A Home of My Own

Sigh. I hate to admit this.
I have never owned a house.
I really hate that I hate to admit this. Re-Sigh.
What I hate more, is that having never owned a house makes me feel a bit like a loser.
I don’t think I’m alone. Oh god don’t let me be alone.

I know a few other people, mostly artists, who have never scraped enough money together for a down payment – let alone cover a mortgage. Even in this time of unprecedented, unbelievably cheap money. That bastion of adulthood - a mortgage. You've arrived...right?

Contrary to popular belief, house ownership is not an entitlement. Until the late 1940s most people in North America rented. The housing boom made owning possible. And now about 2/3 of Americans own a house – or the bank owns it while they live there. Which means a significant number of people still rent...

I went through the numbers with my husband when he came into my life. He’s owned before. He knows this whole ‘budget’ thing. He watches real estate like a red-tailed hawk on a field mouse. He hasn’t seen the market making any sense for the last number of years. So we’ve put money away…paid all our bills…and we sit patiently - okay I’m not so patient - waiting for a ‘market correction’. By the way, the Toronto real estate numbers were recently released, and sales here have dropped a whopping 19.5% over last year at this time…BUT…prices haven’t.

Steve created an excel spreadsheet with every variable and compared owning to renting (and saving/investing the difference). Yes, we save the difference – our shredded sofa is ample evidence. We do have that discipline.

On balance, it kind of balances…but…and yes there is a but…if you buy early in life…and if you pay it off, then the advantage is to owning. And there is a difference once you’ve cashed out as an owner and have to live on the money – you might be better off....

Blah, blah, blah. Money and math and business decisions...

I’m more fascinated by the feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s uneasy. That feeling like you’re being left behind at the train station while everyone heads off to vacation/beach/funland. Or there’s a party somewhere…you can hear it…somewhere…Friends have urged us to buy – saying the same thing I’ve heard over decades – jump in, or you’ll never get in – always said when things are in a frenzy.

Part of my problem is that I forgot. I mean time flew by…and sort of like having children…I forgot there might be a deadline. And here is what I hate even more. It might actually be too late. There is an encroaching deadline on this…why buy something that I have to commit too many years to paying off…years that would now take me wayyyyy beyond retirement (assuming I were to live a fantasy life and actually retire)?

Buying now just doesn’t make sense to me…it doesn’t make sense. And I shake my head loose, and my shoulders and my arms…as if I’m starting afresh – pushing away the propaganda that says my life is not successful without a house in my name. And trying to live in the spirit that works hard not to follow the herd…

I know. I know… renting…

…the house isn’t ours, the things we’d improve aren’t really in our power to improve. We share the basement laundry with our landlady (as lovely as she is)…so she has to come briefly through our apartment to get to the basement. The century-old place is nowhere near sound proof or insulated. Personal conversations have to be whispered, no one is dumb enough to come over without a sweater – unless we’ve had the oven on for a couple of hours.

And yet, my life is actually better without a house right now. My quality of life is quite high compared to previous years – I can travel…I can sit here and write and don’t have to worry about next month's rent. We put a lot of money into the food we buy. We have a stove, a fridge, and a counter…and our overhead isn’t that high. We live close to the subway system, in a fantastic neighbourhood. And if we lost an income, as we did late last year, we’d be okay. Because we didn’t buy. It bought us some freedom. On balance…not a bad deal.

And when I look at it that way – I haven’t been left out of the party – in fact, I can host the party.

Which brings me in a long, roundabout path to New Year's Eve. We had 8 people at our dining room table. We’ve ritualized the many-course dinner over the years. It started with homemade paté, thanks to Andy, and prosecco. When we gathered around the table, we started with lobster and shrimp rolls. Then a salad – simply green, scattered with toasted walnuts and pomegranate seeds with a lemon dressing. In between various friends kindly got up to wash the dishes…and dry them…while Nicole and Jean Paul’s dog Connor (dear Connor) joined in and tried to help by eating the scraps that had gone into the compost bin…and then…on to the next course.

We ate pork loin roast – stuffed with apricots and prunes and smothered in a Madeira wine/molasses glaze served with a mashup of rutabaga and carrot, and steamed green beans with garlic and ginger. Then coq au vin with rosemary roasted potatoes. Then flourless chocolate cake, thanks to Nicole. And the cheese plate? We never got there. But the dishes were all clean.

We barely got to the champagne at midnight. Some of us just had cups of tea and were lolling on the furniture wobbling our way into a standing position to wish everyone a happy new year. Oh my god we laughed and talked and yammered and yawed…we laughed so hard. What a great way to bring in 2013. I love my friends. Feeding them ‘til they hurt was my way of showing that.

No, we weren't in our house...but we were definitely home. 

Lobster Rolling Into Another Year

We all seemed so tired as 2012 came to a close. Just so tired. It wasn’t one specific thing. I’m not sure what exactly led to the sense of exhaustion. But as I racked up the good and the bad points, devouring our way out of 2012 seemed the best revenge.

It was an interesting year…the team I was on won a media award…and I learned tons technically...and I finally became a Canadian citizen……and I quit my job (phew…that was hard)…and we helped one of our Moms clean up, sell up, and move out of her house…and I went to Italy to help one of my graces celebrate her half-century mark…and suddenly the twilight of the year was here.   

I guess, on balance, that makes for a good year.

But it was hard, and trying, and testing and sparkling…

We have created a ritual. When we’re in town for new year's eve, we get together with friends to cook and enjoy a feast – a feast of many dishes…and small portions…and many hours of lounging. And laughing.

Everyone was very busy this year…so I decided, with more time than anyone on my hands, to get it together and get us into 2013 happy and full.

We started with lobster rolls.

I’ve never had lobster rolls. Seriously.

I’ve been lucky enough to eat lobster twice, the best way possible – full food karma – on the Atlantic coast.

The first time was in Lubec, Maine. I. Love. Maine.  

 

We were there to tell the story of a dedicated, passionate team of whale researchers who were getting to know, and save, the most endangered whale in the world – the northern right whale.

At the time, there were about 300 whales left in the north Atlantic. They had gained the name right whale from the days of whale hunting…they moved so slowly they were the “right” whale to hunt.

Moira (Moe) Brown, a fellow Canadian, and her gang have made huge strides in protecting them.

When I reconnected with Moe in the fall (I’m so happy to have relinked), she told me the population is around 500, averaging about 22 calves per year for the last decade…and most of that, I think, is because Moe and her team and have worked tirelessly for decades now to keep the slow, lumbering animals out of harm’s way – even convincing the governments to move the shipping lanes so that the gentle beasts don’t get run over…

On our last night in Lubec the research team bought a pile of lobsters for dinner (we paid for ours). 

They cooked them in a pit in the backyard – with seaweed, and stuff and more stuff…I’m not sure what…as we had also bought a pile of wine and the recipe dimmed into the twilight and night. But the lobsters…were…sooo…good. We made tables out of doors and all plonked ourselves down for a seafood feast.

Then we all went over to Campobello Island, where FranklinDelano Roosevelt spent many summers, and walked, well…weaved along, the raised boardwalk through a bog to a big wooden platform – and under a perfectly clear sky, wrapped in sweaters. We laid on the platform on our backs and looked up at the stars. One of the researchers had brought his telescope…and he set it up…and we all marvelled at the crab nebula. An appropriately crustaceous end to a lovely evening.

We were back on the east coast the next year meeting up with Gary Dedrick to explore the disappearing fish from the sea banks off Nova Scotia. Gary was a fifth generation fisherman if I remember correctly, and all his brothers but one were fishermen. 

He was a passionate defender and advocate of how to responsibly maintain the fish stocks – taking us through the docks, the various fishing methods (he was not fond of draggers), the fish plants where many women prepped and iced the fish…An entire way of life was disappearing as fishermen were sunk by few fish, big debt, and absolute misery.

We spent time with Gary, who is on the fisheries sector council, as he advocated for his fellow fisherman - turning defending his livelihood and everyone else's, into his livelihood. And with us he had to put up with having a camera in his face as we followed him around on his journeys for a week and a half...with us babbling constantly about how he should just ignore us...act natural...

Right.

He patiently explained to us landlubbers how the fishing industry worked…how he stitched together a living between long lining, lobster season, and swordfish season. 

So again on our last night, the Dedricks and friends invited us for supper, in their backyard. 

The lobster was a complete surprise for us, our host/producer had hinted at a lobster obsession. She is of small stature …but, man, could she pack away lobsters like a longshoreman. It was impressive. 

The Dedricks watched us eat. And they took video and pictures. Gary said, “Don’t look at the camera. Just pretend we’re not here…” They guffawed…”yeah just act natural.”

Gary also taught us that night that if you snap the lobster’s tail fan off, you can pull the meat out with a fork in one, big piece…And while that was almost 20 years ago,  I pulled out that very trick the night I made lobster rolls. 

Lobster rolls are really easy. It’s lobster meat mixed with a beautifully-flavoured mayonnaise sauce. Then it’s all stuffed into a hot dog bun. Traditionally…

…but this was New Year’s Eve.

I looked up about a half-dozen recipes for this – and made up my own concoction in the end. And bear in mind I made this for 8, but it was an appetizer/first course, so the portions were smaller…adjust amounts accordingly if you’re planning this as a main course.

Lobster Rolls

4 lobster tails – can be frozen if necessary

1/2 cup melted butter

pinch of paprika

salt and pepper

1 lb fresh wild shrimp

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped, a little set aside

olive oil, enough to coat shrimp

1 cup mayonnaise (depending on how mayonnaise-y you want it)

2 tbsp lemon juice and some lemon rind

a small splodge of mustard (optional)

1 celery stalk, finely chopped

1 green onion, finely chopped

1 tbsp or so of capers, roughly chopped

parsley, finely chopped (optional)

8 buns – split open, toasted if desired

I bought lobster tails and broiled them. I decided to broil them after watching how. I split the tail shells down the middle with a pair of kitchen shears (not as easy as it sounds, and there are many spiky bits that the lobster keeps for its last revenge). I pulled open the shell a bit, poured the melted butter on the meat, and sprinkled it with paprika, salt and pepper and broiled them until they were opaque. About 10 minutes. I watched them very, very carefully because one minute too much and the meat would have been tough.

Remove the meat from the tails and roughly chop into bite size pieces. Set aside.

Now that the broiler is off…turn the oven on to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Wash the shrimp, and let them drain well.

Chop garlic (2 cloves or so to your taste) and set a little bit aside (you can cook the shrimp with most of the garlic and add the remaining raw garlic you’ve set aside after the shrimp come out of the oven.)

Toss the shrimp in olive oil, chopped garlic and salt and pepper. Lay them out in a single layer on a tray. Put them in the oven. They too should only take 8-10 minutes at the most. Keep a close eye and pull them out halfway to turn them over.

Toss them with the remaining raw garlic and set aside.

At this point, you can put the seafood in containers and refrigerate until you’re ready to mix with the mayonnaise and serve. I don’t know that I would let it sit too long in the mayonnaise…but maybe I’m just being paranoid.

So…the mayonnaise – this can be a bit of a creative jaunt.

Put the mayonnaise in a mixing bowl.

Add the lemon juice and rind. Mix thoroughly. Add the mustard, celery, green onion, capers and mix.

The key is that this concoction gets to sit in the fridge for a few hours to mature.

When you’re ready to serve, mix the mayonnaise sauce with the lobster and shrimp meat. I shelled the shrimp before putting them in the mixture. (By the way, the shells from both would be a good source for fish stock – if you are partial to that kind of thing).

Toast the bread buns if you desire, then line them with lettuce or greens and spoon the seafood mixture into the crevice. Serve…

And dream of the ocean. May we all get a taste of the ocean in 2013...

no gain, no pain

I started walking home from work again. Or at least an hour of the way home. For exercise, you understand. I'm no martyr.

I'm almost halfway through chemo now, sitting here with my laptop and mug of tea, and able to tell you, that, apart from getting used to the weirdness of having a head more akin to a billiard ball, than a head, so far so good. I'm working full time, and once I'm through the first few days, after the first few waves of nausea are beaten back by drugs, after the Sunday I spend sleeping on the couch, I'm back on track.

So here's the kicker - the week after chemo I feel like I'm eating for Canada. It's not hard for me to have two breakfasts, two sandwiches for lunch, potato chips on demand, fruit, carrot sticks to balance the front part out, sweets, chocolate, double helpings for dinner...

...and so, until this week I was avoiding the subway in fear of germs, but now...I gotta tell you I'm in more fear of cellulite.

Surprised the hell out of me. Lordy - I'd do a logger proud at the table. Or I'd scare him back to the woods.

So some of my graces - you know I always thought I had three graces in my life, but I've discovered my life is full of graces - got together on Tuesday night and we drank wine, we ate dinner, and they cooked freezable meals for me. I'm going to share their recipes if they let me...one of them you'd already know - Wild Mushroom Soup

I now have piles of macaroni & cheese, shepherd's pie, vegetarian chile, and chicken marbella sitting in the freezer, in individual containers - ready to be thawed, heated and consumed...now if I could only remember that order while in my ravenous state.

The other kicker is how strong flavours really entice me - none of this bland, wishy washy stuff - give me flavour. Not heat. Flavour. Heat, bad on the mouth and stomach now. Flavour good on the tongue and palate now.

In this state it's not hard to live in cookbooks. I read them, devour them, live through them.

And having indulged in a beautiful cookbook called Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet by two Canadians who live to travel, cook, then write about it -

huh...note to self...interesting dream job where the kitchen reno would be a write-off...

I was transfixed by the possibility of learning how to make cold spring rolls - the Vietnamese ones. I remember eating them for the first time in a Vietnamese restaurant in Montreal - I was with a group of friends the day after a wedding, the small kitchen restaurant kept rolling these rolls out the door, and I just kept rolling them down my gullet. I was intrigued by the texture of the wrapper, the blend of the vegetables and the fresh kick of the fresh mint. Oh and the dipping sauce.

So when Alford and Duguid wrote that it was entirely within my power to make them in my own small kitchen - I was up at the corner grocer in a flash.

They take some practice. So don't try these as your guests are walking in the door. Unless you're prepared to order pizza.

Rice Paper Roll-Ups with Shrimp and Herbs
- adapted from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid's Hot Sour Salty Sweet

I think the key to these is to prep everything, have it ready to assemble and then go...the other key is what the authors suggest: do it with friends.

12 medium shrimp - I made these with only vegetables, and I imagine you could use anything you fancy...pork strips? chicken?
3-4 oz dried rice vermicelli, soak in warm water for 20 mins and drain
15 rice papers (about 8" in diameter - I used 5" - Use 8", better)
1 1/2 cups bean sprouts, blanched in boiling water for 3o seconds and drained
3/4 cup of grated carrot tossed with 1 tbsp of rice vinegar and 1 tsp sugar
1/2 cup of mint leaves
30 chives, or the greens from scallions that you've cut thinly into slivers
1/2 cup coriander leaves, but I substituted parsley, because there is little I don't like in the fine world of herbs, but coriander is it.

Boil water in a large saucepan. Cook the shrimp until firm to the touch, 1-3 minutes. Lift out immediately and cool on a plate. Shell and devein them and split them lengthwise.

Use the same boiling water to cook the vermicelli, just for two minutes until they're soft. Drain and rinse with cold water.

Place a bowl of warm water nearby - large enough to hold the diameter of the rice wrappers. Wet a tea towel and lay it on the counter or workspace you'll be using. Pull all your ingredients in front of you.

Start by putting one rice paper in the bowl of warm water for 30 seconds until soft. Lift it out gently and lay it on the wet tea towel.

The recipe calls for 1 tbsp of the noodles to be laid on the bottom one third of the wrapper, then the same of the bean sprouts.

I then laid the carrot mixture and herbs on that, then the mint, and started rolling, I added slivers of red pepper since I wasn't using shrimp, and the parsley. Once you have it rolled over once or twice, fold over each edge toward the middle and then keep rolling up. Moisten the edge with water.

Place seam side down on a platter which you keep covered with a second moistened tea towel.

You should really serve these immediately, but apparently they'll keep under the towel and plastic wrap for a couple of hours. We didn't give them the chance.

I love how they suggest serving them: "To eat, place a leaf of lettuce in your palm and lay a roll-up on it. Wrap the lettuce leaf round one end of the roll-up as if you were wrapping a cone in a napkin. Use a small spoon to drizzle on the sauce as you eat, mouthful by mouthful."

Speaking of which, I made up their recipe of "Vietnamese Must-Have Table Sauce" which is wicked easy and delicious. It's a combo of lime juice, fish sauce, water, rice vinegar, sugar, garlic and bird chile...

I'm anxious to dig into some more of these recipes - in fact we're starting to plan our new year's eve annual tasting dinner and this book is a great contender as the anchor of that dinner...upon which our transition into a new year, with new hope, rests...No pressure.

The courses of life

New Year’s Eve. Not my favourite. I feel forced to reckon – with the year, with my place in the world, with my life. I feel forced to be happy.

And I am happy. Dammit.

I just don’t like being told what to feel, and when, and how, and just because it’s December 31st.

So I think many, if not most of us, plaster a smile on our face – adhered best with champagne I believe - and go forth into the night and into the dawn of a new year.

I’ve spent money on the big blowout parties downtown (and been reimbursed with 5 hours of techno, pounding, crappy music), I’ve been to small bars with live music but with about as much room as carp in an aquarium (okay the dancing was fun), I’ve been blottoed into a new year by a pitcher of killer cosmopolitans by an expert friend who had been a bartender in college.

And I’ve woken up resolving: I will NEVER, EVER drink again…I will exercise more, will never drink again, will be nicer, will never drink ever, will save money, especially by not drinking, and reduce debt, again, not ever drinking ever will help…these are not in any particular order.

Last year my resolution was to use the f word less. Seriously. It’s the television folks, I swear.

This year I’m hoping to defeat my tendencies to live by two ethos(es? ethies?): flying by the seat of my pants at the last minute...and the "that'll do" tendency. They're often related -because that's the best I can do if it's at the last minute...if I'd had more time, I'd have done it better...you see the circle circling eh?

So far so good - wait a minute. I just paid December's phone bill today...

So. Resolutions are f... stupid.

Last new years was the year when my friends Jain and Andy first asked if we could cook together for a table full of their friends. I thought that sounded like fun. So we did…long, slow, small courses, with rests in between – it was so successful, I knew we were in danger of having created an exhausting tradition.

We feasted on: Andy’s lentil/lemon soup with homemade yogourt, I found Donna Hay’s recipe for balsamic lamb, roasted and served on a bed of roasted potatoes with green beans, then I made roasted butternut squash risotto with wild mushrooms and my own chicken stock proudly simmering in a big pot at the back, Andy roasted a pork tenderloin with a wondrous mustard sauce and asparagus roasted in balsamic butter. People were lolling around like they were at a food orgy…it was very satisfying. And exhausting. But satisfying.

I hear time dulls pain and tired feet. It is the great healer.

So, almost 360 days later, just before Christmas, we went over to Andy and Jain’s and Andy’s eyes were positively twinkling in anticipation of our new year's eve dinner – like an 8 yr old who can tell it’s a toboggan under the tree.

So the menu negotiations started by email last week:

Lamb cutlets on spicy rice noodles? Did lamb last year.

Roasted veal tenderloin? Veal? Like No.

Wild mushroom risotto? Ditto, risotto last year. And Jain not so much into the ground fungus.

A winter salad with roasted nuts, goat cheese, pomegranate on greens? I’m saladed out. How does anyone get saladed out?

It all sounded good to me. Well, except for the veal.

Back and fork we went.

On the day, we went over early to start prepping…and Andy plastered a smile on my face with a delicious, crisp glass of sparkling wine. Just to get the creative juices flowing. No forced happiness here. I threw on my apron with élan.

We were feeding seven. The table looked like nature had spread itself open in anticipation – Jain has a natural gift for flower arranging and table setting – dried rose petals had settled down the centre, two small bouquets of flowers anchored each end and tea lights flickered here and there.

So my dear Steve and I joined our friends and did what seems to give me great pleasure and comfort and happiness - we ate our way into 2007 – a year that promises change, risk, challenge, and overflowing with potential…

I made a creamy butternut squash and pear soup, pushed a little with fresh ginger and nutmeg.

Steve then prepped pan-seared scallops in herb butter that we served on basmati rice to which I’d added caramelized onion and dried cranberries. We were going to kabob these on the bbq so they'd have that great smoky flavour, but the weather was not cooperating, so we pan fried some red/yellow peppers and some cherry tomatoes to dot over the rice as well.

I got the salads plated after that. Arugula with granny smith apple and fennel slices, bejeweled by pomegranate seeds and finished with curls of parmesan cheese and a drizzle of raspberry vinaigrette.

Then Andy and I thought pasta or something close would be timely. I made a tomato sauce that morning with a slight kick. Then I found a recipe from Jamie Oliver for a ravioli filling - ricotta, roasted pine nuts, generous portions of grated parmesan, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Polenta sandwiches...of course.

I took two slices of polenta and sandwiched the ricotta filling on the inside. I baked them for 15 minutes, then ladled some tomato sauce over it, and topped it with some roughly ripped basil leaves – and a little more grated parmesan to finish it off…people actually gasped...wow.

Then the front door opened and our friends Karen and Steve arrived from their flight home from Vancouver (where Karen had made the tagine recipe for her family). So we set two more places and the main course came to the table.

Andy brought out a magnificent sirloin roast that he’d cooked with a fig wine sauce. He served it with green beans doused in pine nut butter and roasted potatoes we’d cut into fingers that could be dipped in a thickened garlic/spring onion yogurt sauce.

By now it was 11:50pm…and 2007 was going to be brought in with champagne and dessert…it was perfect.

We did it without the television – just relying on our own sense of time and the clock on the DVD player…that was as close as we got to Times Square.

Once we’d settled down, Jain brought out martini glasses filled with tiramisu…smooth, creamy, with a kick…and she says she doesn't cook.

By about 2:30, I was still sitting at the end of the table, leaning back in my chair, almost sliding out of it but for the need to nurse my second cup of coffee, looking at the refuse of a table after a feast - looking at people's faces glowing in the last of the tea lights - everyone wiping tears of laughter as they listened to stories by a couple of gifted, natural storytellers - catching Steve's eyes and locking on for a few seconds - and thinking.

New Years. I reckon crossing the divide with a full belly, a champagne flute, a great love of my life to kiss is just about all the reckoning I need. My tastes and philosphies are simple.

This is how traditions start. Beware.

Or at least wear comfortable shoes.

And Happy New Year.

Back to School

The part about September that I like so much is that it feels like a new beginning.

I think Labour Day should be a kind of New Year's Eve. It's a time for new starts.

I was one of those geeks who actually got excited about the first day of school.

It was the only time I actually planned and laid out my clothes the night before. I remember my new desk, brand new exercise books, textbooks that didn't have swear words inked on the page edges yet (back in the days when you didn't have to share), a fresh supply of pens, virgin erasers, and getting to smell newly-sharpened pencils as I lifted the desk lid (really aging myself).

For a few minutes it was as neat as the instruments on a surgical tray. Of course it never lasted long.

As much as I got along well in school, the only remarks I remember on my very respectable report card, was that "she could be neater".

Details, details... Perfection is elusive.

Steve's sister Barb did this painting of an apple. It's not a photo. I'm not kidding.

Barb starts back at school herself tomorrow - a classical artist with natural talent who has never stopped training herself throughout her life. She pays the rent with animation jobs mostly, and now is adding more digital skills to her repertoire. It's not just talent, it's hard work. Striving for more, for perfection. It's a difficult, painful way to happiness...but what beauty we get to see along the way...