degres, the guilt over leaving my darlings is heavy. I'm going to miss them very much. To show my love and appreciation, I baked them vegan gingerbread cookies (in the pic) and toasted coconut shortbreads.

I think they were well received.

Palanca's mock shepherd's pie

In trying to find a suitable substitute for meat-based shepherd's pie, I found a few recipes for a lentil-based version.

I played around with some of the flavours and came up with the following. Let me know if it works out for you - or if you have any further suggestions for making it even better.

PREP TIME: Little more than an hour.

1) In a medium-sized pot, pour two cups of green lentils into four cups of water. Add a veggie bouillon cube. Let the lentils boil for approx. 40 minutes, or until they get soft. You will probably have to add more water.

You might want to start preparing the potatoes right now as well. See #4.

2) In a frying pan: one medium-sized onion (diced) and two cloves garlic (crushed). You can even toss in a few sliced mushrooms for added flavour. Saute the onion and garlic with fresh thyme, as well as cumin and coriander. When the onions are soft, add the lentils. Mix the lentils and onion mixture with salsa or tinned tomatoes.

3) Lay the lentils on the bottom of a casserole dish. Open one can of corn and toss the kernels on top.

4) Peel and cube one large sweet potato and four medium-sized potatoes (yellow is best). Boil the cubes for approx. 30 minutes. Mash up the taters with butter and brown sugar. Layer the potatoes on top of the corn and lentils.

5) Place casserole dish in preheated 400-degree oven for 15 minutes. Then broil for 5-7 minutes for extra crunchiness on top. Like a nice brown crust? Add some curls of butter before the broil.

Serve hot, hot, hot!

*Snap borrowed from Made-in-China.com.

Emotional snowballing

Ladies – does this sound familiar?

* A project/situation/person at work is frustrating you.
* It drags on. You begin to doubt your abilities.
* You start eating a little sugar in the afternoon. Maybe add (more) coffee.
* You live alone so you don’t get a chance to vent in the evenings.
* You’re suffering from man confusion.
* As you mull over the absurdity of it all, your calorie count gets upped in the evenings too (how many calories in a gin/tonic?).
* You’re so busy going in circles, you miss a workout or two. Or six.
* You survive weekend. However, frustration/man-fusion resumes on Monday.
* Repeat everything.
* You start feeling fat.
* You start dressing down a little, so you can lie in bed and mull more.
* The girls on So You Think You Can Dance Canada have exquisite thighs. Sigh.
* You start feeling *really* fat.
* Everyone else seems to be dating the nicest, most attentive, most sexually ravenous man ever.
* Your friend gets a promotion. Much rolling in money ensues.
* You start feeling like an ogre. And a teensy bit of a failure.
* A little more sugar. A little less exercise.
* D-e-s-p-a-i-r

Emotional snowballing has been the downfall of many a fine, strong woman. Over the years – on more than one occasion - I’ve suddenly snapped to attention, dazed to find myself rolled up in a snowball of my own making. The factors, having accumulated so gradually and without pomp, overwhelmed me before I even recognized what was happening.

I also used to think that – at some point in my life – I would achieve such a comfortable state of being – that I would stop getting caught in the emotional snowball.

The emotional snowball happened to the weak, no?

No.

The best thing that yoga has taught me is that the snowballing will probably never stop, so you had better learn how to roll and come out with a flourish.

I’m halfway through an emotional snowball right now, but I’m trying not to let it become too much of a distraction.

The trick is, now I see it coming.

So I’m eating with a little more mindfulness.

I returned to my yoga practice after a too-long hiatus.

I’m taking time for myself when I need it.

I’m thinking more before I speak.

Any other suggestions? What do you do to escape your emotional snowball?

Fotos: Waupoos Estates Winery, Prince Edward County, Ontario

Cherry tomatoes

It has been a rotten day. Mostly.

I add the "mostly" because blanket statements are inaccurate - and ultimately harmful. Even on the worst of days, if you are open to looking, you'll find moments of lightness.

As I drove to NDG tonight, muttering angrily to myself, I resolved to find something about this day that I could love. At first I tried to think of something that might cheer me up, but after a few minutes, I decided to just let the happy find me.

And it did, in my mother's garden, when I spotted these cherry tomatoes strung along the vine like lanterns. I also saw some baby eggplants further back that looked pretty happy - but I was deterred by a mammoth spider web.

I can't wait til the cherry tomatoes have ripened. Bet they're going to taste like happy too.

On becoming a better cook

People assume that because I am Italian, I must be a great cook.

Although this has not always been the case, my skills in the kitchen had improved considerably in the last few years thanks to (a) becoming vegetarian, (b) buying my own home, and (c) tips from Jamie Oliver.

Before moving to the Plateau, I lived in an apartment located in a quaint (but remote) residential area wedged between NDG and Lachine. This alone gave me every reason in the world not to cook.

1) Recipes are generally dosed out for four portions. As any person who lives alone can tell you, making a standard recipe is condemning yourself to a week of the same dish. At least if I had friends to share the food with, I might have been more enthusiastic, but...

2) Since none of my friends lived in the neighbourhood and found travelling there a great inconvenience, I rarely had visitors. It was far easier - and more pleasant - to drive out and meet them in a restaurant.

So then I moved. And become a vegetarian.

Now that I had a fabulous new home, in close range to many friends, I want to lure them to my home with promises of homemade pizza dough or asparagus lemon mint risotto, so a 4-portion recipe no longer seems daunting. If you cook it, they will come.

Even though I was initially worried that becoming a vegetarian would limit my range, it forced me to become more creative. In fact, it made me a more mindful cook. Instead of grilling a slab of chicken and covering it with a layer of salt, I now had to find new ways to make broccoli tasty. Even tofu (it turns out) is quite tasty if you know how to season it right.

So I've been experimenting and researching, and learning how to improvise, and the results are increasingly exciting. I am more attentive to the food I eat, my mind remembering which flavours blend well together and my tastebuds recording reactions for later reference.

The following list contains the discoveries that have helped me most in my journey to being a better cook. Perhaps readers might be so kind as to add some discoveries of their own.

• Fresh coriander. Adds a fresh flavour to food that it's blander cousin parsley cannot provide.
• Use red, orange or yellow pepper instead of green. The price per pound is fairly inexpensive if you shop in fruiteries and you don't need to use a lot to add some serious flavour to your food.
• Lemons and limes. A squish of lemon or lime juice - even the zest - adds a freshness to salads, marinades and sauces that lifts the flavour instantly.
• Marinades. Stop rolling your eyes - marinades are not hard to make. If you can make a simple salad dressing, then you can make a marinade for vegetables, tofu or meat. I quickly got tired of eating steamed vegetables with salt, so I started playing around with marinades. I make a simple marinade for veggies (before tossing them on the BBQ) which consists of garlic, coriander, fresh ginger, sesame oil, lime juice, and salt. Squisito!

Now, of course, I'm hungry.

Why we love Jamie Oliver

I was looking through my cookbooks for a good risotto recipe, and I found a great one in Cook with Jamie.

I'm a big fan of JO. And not just because of his Bottoms Up Mugs.

So what's the big deal with Jamie Oliver, you ask? Why do all the ladies get a little giggly at the mere mention of his name?

It's not because he's famous.
It's not because he's cute.
It's not because of the adorable lisp.

It's because he really loves what he does and he gets crazy excited about it. He really believes in what he's doing and isn't afraid to take risks now and again.

That, is hot.

Update

Yoga teacher training is three sleeps and two work days away - and I am *so* ready.

The bedroom is finally painted, and my nest is warm and feathered. I've moved all the furniture back in. Installed the drapes. Bought a bitchin' new alarm clock. I look forward to the massive amounts of sleeping I'll be doing there during training.

I know the difference between medial and lateral rotation, why bowlegged people are bowlegged, and that the radius crosses the ulna when the hand pronates.

I have done all my laundry and discovered that I'll need one more yoga outfit to get through the month. I'll need to swing by lululemon tomorrow to check out new pants and a top. What do they put in their clothes? Cocaine?

I really am going to miss my coworkers. To compensate (i.e. make sure they miss me),  I made them lemon loaf for this morning and chocolate cupcakes for tomorrow morning. You'd be amazed how long it took to find a simple recipe for chocolate cupcakes.

T's have been crossed. I's have been dotted. Bring on the learnin'!

Realistic package labeling

I think it's time for food companies to give consumers more realistic package labelling, don't you?

For example, the package of Crispy Minis (salt'n'vinegar) I purchased for lunch gives the following breakdown:


Now here's an example of what I would like to see on packaging of certain food from now on:

Who eats just 14 chips?

Food hangover

Wow-o-wow do I feel yucky today. Mild headache. Lack of energy. Sun stings my eyes. A little bloaty. When I blink slowly, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. Big pimple on my eyebrow. And I attribute it solely to the wild day of eating I enjoyed yesterday (oh, so good!)

Yesterday started with a late breakfast with Gillian. In the short (yet sweet) two hours we spent together, Gillian and I shared a big pot of coffee (which I hardly ever consume) laced with cream, three superb pastries, juice and a box of strawberries.

By noon, since the day had started off so well, I decided that I might as well make a day of it. Sure, I went to yoga and attended a three-hour workshop about ayurvedic detoxes, but they were tiny blips in my day of gluttony. I would not be deterred!

At seven, I went to a mass potluck at a friend's house in NDG. The first few hours were like an orgy. Margaritas, beer, homemade guacamole and salsa, asparagus dip, and a seemingly endless supply of corn chips (my Waterloo, damn you Tostitos!). Lime wedges everywhere... Then came the fajitas for dinner, followed by apple crumble pie and (did I imagine it?) Creamsicle-flavoured ice cream.

No foodstuff was safe. Everyone left looking a little dishevelled and ashamed when they left. I tried to stay up a little later to digest but to no avail...

So now I have a food hangover. I know I'm supposed to vow that I'll never do it again - but seriously? Who would believe me?

Waiting in line

What happens to people when it comes to waiting in line?

Whether it be at the bank, the P&A or IKEA, there's a crazed flicker in the eye of every man or woman that approaches the cash area.

We've all had the thoughts before.

"Which line is moving faster?"

"The customers in that line have too many items."

"I'll stand in this line, you stand in the other line - we'll see who gets to the cash first."

"Cashier changing! But I committed to the other one!"

"COUPONS! Are you kidding me?"

Is there any other "everyday" place where human stress is so quickly manifest? And where it's so unnecessary to boot? It's like everyone's in The Amazing Race. Even once they're in the best-perceived line-up, customers are still twitchy and looking around in case they have to make a last-minute change.

"I always get in the slowest line!"

Waiting in line is like everything else in life. You choose a line, sometimes it moves quickly, and sometimes it doesn't, so you might as well relax and enjoy the scenery. Flip through a magazine. Watch the domestic spats unfold in the fruit section. Imagine what people are going to do with all that stuff. Compose a poem!

Are you really in such a rush to get to the pharmacy next... and wait in line some more?

Making, not buying

This past weekend, the mother of a friend asked me what my mother had taught me to do in the kitchen. I told her about the years spent helping to make pasta and bread and sausages. Then she admonished me, saying that I should only learn to make the things that I can't buy.

"All those years that my sister and I made tortellini into the middle of night, it wasn't because we wanted to, it was because we couldn't buy them anywhere. Now that you can buy pasta, why would you make it?"

I didn't reply properly at the moment because my mouth was busy deconstructing some fruit, but here is my full response now.

It's a health thing. Although there are many grocery stores, brands and eateries that I trust, there are three times more stores, brands and eateries that I don't. When you make something yourself, you can choose quality ingredients that you can feel good about. You know what's going into your food... which is not something you can say most of the time.

It's a social thing. There is great pleasure in creating food and eating it together. I don't make everything that I eat, but sometimes it's a nice excuse for bringing people together. Even if she did make tortellini all night long - she was doing it with her sister.

It's working with your hands. Understandably, this woman works with her hands every day and it must be a pleasure to just buy the stuff and give the digits a break. But for the rest of us that make our living staring at computer screens and tapping at keyboards, it's a pleasure to switch skill sets and make something with our hands instead. When my work day is drawing to an end and I'm exhausted between the ears, I long to clear my head by plunging my hands into soft dough.

And lastly, the food just tastes better.

Palanca made bread!

Knorr's Colourful Soups

Although it's true that most of us can only name freezies by colour, rather than flavour, I find this concept to be far more alarming when it applies to soups.

Soups are promoted as nutritious. Also, they are not marketed to children who admittedly (at a certain age) recognize colours far better than fruit names. So is the new Knorr soup line the ultimate dumbing-down? Is it really so hard to remember the name of soups?

Furthermore, the vague ingredients of each 'colour' are very alarming. Why can't they be more precise in their marketing materials?

Should they be really called floor-sweepings soups? Are these soups the 'hot dogs' of the soup world? I'm going to warm up a Bagel-ful while I think about it....

Fail!

Outside St-Eustache, Quebec

Sign spotted at an ostrich farm yesterday.

Are they serving ostrich meat hot dogs?

If so, why does the ostrich look so happy?

Do they de-feather the ostrich before turning him into a hot dog?

Is there really that great a demand for ostrich meat?

Doesn't this scare the children??

Or do they dress up the ostriches?

What other costumes are available?

Can I see an ostrich dressed up like a clown?

New Facebook status line: Sidney will have the ostrich - with fries on the side.

In Montreal, Quebec.

Seen on the CBC during Coronation Street

I'm sorry... is Borat now working in the Nivea Marketing Department?

Anyone else find Happy Time to be awkward and not-quite-English?

New Facebook status line: Sidney is enjoying some Happy Time in the shower.

KRAFT Bagel-fuls

Excuse me - but just how hard is it to slice a bagel and spread some cream cheese? Does it really cause that much mess and stress? Are toaster-related accidents on the rise? Won't it take just as much time to thaw the Bagelful? And do we really need more packaging? How much fat is in one of those monstrosities?

Can I please stop being treated like a moron by big industry?

If frozen-tubular bagels aren't a sign of the apocalyse, they should be.

Are those locusts I see coming over Mont Royal?

HBO commercial

...but first let me tell you what I had for dinner.

And if you think dinner is not blog-worthy, then you're no friend of mine. A slice of warm bread is heaven in your palm. Eat enough strawberries and you will see God. Peanuts are golden nuggets of flavour. Coconut sorbet will be served at my funeral. If naan bread were a man, I'd marry it. Capisch'?

So are you ready for this?

Penne with sautéed kale and pine nuts, served with a generous dusting of Parmesan. Yeeeaaahh.

Thanks for your patience. Now watch this HBO spot...

Lullabies for Little Criminals

Powell says to me the other day, "Do you feel like ice cream?"

I replied, "Oooh, yes! When are we going to Ottawa?"

So me, Powell and Mani went to Ottawa today. The plan was to (a) have lunch at La Bodega, and (b) sit in a park and read while roasting in the sun. Of course, in the excitement of getting her favourite sandwich in a rosemary-dusted whole wheat focaccia, Palanca forgets her book in the car. An excellent excuse, she reasons, to go into Chapters and pick up Lullabies for Little Criminals by Heather O'Neill, another Montreal author.

(Ms. Julie is always on duty).

Heather O'Neill makes me want to cry - like a lot - because somehow, she's already managed to get the life that could be mine.

• Published, highly-successful debut novel
• Prize-winner respected by her peers
• Sharing her life with an equally creative partner
• Nice hair

We both grew up in NDG. We're of the same age. Maybe my life was too cushy...

Anyway, when we finally sat on a grassy knoll near the National Gallery of Canada and I cracked open the spine, it was a rush of pleasure to discover just how beautifully Heather O'Neill writes. I even added little stars next to this next passage:

There was something inhuman about her, suddenly, as if when she opened her mouth and tipped it backward you would see mechanical inner workings, like a little dumb weight instead of a tonsil.

Oooh, she's an incredibly talented writer, I realised, that's why she has that life...

I will set myself to my work again this week. I can't do anything about the hair, but I can write, dammit.

My flavours at Pure Gelato - I know you were wondering - lemon and mango. Yummsy.

It's not that funny, people.

Ho deciso di scrivere un articolo in italiano. Lo so che la maggior parte di voi non capite l’italiano, allora lo farò breve.

Ho visto un annuncio pubblicitario per il ristorante Mikes. In quest’annuncio vediamo une bimba che dice, “La gondola, papi? Capisce?”

Io non capisco perché tutti pensano che “capisce” è una parola cosi buffa.

Abbiate visto troppe puntate di “The Sopranos”?

Smetila!

(Google translate)

Hello Vitamin Water!

Whenever I go to the U.S, there are two products that I immediately procure:
1) Orbit gum (mint mojito, if I can help it)
2) Vitamin Water

Not only are we Canadians being deprived of two really delicious products, but now I also discover that the Vitamin Water website kicks our Canadian asses design-wise as well. The site is so bee-yoo-ti-ful, I wish I could make out with it.

Why aren't we producing websites like that?

Or commercials like these, for that matter:



Oh, Snoop, you're so wacky!