Archive for May, 2010
This afternoon Mike, W and I went down to the food bank to pick up an emergency hamper to live off for the week. We’re taking part in A Week in Their Kitchen, an initiative for Hunger Awareness Day (which has in Calgary expanded to “Husky Help the Hungry Week”), living exclusively on the items in a food bank hamper to help give people a sense of what it’s like. (By the way- Husky has covered the cost of extra hampers, so we’re not actually taking food from those who need it.)
We went through the same process the other clients go through in order to get our hampers. Gave our ID. Discussed our financial situation. As I gave this info the woman at the window beside mine leaned over and offered W treats from a basket of chocolate bars and fruit snacks. It struck me hard how many kids were in the room, waiting in line with their mothers, mostly – I saw about a dozen in the hour that we were there, and it wasn’t a very busy day. 41% of the food bank clients are children under 12 – another large percentage are teenagers.
We were given the go-ahead for a weeks’ worth of food for a family of 2-3, and I proceeded to the corridor where clients pick up their bins. The volunteers were friendly and offered a powdered donut as they filled empty milk crates for me and slid them down the line to pass other volunteers who added produce, milk and eggs. One volunteer had just been a volunteer at my cooking class at the Cookbook Company yesterday. She looked a little surprised to see me.
They offered extra buns, if I wanted some, and one volunteer asked if I would like one head of iceberg lettuce or two. (One.) The second last guy on the line held up two handfuls of plantains and asked if I knew what to do with them. I told him I’d figure it out. He asked if I had access to the internet (at which I internally laughed and was simultaneously embarrassed for my addiction to same) and suggested I Google “plantain recipes”. Which I did. I panicked a little when I got home, unloaded the bags and bins and discovered there was no fruit (besides a dozen ripe plantains) – not even canned or frozen – and the vegetables were limited to 4 bags of coleslaw, a bag of potatoes, 5 packages of mushrooms and a small bag of green beans and two yellow zucchini that were banging on death’s door.
I have to say I’m astounded at the quantity of food we were given. It filled the back of the car. There’s no way I could have transported it on the bus. A young woman in her twenties who was behind me in line walked out with a cartful, and hers was a hamper for one. We got two bags of Cheerios, an enormous tub of peanut butter, rotini, spaghetti, plenty of bread and buns, a pound of solid margarine (no can do…), two cake mixes and a shortbread mix,
two cans of tuna and two of brown beans, a dozen eggs, a 6-pack of lactose free meal replacement drinks, a big jug of V-8 and a tetra pack of apple juice, two sleeves of saltines, four cans of soup, canned tomato sauce and whole tomatoes, two packages of hot dogs (no hot dog buns, though! just burger buns), a few cans of club soda and two 2L cartons of milk.
I feel a little like the kitchen McGyver tonight. Which I quite get into, but recognize it’s a huge obstacle for most people making do with very little in their kitchen cupboards, and possibly very little in the way of cooking skills.
Of course, what you get depends largely on what has been donated. It’s never exactly the same. We got the hugest box of Oreos I’ve ever seen, plus another sleeve of them, half a dozen donuts and three 4-packs of bubblegum and cotton candy flavoured Jell-O pudding, in shades of pale blue and pink. (W: “What is THAT?” M: “Not food.”)
We got three produce bags packed with miscellaneous granola bars, cereal bars and packets fruit snacks and chocolate Easter eggs. One volunteer pointed them out, kindly telling me we were getting Gushers so that W wouldn’t feel different at school.
Which I can sadly relate to, having been the kid with the big ol’ woody carrot for recess snack when the other kids had fruit roll-ups. But what does it say about our society that you need to have Gushers in your lunch to be cool? To be normal?
But the sentiment was sweet.
I remember my Mom picking up boxes of Pot of Gold chocolates to put in the Food Bank donation bin at Christmastime, because wouldn’t it be nice if people got a treat in their hampers along with all that rice and beans. And I still remember that when I make donations to the bin – should I be practical? or give something sweet? There seemed to be no shortage in the sweets department – not that there’s anything wrong with that. If I were having a hard time of it and needed to rely on the food bank to get me through a week (or month), I’d be happy to find a bag of cookies in there. I’m sure plenty of food bank clients have bigger fish to fry.
Tonight, I thought I’d cook the perishables first – since the beans and zucchini were so close to self-combusting I turned them into a simple stew with two potatoes and a large can of tomatoes. It reminded me how good plain, unadorned food can be – our rules of engagement allow cooking oil and three spices, so I added a pinch of Italian seasoning (from my friend’s garden), salt and pepper. Had I been doing this on my own I might have added asparagus, garlic and onion, maybe white beans, and possibly a sausage to start. I certainly would have grated some Parmesan cheese overtop. But we enjoyed it nevertheless, and felt good after eating it. It was simple, comforting and nourishing. It fed us well (W opted for eggs on toast, and I did let him finish the last of the watermelon we started yesterday – it seemed ironic to not eat something and have it go to waste in order to spread the word about the food bank?) I sauteed the second zucchini with a package of mushrooms and added a can of tomato sauce – that will go in the fridge for dinner another day.
Zucchini, Green Bean and Potato Stew
canola or olive oil, for cooking
1 onion, chopped (optional)
1 yellow or green zucchini, chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, crushed (optional)
1-2 cups fresh green beans, stem ends trimmed
2 potatoes, russet, Yukon gold or red, chopped (don’t bother peeling them)
1 28 oz. (796 mL) can whole tomatoes, undrained
pinch Italian seasoning
salt and pepper
In a medium pot, heat a drizzle of oil over medium-high heat and cook the onion (if you’re using it), zucchini and garlic for about 5 minutes, until soft. Add the green beans, potatoes, tomatoes (with their juices) and Italian seasoning; bring to a simmer, cover and cook for about half an hour, or until the potatoes are tender. Season with salt and pepper and serve immediately.
So yes, it’s “Husky Help the Hungry Week” – anyone can drop off food donations at any Husky and Mohawk location, Calgary Police Services or Husky Energy Head Office throughout the week.
May 31 2010 | veg and vegetarian | 32 Comments »
Rather tired, and functioning (barely) on only a few hours of sleep, having been up with a feverish W for much of last night. This morning I taught a class at the Cookbook Company, for which a camera crew was in attendance (I’ll explain that later) – afterward we did a bunch of taping, and dinner was a potluck in honour of one of Calgary’s best-known food writers, the outspoken and illustrious dee Hobsbawn-Smith, who is packing up in July and moving herself out to a farm in Saskatchewan. It was a goodbye party of sorts.
Tony Marshall from Highwood Crossing made brisket.
Karen brought trout on a bed of arugula, scattered with grape tomatoes.
dee brought lentils. Despite my legume overload of late, I enjoyed them.
There were salads, and scalloped potatoes, and bread. I made marinated asparagus.
And dee made buckle. We globbed great quantities of Vital Green Farms cream on top – at 52%, it’s as close to double or clotted cream as we can get in Alberta. It’s the stuff dreams are made of.
Good luck dee – Calgary will miss you. So long, and thanks for all the food.
May 30 2010 | leftovers | 6 Comments »
I subscribe to the Nike school of thought when it comes to entertaining:Just Do It. Or Just Send Out An Email, and by hitting send you’ve instantaneously committed yourself to having people show up at your door, and you’ll figure it out, and everyone will have a great time even though you haven’t managed to tidy up the dust and dog hair rhinos that have collected in every corner and on the sides of each hardwood stair. Because really, no one cares about that stuff. And I’m convinced that everyone else will feel a little bit better about themselves if they see what a disaster my house is.
The point is, if you wait until you have time, or worry about schedules and menu planning and all the things that might stress you out about having people over, it might never happen. So although I should have been working on my manuscript today, I knew much of the neighbourhood would be out chipping in for the community clean-up, and would be hungry afterward. And isn’t life all about the people in it? Isn’t this the important stuff? Says the girl who is neglecting all her friends equally.
And so a few days ago I sent an email telling everyone to come over this afternoon for a bit of a barbecue. As it turned out, the temperature hovered around ZERO all day. We woke up to wet snow, and it came down until around dinnertime. By mid-afternoon we were all wet, cold and tired, having spent hours pitching in to give the community its spring cleaning. My sister suggested that instead of the barbecue, I throw a big pot of chili on the stove, and fill the oven with baked potatoes. I did. To bake a potato: wash it, poke it with a fork and bake right on the oven rack -you don’t need to wrap it in foil- at 350F for about an hour, depending on its size. It’s easy to tuck a few potatoes in the oven along with whatever else is baking, regardless of whether or not you’ll be eating them right away. Leftover baked potatoes make great, fast skillet fries or hash. Today they would have come in handy tucked into our pockets, to keep our hands warm. Sheesh.
Mike made me promise not to spend much time cooking, and I didn’t. I knew we’d need something sweet, and although a big batch of cookies or brownies would have been easy enough, I wanted to streamline it even further. I had a bag of letter-shaped pretzels I had bought for the occasion, and so smashed some up and stirred them into melted chocolate chips and peanut butter, then chilled the lot and cut it into blocks. A little too addictive, but dead easy. Especially when you need something to fill that chocolate void.
Crunchy Salted Chocolate Peanut Butter Blocks
They’re a little like homemade chocolate bars – you could add chopped toasted nuts and/or dried fruit in place of the pretzels if you like, but I love their crunchiness and salt.
3 cups chocolate chips (or chopped chocolate)
1 cup peanut butter
1-2 cups small pretzels, coarsely crushed in a ziploc bag
In a medium bowl, melt the chocolate chips and peanut butter in the microwave or over a pot of simmering water, stirring until melted and smooth. Stir in the pretzels and pour into an 8″ or 9″ square pan. Chill in the fridge until set. Let sit at room temperature for a bit to make them easier to cut into bars or blocks. Makes lots.
I picked up an orange pound cake from Rustic Sourdough Bakery on 17th Ave. Love the domed oval shape. W loves the little candy orange wedge on top.
Cathy made tiny potato, bacon and cheese frittatas that we ate like popcorn, and Jenn baked bread. And taught me how to take the top off a cupcake, then flip it upside down to sandwich the icing inside.
Altogether too much carb loading, and only one of us is running a marathon tomorrow. (Not me.) But we had lots of laughs around the kitchen table, and no one even mentioned the dust and dog hair rhinos.
May 29 2010 | snacks and sweet stuff | 18 Comments »
I have a new friend, who just happens to also be my neighbour.
We (fittingly) met at a meeting of the Slow Food Calgary steering committee, and even before we had a chance to meet, she was sharing ideas and making suggestions that indicated our like-mindedness. Turns out she majored in photo (me too), is a food writer (ditto) and blogger (hello) and is married to a musician (this is weird) named Mark (almost). She also lives a block away – if you walked out my front door, across the street, through my sister’s yard, you’d walk straight into her yard and into her back door – directly into her kitchen. Where she bakes cookies.
Her name is Jenn Chic. This is her blog. She just got back from a month in the kitchen at Chez Panisse. I know! She makes a pretty kick-ass cookie, which she will be selling at the Hillhurst-Sunnyside Farmers’ Market every Wednesday afternoon starting June 2. She sells them from home every couple weeks too – raw or cooked – to pick up or have delivered by bike, just like Aviv‘s bread.
And the wine and cheese? That was dinner – I emceed the first Art for the Senses event at the Glenbow Museum – wine from the Cellar, cheese from Janice Beaton. National Gallery of Canada curator John Collins was here from Ottawa to talk about the work of impressionist masters and Glenbow’s Senior Art Curator Monique Westra illuminated the work of Quebeçois abstract impressionist painter Jean-Paul Riopelle in the Riopelle exhibition. We also drank bubbly and ate Riopelle de l’Isle cheese – a soft, gooey, smooth and nutty triple creme made on the Ile-aux-Oies, one of the islands in the Ile-aux-Grues archipelago in the St. Lawrence River, just east of Quebec City. Riopelle (1923 – 2002) lived on the island for years; months before his death, he agreed to lend one of his masterpieces – a mixed media piece that was at one time a door (it’s in the exhibition at the Glenbow now) for use on the cheese label, stipulating that one dollar from every wheel sold is donated to an education fund for the island’s youth.
I feel more cultured already. And I do believe I’ve met my cheese quota for the month.
One Year Ago: Calamari, Grilled and Fried
Over at Family Kitchen: Easy Coconut Pie and Homemade Bisquick
May 27 2010 | leftovers | 8 Comments »
I remember the day it occurred to me that being born in August meant never getting to bring cupcakes to school on your birthday. W was due the end of July, born on August 4. This sad fact occurred to me sometime around May, and I was crushed. I mean seriously crushed. Panicked, even. I cried, partially due to the raging hormones I’m sure, over cupcakes. Or the lack of opportunity to make them to mark the most important event in the year of a little kid.
I got over it – kind of. Most everyone is away on the first long weekend of August, which sucks a bit every time W’s birthday rolls around. And he hasn’t started school yet. But today was his preschool’s May pole party – a performance for which parents were asked to bring a little smackerel of something when we arrived at 11 am. Last time we were asked to such an event – on Valentines’ Day – the note home requested “a small snack, such as hummus”. What did that mean? No cupcakes? Would sweets of any kind be frowned upon? I spent more time debating what to bring for a preschool Valentines’ Day party snack than I might have spent composing a menu for some grand function. I settled on popcorn. Festive, and no one could accuse me of being unhealthy.
But this time we made cupcakes, dammit. Little ones. W got to choose what kind, and naturally picked chocolate cupcakes with chocolate icing. We baked them together last night, he becoming so adept at cracking eggs that he no longer gets his fingers goopy. I put them in the oven before reading him his bedtime stories, and this morning the minute he woke up he ran downstairs to see if the cupcakes were baked. We frosted them over breakfast.
He wanted chocolate sprinkles, too – but there was only about a teaspoon left in the bottle, and a good half teaspoon went into his mouth and all over the floor.
I know I’ve shared this chocolate cake recipe before, probably more than once. It’s my favourite formula for chocolate cupcakes. The quick buttercream frosting ingredients were tossed in a bowl and beaten with a hand mixer (I could only find one beater – pretty sure the other is in some sort of mock-up space station in the basement), measured by eyeball: a blob of butter, shake of dark cocoa and much bigger shake of icing sugar, and a bit of water to get it all going. (I usually make frosting like this, adding more sugar or water as needed until I have something spreadable.) But what I really want to tell you about is how to make thick snaky swirls on top far more easily than even spreading it on with a knife.
Once you have something that has the consistency of frosting, scoop it into a zip-lock baggie, squish the air out of the bag and seal it. Snip off a corner and pipe it out – it will extrude nice and clean and smoothly, and when you’re done you can toss the baggie out. If you have several kids wanting to get in on the decorating action, you can give them each a bag. You could mix up different colours and alternate them, making stripey swirls. Or snip off just a tiny bit and use it to write stuff. Baggies are brilliant when it comes to cupcake decorating. Seriously- we did this while W ate his eggs on toast. It doesn’t have to be a big production. Unless of course you want it to be.
I know- they’re crazy dark cupcakes, hey? I used Bernard Callebaut cocoa (which isn’t the same as plain old Callebaut, right? You know that, right?) and was tempted to add orange juice to the frosting, but W may have detected that I messed with his chocolate on chocolate action. And I don’t want to get between a boy and his chocolate.
The recipe made 4 dozen mini cupcakes, which I baked in mini muffin cups. Every time I see one at a yard sale, I buy it, and now have approximately a hundred thousand. They’re the perfect size, even for grown-ups – three bites – perfect when you don’t want to commit to an entire cupcake. If you do, you can have three. Here’s the recipe.
May 26 2010 | leftovers | 31 Comments »
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We got three produce bags packed with miscellaneous granola bars, cereal bars and packets fruit snacks and chocolate Easter eggs. One volunteer pointed them out, kindly telling me we were getting Gushers so that W wouldn’t feel different at school.
