Food Porn XII

“COVID Cooking”

Enough already! I can’t eat any more and there’s no space in the freezer! And yet it seems wholly appropriate that in this tapsalteerie world, I have baked an(other) upside down cake.

It came after a crumble and two batches of cookies, and before a batch of muffins. The cookies were an experiment (plus I was bored with my tea treats): a basic cookie dough adapted for GF flour was riddled with chocolate chips and peanuts, and turned out so well that Ter and I had to do another batch to ensure the recipe would work with different add-ins. Baking is a science, after all. Chemical compounds can alter the outcome of the simplest recipe if you’re not careful. The white chocolate/cranberry dough baked up perfectly, but we’ve agreed it needs a hit of orange next time (and there will be a next time!) Maybe for Christmas, because now I have a zillion cookies to munch through. Ter isn’t a sweet fan, so I’m on my own.

The corona virus has taken us through rhubarb season. And what rhubarb! The stalks Ter’s brought from the grocery store have been two feet long, and she doesn’t skimp on the number of them, either. I’ve stewed it, roasted it, frozen it, and baked it into the aforementioned crumble. It also topped the bottom of the upside down cake, liberally dosed with chopped candied ginger and delicious with a scoop of Dulce de Leche Haagen-Daaz. Admittedly, the cake still tastes a little dusty from the GF flour. I haven’t figured out how to improve on that, but perhaps next time (and there will be a next time), I’ll put the ginger in the batter rather in than the under-topping.

The muffins were going to be “rhuberry”; that is, rhubarb and blueberry, until Ter confirmed my mental yellow alert and suggested that maybe blueberries wouldn’t be the best add-in for the rhubarb-based batter. “There are strawberries in the freezer, though,” she reminded me.

Problem solved ... you’d think.

Though whole when stirred into the batter, the strawberries melted in the oven, creating chasms in the final product. I popped a muffy from the pan and it promptly fell over on the cooling rack. They ended up topside down on the rack, which is actually more appealing than the right side up. The rhubarb compote I used in the wet ingredients has made for a weird grayish hue that cries to be hidden by some form of frosting. Maybe cream cheese?

I’m not the only one in the COVID baking groove, either. I don’t frequent the grocery store by any means, but each time I’ve accompanied Ter of late, the hunt for dark brown sugar has been futile. Flour, sugar and chocolate chips have surpassed bottled water and toilet paper as the hoarder’s supply of choice.

Just as well. I need time to consume what already exists before I crank up the hotbox once more.

maybe these have in fact been somewhat nibbled

Bibliography XIV

“The Starless Sea” – Erin Morgenstern

Beautiful imagery, enchanting vignettes, compelling story, too many twists and turns. I got lost three-quarters in and felt vaguely cheated at the end. Maybe I missed something. Maybe I expected too much—and yet the writing itself did not disappoint.

I confess, I was in a scattered state of mind when I read the book. In that respect, I disappointed myself. Still, the main storyline intercut with seemingly unrelated stories would have confused me anyway. Just as I fell into the rhythm of the protagonist’s tale, the momentum was interrupted with a story from another realm. Sensing that these unrelated fairy tales were relevant to the main theme, I trusted all would be revealed as I read deeper into the book. But in the end, I missed the point.

Don’t get me wrong. The writing is beautiful, as magical as in “The Night Circus”, but depending on the passage, there is either too much unnecessary information or not enough where necessary. I admire the author’s ability to put me in a scene where I can hear the merest whisper and smell the faintest trace of cinnamon, so I appreciated the experience of being there. I just don’t know why I was there in the first place.

Yes, I do. This is Erin Morgenstern’s second novel, and I loved her first so much that I’ve read it every Christmas since 2012. Eight years later, I still look forward to the annual delight. Expectations were high on this one; perhaps she felt the pressure and overcompensated. There is a lot of writing in this book. I think it could have been shorter and thus made more sense ... but perhaps, as I say, my expectations were too high. I just don’t know.

I will read a good book more than once. Sometimes it’s simply because I enjoyed it so much the first time. More often, it’s to get a better grip on the story itself. As with a movie, the first round is spent getting familiar with the characters, following the action and trying to predict the outcome rather than noticing nuances. Knowing how “The Starless Sea” ends (sort of), it may make more sense to me the second time.

Am I trying to avoid disliking a book I was so eager to read?

Maybe. I was so confused at the end that I couldn’t tell whether or not I liked it at all.

At least I’m willing to give it another try.

Elements

the view from my bench

One of the many magical things I’ve discovered about Esquimalt is the wilder side of Victoria’s Inner Harbour – this lovely little part of the Capital Regional District features a coastline of tiny mountaintops poking up through the ocean, gusty winds at unexpected intervals, and an up-hill/down-dale topography that provides a better workout than anything I could probably get in a gym. And the same stunning view of the Olympic mountains is as readily available here as it was from the Ocean Room.

A recent flânerie took me, with my Canon, down to Saxe Point Park, the “over the bridge” version of Beacon Hill that features far fewer flower beds and a slightly less cultivated atmosphere than my former stomping ground. I walked the park’s perimeter with the ocean on my right and the urban forest on my left, until I rounded the point and came upon a wooden bench situated with a rock rise at its back and a stunning view of the water out front. By then a rest was welcome, so I sat down on the bench and took a minute to absorb the environment. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, let it out, and noted:

The sun’s warmth on my face;

The air stirring in my lungs;

The rock solid beneath my feet;

The sound of water gently lapping the shore.

In short, it was a perfectly pure mindful moment in which I was acutely aware of the four main elements that makes this world so beautiful. Wood and metal were also present in the bench beneath me, but this Virgo counts them with rock in the “earth” category.

This dimension is fraught with contrast. Life is not designed to be easy, but our loving, friendly and generous Universe has provided a glorious venue in which to find respite from the human experience. All we have to do is pay attention to it, and to ourselves. We are connected to the earth in ways we don’t fully comprehend, yet that moment on the bench at Saxe Point defined my connection more keenly than any book or documentary ever could.

It must have done, because I’ve remembered it.

Knighty Night

Looking for something to watch one Saturday evening, we landed on A Knight’s Tale. It’s one of our favourite movies, guaranteed to make us laugh and cheer and all the other warm fuzzy things aroused by an entertaining story wherein an ordinary man overcomes all odds to become a champion. It’s bright, it’s funny, it’s touching, it’s loud; except for a bit of clunky writing in one spot, it’s the perfect popcorn period piece.

“I love that film,” one of us remarked when it was done.

“Me too,” the other replied. “We should do another one next weekend.”

“A knight film?” Since we have a number of them in our DVD library, it seemed a theme might be fun. We began listing titles—King Arthur (starring, appropriately enough, Keira Knightley, bwahahaha), Kingdom of Heaven, Excalibur, even The Court Jester, which led to a round of terrible puns that left us breathless with more laughter:

“Saturday Knight at the Movies.”

“Saturday Knight Fever.”

“Give Me the Knight.”

“Knights in White Satin.”

“Knight of the Iguana.”

“One Knight in Bankok.”

Okay, most of them are song titles, but you get the idea. King Arthur was screened the following week, and Kingdom of Heaven ran last Saturday. Excalibur may be up next, but while pondering further possibilities, I asked Ter if Jedi knights count; if so, the Star Wars saga will prolong the theme for a couple more months. And I almost forgot: Monty Python and the Holy Grail!

It’s likely no coincidence that I am currently writing a story about knights returning from the Crusades, but I do wonder which came first, the story idea or the movie theme. Whichever it was, something has sparked the creative impulse and on my week off, I intend to make it count.

Count. Hm. Ter and I toyed with viewing vampire movies before “knights” fell. Perhaps our next round starts with Dracula ...

Survival of the Flittest

not our visitor, alas

For weeks, Ter has talked about getting a hummingbird feeder. She’s ventured out specifically to get one more than once, but the line ups to get into Canadian Tire are around the block before opening time these days – you’d think the Leps were coming to town but no, it’s probably because the corona lockdown has everyone engaged in knocking home improvement projects off the honey-do list. The backyard will be the primary vacation spot this summer, so get that garden in order!

I digress.

Finally, Ter found a feeder somewhere else and brought it home, where it sat for a few more weeks on the table in a corner, cooking, as my grandfather said when asked why his new suit still hung, unworn, six weeks after purchase. (It must be genetic. I do the same thing; a new shirt is not new if it’s been hanging in my closet for a month before I wear it to work.)

I digress again.

The hummingbird feeder is a tribute to Mum, who enjoyed watching the little guys congregate around the feeder outside her window back in the day, therefore it seemed appropriate that ours be installed in time for Mother’s Day. A sack of sucrose crystals was purchased along with the feeder, so on the Friday preceding, Ter and I followed the instructions by washing out the feeder, mixing up the syrup (wincing slightly at the cherry Kool-Aid colour), and affixing some picture wire from which to hang the contraption on our little balcony.

Oh, yeah. The balcony. Well, the floor of said balcony is angled to allow for drainage when it rains (and when it rains in Esquimalt, it rains); setting the step stool in place took some finagling before finding a relatively flat surface. My balance is pretty good, but while a tumble over the railing from the second floor likely wouldn’t kill me, I’d rather not go there. With Ter at my back and the rail at my knees, up I went to hitch the feeder to its hook.

Ta da! Not a problem!

Within twenty minutes, we had our first customer, a sizeable-for-the-species specimen who stopped by to sample from three of the four ports before zipping off to wherever hummingbirds go after topping up their tanks. The same (?) fellow came by a few more times before nightfall, and has made periodic visits every day since. We don’t always catch him in the act, and the liquid level hasn’t dropped a whole lot, but he’s definitely around. And when the season ramps up, I hope to see a frequent flurry of the little guys. In fact, I’m inclined to sit quietly in a corner and watch for them – a meditative moment with Nature. And who knows? If I have the Canon with me, I might even get a picture. “See that little blur ... ?”

Come and get it, boids!

Cold Stop

In the radio biz, a cold stop means a track that ends abruptly rather than fading out. It’s synonymous with “cold turkey” for quitting a habit right now. It can also mean a sudden stop in motion, or stopping in one’s tracks.

Nothing positive ever keeps me awake. Even when anticipating something good, anxiety over what could (but probably won’t) go wrong will rear mightier and scarier during darkest night than is possible in the light of day. I don’t remember what I used in nights before I took the picture at the top of this post; it was snapped during 2016’s winter off Dallas Road and I’ve wrestled with nocturnal demons for years. But I recently found myself wide awake and freaking out around three in the morning; desperate to silence the internal screaming, I somehow managed to conjure the red lollipop in a blizzard and issue the mental command: STOP!

Imagery is power. My best defence against nausea is to picture brittle blue skies, silver-frosted streams, and glistening sun on ice-coated branches. Imagining the blistering cold of ice on my tongue and snow on my face is a sure fire means to quell the roiling threat of flu or food poisoning. So perhaps it’s not surprising that the picture of a snowy stop sign, accompanied by a firm declaration, startled my hysterical mind into silence. And in that instant, I was able to redirect my thoughts to something more pleasant.

Well, the only fiction that interests my night time mind is dreaming up the worst possible outcome in a real-life predicament – a scenario of which there are countless versions, might I add. It’s not at all compelled to consider writing the next scene or developing a new story idea. Ironically, there is no creative value in lying awake between midnight and six a.m.

So when I next find myself tormented by the insomniac game of “Worst Case Scenario”, I’m calling in the cold stop and going back to sleep.

Food Porn XI

“Ter’s Granola”

*sung to the tune of My Sharona*

What to do at breakfast time, breakfast time?

What will fuel me up when there’s no granola?

Toast or cereal is fine, either’s fine

But I’d really rather have Ter’s granola.

In a bowl, or a jar, with some fruit, strain some yogurt

Spoon it on for the crunch, for the sweet and the yum,

Yum yum yum, aye aye, whoa!

T-T-T-Ter’s granola

Ooo, the level’s getting’ low, getting’ low

When’s she gonna make me some more granola?

If she makes a batch to go, I say, “No!”

I don’t wanna share my granola!

Toasted oats, ginger bits, chopped pecans; shred coconut

Cinnamon, just a touch, for some heat with the sweet

Yum yum yum aye aye whoa!

T-T-T-Ter’s granola

T-T-T-Ter’s granola

Ooooo …

… Ter’s granola!