Dick Stories

I have a few uncles who are not uncle by blood or marriage but by circumstance. My uncle Neil is one of those uncles. He has been a friend of one of my other uncles, Jerry, and my dads “since before I was a twinkle in my old pop’s eye,” as they might say. The four of us are all crazy about fishing.

My first, and only so far, deep sea fishing trip was with these two uncles and my dad. We went fishing for marlin of the coast near Cabo San Lucas. In the weeks leading up to the trip there were many emails arranging plans, generating excitement and such. In a lot of these emails a man named Dick, a good friend of Uncle Neil’s, is cc’d. Dick is often cc’d in emails regarding fishing trips that circulate among us, and we are often cc’d in emails from and to Dick. Some of the most entertaining bits of reading I have enjoyed are the outrageous fishing stories/bantering between “Dearest Dick” as my uncles so dearly call him and good ol’Uncle Neil. We’ve come to call them “Dick stories.”

Neither myself nor my dad have ever met Dick face-to-face, but we have a sort of connection and a healthy fisherman’s rival going between the five of us that has grown through the Dick stories. Well six of us now. My uncle Jerry just took my aunt Donna, my dad’s big sister, fishing for marlin last month in Cabo. So she is now also in on the rivalry.

Since 2010 there have six trips, between us all, to Cabo for the soul purpose of catching at least one humongous marlin. At this point any of us would be happy with a marlin fry. Neil is the only one of us who has ever actually seen one of these beasts alive and on the end of a hook, let alone in a boat and claimed. Here is one of the most recent Dick stories that was a response to a picture of an uncomfortable spear fishing mishap that was sent around to the rivalry. (A spear through the cheek, and not the cheek on a face if you know what I mean…)

Dearest Dick: No, it's not me. I can't imagine a spear penetrating my chiseled ass. But I do know who the shooter may have been. Dawn and Jerry are in Cabo right now and given Jerry's angling prowess I can believe he's down there trying to shoot one. Can you imagine if Dawn is to catch a marlin or practically anything for that matter, she will surpass Jerry's success rate to date. And if we hear he has caught something I can only imagine Dawn's just allowing him to claim it in order to save face around the rest of us fisherman, Ken, Jenn and I that is. Unless you caught some tommycots or carp in the canal by your house this winter, I believe your "fisherman" card has been revoked by now. Maybe this year you'll have a chance to get out so we can show you how it's done, just for old times sake. I hope you get home safely and that your furniture made its way from the ice fishing shanty back into your house. The ice is looking dicey. Let me know when you're home. P.S. I've been on overtime sleeptime 3 nights now 14 hours each and there's at least 2 more coming. Yes, you can thank me for keeping the power getting to your house. 

Our first trip all-together (minus Dick), with Neil, Jerry, Dad and myself, we had high hopes. We were certain that we would come back with our coolers full of marlin and perhaps even have to buy another cooler or two to bring all of our spoils home. We didn’t catch a single marlin. I caught a rooster-fish and my dad caught a mako shark. We let the rooster-fish go but the shark… well they are not so easy to catch and release – He was delicious.

Near the end of our week there we decided to stay close to shore and try for sierra. Neil stayed back but Dad, Jerry and I caught our limits in these tasty white-fish and had most of it smoked to bring home. 

That smoked sierra was probably the only reason my mom let Dad go back to Mexico with Neil to try again for marlin. He had to promise to bring her more smoked sierra though. This was the first email I got from them on my dad’s second trip.

 Hola Jenn: We went with Simpson (Ramone) and Fidel on Gricelda today. The tuna fishing has been real bad the last few days but we told them we were prepared to run the 20 or 30 miles to find them. It started slow as the dolphins we fished had no tuna with them. We ran out further and found another school at around 15 miles. We got our first action and hooked 4 yellowfin immediatly. By the end of the day we had 10 fat tasty tuna but it wasnt without casualty. Your father forgot to bring his his elbow brace and as he was too stubborn to admit to defeat he reeled in his share of the catch. With his elbow aching, his glowing base tan, his foot chaffed raw from his sandals added on to the tossing of the boat in the light gale force winds it turned out to be a tough day. Once again it became painfully aware this is no pastime for the ordinary man. When we got to the dock we tooka piece of tuna to Solomons where we will go later for sashimi and sushi. We made it bact to our hotel and as soon as we had cracked a beer your Dad layed down to rest his beaten body. Two things happened at that point. First, he immediatly fell asleep. More importantly, the whimpering ceased. I hope Im able to coax him out of bed later when its time for tuna. At least your uncle isnt here as Im sure hed be in even worse condition. We head out again tomorrow morning providing of course your Dad can move his arm and walk to the boat. I have a feeling there may be but one big tuna wheeled up the dock after our trip. Take care Jenn. Over and out from Cabo.


Neil

There were no marlin to be had on that trip either. Their guide suggested they try for some tuna. I’ll let Neil tell this one, addressed to Dearest Dick but, as usual, sent to all members of the rival:

Dearest Dick: I have no reason to disbelieve your claim to catching a 300 lb catfish, however a picture would be an assuring accompanyment. I also cannot send any reassuring photos but I can describe the one that got away. Visualize....Ken and I in the back of the boat on Wednesday morning, the sun and wind on our bronzed hardened bodys as we are surrounded by leaping frenzied dolphins and yellowfin tuna. The rods bend over and start to sing. We pounce like cats and shout our instructions to the bewildered crew as we bring them one by one to the gaff. But Ken has tied in to a leviathan that goes deep and stays down for the next hour plus. 30 lb line and rod are tested to their limit and whenever Ken gets some line back the fish is quick to regain it and then some. Finally it starts to come up and after much battling back and forth its 30 feet off the side the boat. We estimate him at 70 pounds but the scars and broken gaff hooks in his side show he is no ordinary tuna. Just when we are convinced its in the bag the line goes limp for no reason and he gives us one last snear before swimming off to freedom. It could have been worse. Had Jerry been on the rod he´d be lying on the floor in the fetal position, whimpering from the pain of the fight and defeat. 
 We have had several feeds of fish and I for one have a new appreciation for tuna, especially sashimi and the way they blacken it while being raw in the middle. Fantastic. 
 Must go now as Ken needs to eat as he´s not quite recovered from his beating. Adios amigos. Dearest Senor Dick. We would love to send you pictures from our fishing ventures but you must comprendo this is but a poor fishing village and does not have the technology to do such a thing. As you know I would never embellish a fishing story and you can take my word as fact. We only got 3 tuna yesterday but they were the grandest of the trip and quite frankly there was no more room in the boat with them on the deck so we came in early. We are finished fishing now which is good as Ken keeps slipping in and out of consious as catching tuna of that size is phisically demanding even for men like ourselves. Hope the snows not too deep in Brownsville and your canals not froze over. Senor Neeeeeil.

Leading up to my Aunt Donna’s trip there was much “piss-taking” towards my dad about his sister catching a marlin before him.

Hola Amigo: I was fishing yesterday on Dr. Fish, a panga that was arranged by Grace. As Francisco was booked she told me it was a good boat. I young guy named Himee met me and led me to the boat. His padre who is the Captain was waiting there. Himee was the mate and as they were junior and senior..........his father´s name was Himee. (You remember from Get Smart?) Anyway they told me there were no dorado around as the waters gotten colder but there may be tuna as they prefer the cooler water, which I was not aware of. We first went out from Los Arcos to 250 feet of water to try for Yellowtail, not to be confused with yellowfin. A wise old fisherman (okay, Dick) once told me how he was taught by an old indian how to catch lake trout when they´ve gone deep. I originally just thought this was just another "Dick Story" but found out it actually had some truth behind it. Get your lure to the bottom then crank like hell to retrieve your lure as fast as you can half way to the surface then put it back down and try again. I hooked up right away on my first retrieve and caught a 20 pounder. Himee senior hooked one a few minutes later and changed rods with me but half way up a sea lion grabbed it and spent the next 15 minutes ripping it to shreds 200 yards from the boat. We finally got the hook back from the motherf........magnificent creature and got back to fishing somewhere else. We fished 2 pods of dolphins until we finally found tuna about 6 miles offshore. I got 3 with the largest going on 20 pounds or so. I invited a young guy from Germany and an old guy from B.C. to join me for dinner last night at The Tiki Bar. We had tuna sashimi and sushi 3 ways along with some seared. Washed down with 2 buckets of cerveca (10 beer) the bill was $32. It was awesome. Do you have a small alarm clock you can bring down with you? I borrowed one here but we might not get one at Siesta Suites. Francisco or Gricelda become available on the 24th I´ll take it and cancel for the 25th. If you really want to go on the tuesday we can likely book with Himee. I´ll keep posted on what´s happening and play it by ear. Please talk to you sister as I feel she may have trouble when she comes down here fishing. The yellowtail fishing is not easy work. Neither is the yellowfin as you constantly jig the rod for action. After a days fishing I can´t imagine her packing Jerry back to the hotel by herself. This type of fishing as you know is not for the ordinary man or woman, and Jerry would be a quivering mass after 8 hours on the water. She may need a backup plan. See you at Siesta Suites on Monday. Senior Neeeeil.

Really though, I think we are all in love with the tuna now. So here is one of my favorite tuna recipes.

Tuna Titaki

Mix in a large bowl:

3-4 tbls spoons soya sauce
2-3 cloves crushed or finely chopped garlic
1 small thumb of grated or finely chopped ginger (equivalent to about 2 tsps)
1 tbs olive (or your favorite) oil
2 tsp brown sugar
2-3 tbls balsamic vinegar
½ of a mandarin or very small sweet orange peeled and diced
juice from half a lime (1tbs)
3-4 chopped green onion
1/2 small red onion thinly sliced a handful of cilantro chopped

Sear the tuna about ¼ inch through all the way around. Slick about ¼ inch thick and toss into dressing. Serve with avocado and/or with salad greens and sprouts.

Veggi-mites

Disclaimer: This story and the recipes have nothing to do with the Australian toast spread. But I would like to say that that stuff is awesome!

I was a vegetarian for about three years in my late teens. Well oval-lactive whatever-tarian. I still ate milk products and fish sometimes. I had a few reasons. Heath was one. There were a few studies my mom had read that implicated that eliminating meats, especially red meats, would prevent the development of kidney stones and inflammatory disorders. My mom has a hereditary kidney disorder and my dad and my sister and I have an arthritis called ankylosing spodalitis. I had not shown symptoms yet or been diagnosed so I thought this was a good preventative measure.

My sister and our two best friends had also become vegetarians. Many teenage girls in the late 1990s were making the switch. Vegan didn’t become big until the early 2000s.

Amber my sister was the first of our little clan to make the switch. She also hung in the longest as vegetarian for almost five years. When our mom was pregnant with her she couldn’t stand the smell or taste of meat, raw, cooked or cooking. She made herself eat some fish but pretty much lived of meat alternatives. When Amber was little she wasn’t the biggest meat fan either. Mom always had to make sure she had yogart, which she sometimes made from scratch, beans, cheese and other proteins to balance Ambers diet.

When she made the decision to go full out vegetarian Amber’s diet was not the best at first. My parents found and created new recipes with beans and other non-meat proteins but she often preferred ramen noodles and dill-pickle chips, which she can still scarf back without much consequence.

Our dad created an amazing mixed bean stew that is still one of my favorites today. Actually, that bean stew was what made me finally decide that I could do the vegetarian thing. My sister had inspired our family to try new meatless foods that tasted amazing and I decided to take the plunge.

At first the vegetarian thing was fun and I stuck to the limitations of my diet well. I put mushrooms in the place of chicken and the introduction of Yves Veggie Cuisine to the Peace River IGA made the transition even easier. I could make tacos with mock-beef that were just as awesome as real beef tacos. I often wonder what my family and I would have come up with for recipes then if we had access to all the great ingredients we have now.

It was moving from Peace River to Edmonton that broke me, specifically the Arby’s in the Kingsway mall. I would go for a poke around to my favorite stores and the food court would be calling me the entire time. Sometimes, not every time at first, I would go get a roast beef sandwich off the value menu. It wasn’t long before I was making excuses to the mall and upgrading to regular roast beef sandwiches.

I would find a table in the darkest most secluded corner of the food court and savor every last nibble of juicy delicious roast beef. The sesame or onion bun was nice too but I could have done without it.

It went on like this for almost a year. Sneaky rendezvous with Arbys roast beef and eventually the odd mama burger at A & W. I would go home afterwards and cook up a veggie friendly meal to conceal my deceit.

I didn’t come to terms with my problem until the spring of 2002. I had a friend who was on a secret mission to break me, I’m sure. Every time he invited me to do something it involved steaks on the barbeque or ribs stewing in a pot.

I struggled for the first few weeks then began just having a bite of his steak here and there. It wasn’t long after that that I had to admit to myself that I was not a vegetarian. Not anymore… That first steak, the first one that was just for me, cooked medium rare and right off the barbeque was amazing. Each bite tasted like freedom melting into juicy pools in my mouth and warming my tummy.

That summer my sister Amber fell victim to my moms famous barbeque ribs on a houseboat trip. It was over. The vegetarians in our family were no more. Our two best friends had succumb to their own meaty encounters as well.

Many great things came out of our veggies though. The greatest of which are the recipes. The Chickpea Salad is an old favorite and the Quinoa is new from about two years ago. I think if we had had quinoa when we were veggi-mites we may have survived a wee bit longer, but just a wee bit.




White Balsamic Chickpea Salad

In a large bowl mix

1 can of chickpeas drained (540ml/19oz)
½ cup diced red onion
½-1 full red, yellow or orange sweet pepper diced
a handful of chopped cilantro
2-3 cloves of finely chopped garlic
salt and pepper to taste

Try: Adding diced cucumber, shredded carrot, other beans fresh and canned
If you don’t like cilantro use parsley or basil
Adding 1/4cup Feta or baby mozzarella
Adding 1/4cup fresh chives chopped about ½ cm

Dressing:

Mix separately (or not if you’re lazy like me)

Juice from half a lemon (2-4) tbls
1 tbls white balsamic vinegar (the Italian market is the best place to pick this up)
3-4 tbls olive oil

Try: Adding Feta or baby mozzarella
Adding shaved almonds or bits of your favorite nuts
Adding raisins or diced apricots




Cucumber Quinoa Salad


This is a great summer salad and also great for lunches as it keeps well. I like to make extra quinoa when I use if for a side dish then make salad with the extra the next day.


Toss together the following ingredients in a large bowl:

¾ - 1 cup of quinoa rinsed then cooked. (Cook Quinoa just like rice, 1part grain 2 parts water. Bring to a boil then turn to simmer until it has little bubble holes in it then set aside for 5-10minutes.) Stir it up with a fork and set aside to cool.

1 mini cucumber diced (or about 5inches of a long English)
1/3 cup diced red onion
4-6 large leaves of fresh basil

Dressing:

2-3 tbs lemon juice (juice from half a lemon)
2tbs honey
1tbs balsamic vinagar

Mix together then slowly stir into the salad. Serve chilled or room temperature.

Acquired Taste

Shaw is coming to, hopefully, fix my internet in the morning. Anyone know of other providers for the Spruce Grove area that are not Shaw or Telus?

Acquired Taste

Cilantro and Muscles are two things that I tried very hard to like for a very long time before finally getting my taste buds to cooperate. It turns out that cilantro is tough for a lot of people, and my primitive exposure to muscles was the problem there.

I had tried cold muscles on brunch and seafood buffets at the various hotels my family frequented for swim meets and boxing and martial arts tournaments. The Ramada near the down-town airport always had cold muscles on their Sunday brunch buffet. I would put a few on my plate every time. One of my parents would sweetly remind me that I didn’t like them and I would protest that I heard somewhere that they were an “acquired taste.” Which I knew to mean that if you kept trying them you would learn to like them. I recall my mom trying to tell me various house chores, as well as things like algebra, were also “acquired tastes.” I am proud to say I never bought that BS. (I love you Mom)

I finally found some muscles that I exciting discovered I loved at The Cheese Cake Factory. On a brave whim, ordered Louisiana Muscles with Frococcia. I remember my boyfriend at the time saying “are you sure?” I likely replied in my usual muscle defence, “they are and acquired taste.” They came to the table in a large shallow bowl swimming in a decadent red sauce that smelt like heaven probably does. The frococcia bread that was teetering on the side of the bowl looked like a sponge from outer space. I was accustom to regular North American style breads and this was just weird. (I know make a kick-ass forcia bread that I will share will you guys soon.) But the muscles, that is what we starting talking about, were amazing. The just spicy enough Louisiana sauce had a creamy, buttery edge. I ordered it every time we went, which was often because every time anyone wanted to meet for dinner I jumped on suggesting The Cheese Cake Factory.

My lovey affair with Louisiana Muscles ended when The Cheese Cake Factory, the only one in Edmonton, burnt down. I was crushed. I tried other muscles at other restaurants (I wasn’t brave enough to make them myself then) but they just didn’t compare. I wasn’t until I was in Chile that I found muscles that I could love with the same mouthwatering craziness.

Before I had even left for South America I had decided that I was going to eat as much seafood as I could down there. I had to. It would be fresh and fabulous, cooked in ways that I would not have considered at home.

I discovered my first my first treasure of a Chilean restaurant with some of my fellow Spanish students in Santiago where we were all studying together. Someone told someone about a little place down town and away we went. Everything we ordered was amazing, especially the muscles. I can’t remember exactly the seasoning but I do remember that there was cilantro. Cilantro seemed to very often be the little thing that went along way in most of the food that I tried and loved in South America.

I don’t remember trying cilantro for the first time. I do remember when I decided that I hated it. The girl living upstairs from me in basement suite I had in Edmonton loved the stuff. It was springtime and we were planning a few things in our tiny backyard. I tried a little leaf of her cilantro. “It tastes like soap!” I protested. I avoided it cilantro until my first trip out of Canada to the Dominican Republic. Some of the food was seasoned partially with cilantro down there and I decided that maybe the stuff wasn’t so bad.

I didn’t try cooking with muscles or cilantro until a couple years ago. Board and avoiding homework I wandered to Safeway to find something inspiring to cook up. I had been lusting over memories of my traveling time and was craving muscles. Poking around in the meat isle I found live muscles. I hadn’t noticed them before. Although I knew I wanted to put something with cilantro on them I wasn’t sure what else to do. Safeway has a little tower of recipe cards. One of them had a recipe for muscles with roma tomatoes, cilantro, lemons and onions. I grabbed a card, all of those ingredients and then hit the check out.

At home I followed the recipe fairly close. I did add some red pepper flakes and garlic. I don’t remember if the recipe card called for white wine or not but defiantly use white wine. Pick a dry white, NOT a riesling, gewürztraminer or chardonnay. Use something not-so-sweet like a sauvignon blanc or pinot gris. You’ll need about 1/3 of a bottle for each pound of muscles. So buy according as you must have some for sipping as well.

Rinse you muscles, removing any beards. I like to make sure they are all closed before I cook them. I do this by putting them in the sink with running water (room temperature) and stirring them around. If they close all the way, of even a little, that movement tells me that they are alive and safe to eat. I have a friend who “smell tests” her open ones and if they don’t smell yucky she cooks them. I have not gotten sick from her muscles or mine. You decide what you want to do. Whatever you do, if any do not open after being cooked, don’t eat those ones. If there are more than a few that don’t open. Talk to the place you bought them.

For each pound of muscles:

Dice 1 cup each of red onion and roma tomatos (1/2 a large red onion 3 roma tomatoes)

Finely chop 2 cloves of garlic


Toss the above ingredients and the clean muscles into a large pot. Pour in at least a cup of white wine for each pound. Add 1-2 tsp of red pepper flakes or grind some in if you have them in a grinder, then add salt and pepper to taste. Stir the muscles up again and set aside.

Put your element on high, when it is red-hot place the pot on the element. Once the liquid is simmering stir the muscles every minute until they have all open. Usually about 3-5 minutes, more if you have a very full pot.

Quarter a lemon and set on the side to squeeze the juice on each serving.

Too Much Garlic? No Such Thing! Right?

I had this mostly written last night, then Nik got home. We fell asleep right after dinner and didn't wake up until is extremely annoying alarm clock when off at 6:30. He shut if off and then went back to sleep...

Too Much Garlic?

There is no such thing as too much garlic. That is what I used to say until I found out that it is, in fact, quite possible to overdue garlic.

My old roommate, Danica, and I used to love roasting bulbs of garlic and then eating the cloves with crackers and brie. It is amazing. (See the previous blog entry for garlic roasting instructions.) This favorite little snack was usually accompanied with red wine. We loved drinking red wine together so much that we decided to start making red wine. Why not right?

We tossed the idea around for a while until, as if it was a sign, Groupon had a sale from Wine Experts on starter kits. We each bought a kit and on an evening we both had off of work we got started on our very first batch of wine.

My parents have been making their own wine for years. I had watched my mom do it many times and felt pretty comfortable, at first. Before we even opened the kit we were calling my mom.

After receiving careful and detailed instructions from my mom we changed into hair-dye shirts (the grape juice can stain stuff and who needs pants anyway) then serialized all the equipment and began the process. We got as far as dumping in the grape juice base out of the box before having to call my mom again. And that part was hard, the juice part that is, the calling my mom part is easy. I have her on speed dial.

It was the cap that was a little scary. It just wouldn’t budge. I grabbed a butter knife as Danica made a disapproving “um” noise. After some prying, pulling and swearing I almost removed my thumb as, finally, the cap popped off and went flying across the room.

My mom instructed us, for the third time, to add some warm water to the bag that the juice was in to rinse out any left over juices from the bag. Then she reminded us to begin stirring the liquid while we added the bentonite then keep stirring for 30 seconds. The we were supposed to top of the primary, that is what the big barrel wine is started in is called, with room temperature water. We were also supposed to keep checking the temperature of the water.

Before hanging up the phone this time my mom asked, “are you guys drinking wine while you are making wine for the first time?”

“Um, yah.” I answered as if this should have been obvious.

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“We’ll be fine mom. Thanks! Love you!”

With our wine we, of course, were having garlic and brie. We were on our first two bulbs of garlic and getting into our second bottle of wine. The sterilization process brought us though most of the first bottle. We went on our way forgetting that the tap was still on warm and not taking temperatures until Danica remembered we were supposed to keeping the wine between 22-24 degrees Celsius.

We were at 29.5 degrees and only had about four liters to correct it. Woops. We turned the tap to cold to top off the primary at 23 liters. The temperature was 26.5 degrees. Both the instructions in the wine kit and my mom said “Do Not Add Yeast Unless The Wine is Between 22-24 Degrees Celsius.” My mom said it just like that with capital letters on every word but “is”. I didn’t want to call her but Danica made me.

“You dork. Do you have ice.” My mom said after I explained the hiccup.

“Um, three cubes.”

“Well open your windows and wait.” It was the beginning of October so it was fairly cool outside. “I’m going to bed. Stop drinking so much wine and don’t add that yeast until the temperature drops.”

So we had some waiting to do. It took forever! We roasted more garlic and opened another bottle. We chattered away and checked the temperature every half an hour. We had decided that with the window open that we did need pants after all, and sweaters. We had a glazed concrete floor in that apartment. Thank god, because carpet or even laminate wouldn’t have helped cool down at all.

Four hours, another bottle of wine and a total of six roasted bulbs of garlic later it had dropped to 24.5. Good enough!

We placed the primary under the kitchen table, where the wine would live for the next few weeks, and sprinkled the yeast over the top.

“Should we stir it?” Danica asked.

“No, we just let it sit on top like that.”

“You sure.”

“yup.”

“Don’t you have a date tomorrow?” Danica asked.

“Yup.”

“You stink dude. And I don’t think it is going to get any better by tomorrow night. Maybe we shouldn’t have ate so much garlic?”

“Oh shit.” I replied. Then we burst out laughing.

The next day we both stank like death. I had the worst, and I mean the worst garlic farts all night. I almost died in my sleep from lack of oxygen. I woke myself up gagging, at least three times.

The smell off of the two of us filled the whole apartment. It was like a sort-of garlic body odor. It was horrid. We drank tons of water and had hot showers, hopping that would help move the garlic through our system.

At work I asked Nicole and Bentley, “do I stink.”

“Yes!” Nicole replied. “I wasn’t going to say anything but, wow Jenn. What did you eat?”

I told them about the garlic and the wine-making shenanigans.

Bentley just laughed and said, “Don’t you have a date tonight?” and kept laughing.

“You are not going on a date smelling like that.” Said Nicole.

For the rest of the day Nicole monitored my stench until at about three-o-clock when I officially cancelled my date. I never rescheduled that date. Not because of garlic but because I met Nik right around that time as well, and we’re working on happily ever after. He doesn’t seem to mind when I’m stinky anyway. He does know the garlic story and rolls his eyes and laughs when I bring up roasting garlic.

Danica and I have implemented a 1.5 bulb per person rule as a sort-of kindness to those of you who have to stand near us the mornings after.


I'm putting a new recipe on the story about my Grandpa, "Gifts" and putting the recipe that is there here. I found some of my grandma's recipes and thought that one should go with that story.


I think, and I’m not alone on this one, that cooking for people is a way of showing them they are loved. I like to make this for people when I want them to feel special because it looks so pretty. It doesn’t really have a name. Maybe you guys can help me with that?

Nameless Yummy Thing (Contains Garlic)

Ingredients:
4-6 Beef Carpaccio (The super thin cuts of raw meat about 3-5” wide and about 8-12” long, usually from tenderloin.)
1 Tbls Vegeta (or your favorite meat seasoning)
3 Tbs olive oil
2 finely chopped pieces of garlic
Juice squeezed from ½ a lemon
Freshly ground black pepper
- Place all the above ingredients into a bowl or Tupperware marinating container and set aside for 20minutes to overnight.

Zucchini
Asparagus
Red onion
Red and/or yellow sweet pepper
Gouda (I sometimes use grated parmesan-reggiano instead)

Cut the veggies and cheese into strips about two inches longer than the width of the carpaccio. About two pieces of each veggie and one piece of cheese. Try to keep them about 1-1.5cm thick. You switch the veggies up a bit but keep them about the same thickness and length.

Preheat oven to 425F
Place 2 of each of the cut veggies widthwise on 1 piece of meat about 2- inches from and end. Place two pieces of each veggie and one piece of the cheese or grate parmesan generously over the veggies and meat. Wrap the meat around the veggies starting with the shorter end and continuing until the meat has been completely wrapped around. Place the wrap on an oven safe dish then bake for 20-30 minutes.

For a side slice a sweet potato (not a yam) into 1 mm slices and toss in salt, pepper, basil, oregano and olive oil then bake along with the meat. Take them out when they start to brown around the edges and get a little crispy.

Mellow Board (A.K.A. Charcuterie Board) -Just because it is one of those days-

Today is Tuesday the 27th day of March 2012 and it is a brie day! Brie days are sometimes complicated annoying days where you come home, take a look at your todo list, say “Fuck this” then get back in the car and go to the grocery store to buy the items on the list bellow. Or, they are days when you just feel like making something cute to snack on for you and one of your girl (or guy) friends. My old roommate, Danica, and I used to have brie days a few times each week. I actually had to cancel a date once due to a brie night. Well, more the garlic portion of the brie night. I’ll tell you about that Thrusday. Read through this whole post before you go shopping, you may want to add a few items to your list. Also, take a quick look through your cupboards and fridge for inspiration.

Your Brie Day Shopping List:
Musts:
• 2-3 bulbs of garlic
• Olive oil (This should already be in your cupboard)
• 1 wheel of brie – I buy the Monte Christo 125g from the Cheese Isle at Safeway. It is lovely and a few dollars less than the wheels in the deli.
• A nice baguette
• Some balsamic vinegar (this should also always be in your cupboard)
• 1 small tub of mixed olives from the deli section
• 1 pack of prosciutto (or 100g of something fancy form the deli)
• Crackers – Wheat thins or flax crackers are nice.
• 1 bottle of your favorite wine. I suggest a full-bodied red. (If you live near a real wine store like Bin 104 go there. Tell them you want a nice red to go with brie and smoked meats that will make you go “ahhh…”
Optional: (But sometimes musts if it was a “Fuck this shit day” not just a “fuck this” day)
• A second bottle of wine
• Your favorite chocolate
• A new album from an artist that you’ve been meaning to get for a while, (something chill)

The first thing you do when you get home is open your wine and pour a glass. I’m drinking a Chilean Cabernet Savignon. Preheat your oven or toaster-oven to 420F. Then grab a cutting board and a sharp knife then cut the tops of the bulbs of garlic. You just want to shave a ½ - 1 cm off. Enough to create about a 1-inch surface area on the top of the bulb. Make a snug little bowl out of a large piece of tin foil around the garlic, leaving excess to close the package off. If you have white wine open then pour a little splash in there making sure you get some inside the bulb around the cloves, about 1-3 tbls. If you don’t have wine it’s not worth buying or opening a bottle for. Then drizzle a little olive oil over and around the bulbs. I have a roasting oil with herbs in it that I use but you can use just plain olive oil and, if you like, add herbs and perhaps some cracked black pepper. Wrap the tin foil over the garlic and make a tight seal at the top. Put it in the oven until it the cloves are soft all the way through. This takes a few taste tests and about 30-45 minutes. The clove should pop right out of the skin and pretty much melt in your mouth. Let it cool before you test it! It really sucks if you don’t, trust me…

Alright, now you grab your cleanest prettiest cutting board or small platter, to arrange your items all neat-like on. I use a little wooden one from the dollar store. Grab a small dainty little bowl or sauce dish for olive pits and garlic skins and a small plate or bowl for crackers. You’ll need another small plate for olive oil and balsamic.

Rip off a hunk of the baguette, about 6-8 inches long, and set it aside. Pour some olive oil and balsamic vinegar in equal parts on the small plate. You will tear smaller bite sized hunks of bread off and swirl them around on the plate, soaking up a little of both liquids then pop it your mouth. You should be feeling a little less “fuck-this-ish” by now.

Take a few pieces of the prosciutto, cut them in half then roll the halves up. I had to skewer them onto tooth-picks because mine was dryer and wouldn’t stay rolled. Place them on the board somewhere then grab your brie, cut the wheel into quarters and place 1-2 quarters on the board.

I happened to have olives from the Olive Me booth at the Strathcona Farmers Market on had so I made little olive kabobs. You could just place a few olives on the board. I also had some tapenade and grainy mustard so I put a scoop of each on the board too. There was some Suho Meso smoked beef from the Cheese Factory on hand as well. I sliced up some pieces off and you guessed it, placed them on the board, right beside the olive kabobs to be precise. I cut four cherry tomatoes in half and scattered them about as well.

There was some cilantro and basil in one of my crispers so I made a little basil bed for my garlic and placed a few sprigs of cilantro around as well. When the garlic was ready I placed it then put my baguette in the oven (I bake my own bread, but store bought is fine if that’s not your thing.) See what else you have on hand. If it is snacky and looks pretty it probably qualifies.

You should now have a spread of amazing deliciousness in front of you by now. Put on CBC or CKUA, or that album you may have bought. Pour another glass of wine and nibble away.

I’m done my board-o-mellow, and the bread is smelling about done. I’m going to watch Earthship videos and stuff my face now. Happy Tuesday!

Gifts

My favorite picture of my Grandpa Wright, Ralph, and I is of the two of us sitting face to face. I’m perched on a little wooden stool with jam on my face and my crazy brown curly afro springing in all directions. (My hair relaxed at about four-years-old.) My grandpa is sitting on one of those chairs from the 70’s and 80’s with the metal legs and bad vinyl upholstery. He is wearing a red and white flannel shirt with a white undershirt. He looks very grandpa like but youngish compared to my more recent memories of him. Our feet are in an orange tub.

This is a picture of our nightly Epson-salt footbaths. We were, and still are if you ask me, pretty good buds. When he was around I was his little shadow and had to do everything he was doing. I would get quite upset when I was not allowed to have my own axe to help him chop wood. What toddler wouldn’t? He was my hero and I wanted to be just like him.

I giggle a little when I am driving with someone who crosses over the centre line or hits the rumble strips. So long as there is no oncoming traffic that is. My grandpa was a dreamer. He was a creator really, but in order to create one must first dream. I giggle because of a story my parents have repeated often over my years. It has become a sort of inside joke. My grandpa would slip into his daydreams while driving, which drove my grandmother bonkers of course. Each time the car would falter off to the right or the left she would yell “Ralph!” But the way she yelled it, dragging the ‘r’ making his name sound as if it was coming out of a cat as its tail was being slammed in a door.

As a wee little brat I thought this was a hilarious way to address my grandpa. I thought it was so much fun to randomly yell “Ralph!”, just for kicks, in the car while my dad was driving. My parents always got a good giggle out it. My grandma did not. But she is good spirited enough to not take offence. I still like to mimic her when driving with my dad if he falters to left of right. As a matter of fact so does my mom.

In those daydreams Grandpa could have been dreaming up something that he was planning on building or improving upon. Or he could have been thinking about one of his poems. He was famous for writing poems and short stories on napkins and scraps of paper in the coffee shops he would frequent. My grandma would find some of them in his shirt or pant pockets and did her best to save them. We are sure that for every one she found and saved there are two that were left behind on napkin with a coffee stain from the spoon he stirred around in mug he was sipping on as he wrote.

I didn’t see very many of these poems until just before he passed away about eight years ago. Some of us grandchildren picked a few to read at his memorial service. I had been toying with the idea of a tattoo for a while but had no idea what I wanted to get. After reading through the yellow duo-tang of his salvaged words I decided that when the time was right I would get one of, or part of one of, his poems.

The time came last winter. My brother, Travis, and I looked through a few of our favorites and settled on a poem Grandpa wrote in 1973 called Gifts. Travis was going to get the first two verses and I was going to get the last two. The whole poem as one tattoo would take up too much space as the letters should be fairly large.

We researched a shops and artists in Edmonton and settled on a female artists named Jakob, at a shop called Atomic Zombie. We booked an entire Saturday on November 11th. Fitting, as our grandpa was in the Canadian forces and these were to be memorial tattoos. As the date drew near my brother’s life got busy and he had to back out. I was pretty bummed-out but was going ahead with the appointment anyway. I was starting with the fourth and final verse on my upper left arm. Jakob and I had decided on a font and she had created a beautiful henna like back scheme. I arranged to have my partner Nik and one of my best friends Nicole come to take shifts to hold my hand. I was nervous but so stoked that I was finally going through with this.

On the morning of the 11th Nik dropped me off at the entrance of the shop then went to park. He took before pictures of my arm and waited with me while Jakob prepped her equipment and then prepped me. I squeezed his hand and anticipated the great and horrible pain that some had warmed me of while reminding myself that most of the ladies who I knew with tattoos had said it wasn’t as bad as the guys said it was.

The gun started with a buzz then hit my arm. Then the dull burn began. It really wasn’t that bad. Uncomfortable yes but not unbearable. It felt sort of like a sunburn moving around. I sent Nik off to do the weekly Saturday shopping at the Farmers Market, assuring him that I was fine and that Nicole would be by soon to hold my hand. He went off about his day and Nicole, assuming that Nik was with me went on about hers. Jakob and I took two breaks and chatted a bit between my self induced zone-outs. I thought about calling one of my support team members to come down. I assumed that they both assumed the other was with me. I decided that I was in my zone and just fine on my own. Jakob was good company and she probably didn’t need any extra distractions as she was putting permanent ink into my arm.

Jakob finished most of the front-face of my arm by about six-thirty. All the lettering and the design she had planned, plus some little extras she put in free hand are in rusty reds, browns and oranges. I loved it. I still love it.

Nik tried to sneak up behind me as Jakob was wrapping my arm in aftercare products. He apologized for not coming back and I assured him that I was just fine on my own and glad it turned out that way. After all, I had Jakob there to chat with when I was feeling chatty and she left me be while I was zoning out. I am sure my grandpa was chilling with us too.

Before leaving the shop I made another appointment for the 19th of April and left the shop with words to live by from one of my greatest heroes right where I will see them each and every day.

“Of all the gifts that you’ve received to enhance the life you live, by far the greatest gift of all is the gift of love you give.”


Grammie Cool’s Lazy Daisy Cake

Cake:

Cream together 2 eggs and 1 cup of sugar

Sift together 1 cup of flour, 1 tsp baking powder, 1 tsp salt then stir into egg and sugar mixture.

In a non-stick sauce pan bring 1 cup of milk and 1 tbs of butter to a simmer. Stir into the other ingredients.

Bake for 20 minutes at 350F

Frosting:

Blend together ½ cup of brown sugar 1/4 tbls butter, 1 tbls milk, ¾ cup coconut. Spread over warm cake then put back in the oven for 3-4 minutes or until the top is browned.

kevin Kossowan

We just had an amazing speaker, Kevin Kossowan, at the SA MacEwan Common Ground event. He and his family live an amazing sustainable and local lifestyle here in Edmonton. They eat about 95% locally and have very affordable and fun ways of doing so.

Want to learn more about local and sustainable living? Check this out. www.kevinkossowan.com