One Never Knows Who Their Friends Are

Yesterday was the first market of the season. It was a great day only clouded by an inexperienced and overly self-important health inspector. Her very late approval of my Vendor Permit meant that I was not able to offer my full menu. I don't just pull all this food out of my back pocket, after all. Does she really think I can purchase many of my amazing ingredients here in this 'three hours from anywhere' prairie town? I think it was her attitude that punctuated my lack-lustre winter.

There were two of us early to set up our market stalls. So, Marion asks, how have you been? I don't know why but I told her the truth. Perhaps it was because it was only the two of us. Or that I had reached the limit of my patience with this place. But I honestly told her I had a difficult winter. I had depression. That simple confession and her heartfelt response seemed to lift a weight off my body. I held back tears (until now) and chatted a little about how unfriendly (albeit nice) people really are. How absorbed in their lives that they cannot actually find it in themselves to accept someone new. She agreed and added her two cents worth about her little village.

Retirement can be like this. At least it has been for me. I grew up in this province but people are extremely local in mindset. Five hours away may as well be across the ocean. There is very little to link us other than politics.

But five hours away can bring a whole new menu. Last night I celebrated by playing with the food that arrived in my monthly Foraging Box from northern Saskatchewan.

Burn Morel Risotto with Dandelion Greens

1 c. arborio rice
1 small shallot
2 tbsp. butter
2 tbsp. olive oil
1/2 c. dry white wine
1 c. parmesan stock
water
1/2 c. fresh morels, coarsely chopped
1/4 c. grated parmesan and more to garnish
a few dandelion greens
more butter
quail eggs

Saute shallots and morels in butter and olive oil. Add rice and coat with oil. Add wine and simmer until almost completely reduced.

Warm the parmesan stock and gradually add, one ladle at a time to the rice. Then continue the same with water until the rice is cooked to al dente. Stir in grated parmesan. Set aside.

Steam dandelion greens in a little water until tender. Add a little butter to coat. Season with sea salt.

To poach eggs, bring a small pot of water to the simmer. You can add a tablespoon of vinegar if you wish. This will make the egg coagulate faster. Break the eggs into separate bowls. When the water is simmering, slip each egg into it and maintain the slow simmer. It will only take about a minute or two to cook. Remove from the water with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towel.

To serve, place risotto in the bowl. Top with dandelion greens and finally the poached quail eggs. Garnish with more grated parmesan. Bon Appetito.

A New Day, A New Year

There will never be a New Year’s Eve to eclipse the epic December 31, 1999. The sense of anticipation was palpable. For heaven’s sake, computers had not been programmed to turn over to the new millennium, we were told. The fear of havoc for mankind as we knew it was pervasive. I had my emergency preparedness kit at the ready.

I had a dinner party that night and remember a friend came with a magnum of unchilled Baby Duck. I stuck in the freezer compartment of my refrigerator and forgot about it. Good news. It froze and burst! I didn't have to drink it!

Every New Year’s Eve since has been anti-climactic. I am now back to mundane resolutions and dreams of a new life miraculously appearing before me when the last page of the calendar is ripped off and tossed.

As the new year blossoms I regret not being better at staying in touch with old friends. Old friends are the best friends. We pick up where we left off as if time stood still. Old friends seldom let you down.  Now I feel I am letting them down.

It happens. You move. Get busy. Don’t call. Lose touch.

Another interesting piece with retirement is the reconnection with people from the past who actually are not friends. It goes like this, “So I see you have retired. What are you doing?” Me, naïve and one who always thinks the best of people answers in vivid detail and with questions about their life. Waiting. For. Communication.

There is something about being retired that brings similarly positioned people to call. They want to talk about themselves. They want to brag. They tell me about vacation homes and moving to a warmer climate. But they never continue the conversation. Interesting.

Pomegranates represent good luck in Turkey for many reasons: Their red color, which represents the human heart, denotes life and fertility; their medicinal properties represent health; and their abundant, round seeds represent prosperity — all things everyone hopes for in any fresh start. (WomansDay.com)

Chocolate Pomegranate Torte

from Fine Cooking

This is not local food in any way but what a nice way to ring in the new year. As if chocolate wasn’t healthy enough it is combined with superfood pomegranate. There is a double dose of antioxidants in this. You won’t age a bit this year. Promise.

Serves 12 to 14

• 1/4 c. softened unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces; more for the pan
• 6 oz. bittersweet chocolate (70% or 72% cacao)
• 3 large eggs, separated
• 3/4 c. granulated sugar
• 1/4 tsp. table salt
• 1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
• 1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour

For the Pomegranate Jelly:

• 1 medium cooking apple
• 1 1/2 c. pure unsweetened pomegranate juice
• 1/4 c. plus 2 tbsp. granulated sugar
• 12 fresh or frozen cranberries

For the Glaze:

• 6 oz. bittersweet chocolate (70% or 72% cacao), chopped medium fine
• 6 tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
• 1 tbsp. honey or light corn syrup
• Pinch table salt

• Fresh pomegranate seeds, for garnish (optional)

Make the Cake:

Position a rack in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease the sides of a 9x2-inch round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment.

Finely grate 2 oz. of the chocolate and set aside. Coarsely chop the remaining chocolate and combine with the butter and 3 Tbs. water in a heatproof bowl. Set the bowl in a skillet of barely simmering water and stir frequently until the mixture is melted and smooth. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks with 1/2 cup of the sugar and the salt until thick and lightened in color.

In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar at medium-high speed to soft peaks, about 2 minutes. With the motor running, gradually add the remaining 1/4 cup sugar, beating to stiff peaks, 1 to 2 minutes more.

Whisk the warm chocolate and the flour into the yolk mixture. With a rubber spatula, fold one-quarter of the whites into the chocolate batter. Scrape the remaining whites into the chocolate mixture and sprinkle the grated chocolate on top. Fold together. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and spread it evenly.

Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out smudged with a few moist crumbs, about 25 minutes. Cool in the pan on a rack for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the cake and invert it onto another rack. Remove the pan and parchment and invert the cake onto the first rack (it's normal for the cake to have a crusty exterior that may crack with handling). Let cool completely.

Make the Pomegranate Jelly:

Grate enough of the apple (including the peel) to yield 3/4 cup. In a medium saucepan, bring the grated apple, pomegranate juice, sugar, and cranberries to a simmer over medium heat. Simmer, covered, until the apple is softened and the mixture has thickened a little, about 10 minutes. Uncover and continue to simmer, stirring occasionally at first and then constantly towards the end, until the liquid has evaporated and the mixture is reduced to 3/4 cup, about 5 minutes.

With a rubber spatula, press the pulp through a medium-mesh strainer into a bowl until you can't get any more juice out of the pulp. Scrape all of the juice clinging to the bottom of the strainer into the bowl and discard the pulp in the strainer.

Brush away any loose crumbs and easily detachable crusty pieces from the sides and top of the cake. Transfer the cake to a cardboard circle or tart pan bottom.

Stir the jelly to blend it, scrape it onto the cake, and spread it evenly over the top. Let the jelly cool until it's set, about 1 hour. At this point, the cake may be covered with an inverted cake pan, wrapped in plastic (the pan keeps the plastic from touching the cake), and stored at room temperature for up to 2 days.

Make the Glaze:

Put the chocolate, butter, honey, and salt in a heatproof bowl set in a skillet of barely simmering water. Stir gently until the chocolate melts and the mixture is perfectly smooth. Remove from the heat and stir in 2 Tbs. cool water. Let cool to room temperature without stirring. If not using right away, cover and store at room temperature. 

Set the cake on a rack set over a baking sheet. With an offset spatula, spread 1/3 cup of the glaze around the sides of the cake and on top of the gel (be careful not to disturb the gel) to smooth the surfaces and glue on any crumbs. Re-warm the remaining glaze gently to 90°F in a skillet of barely simmering water—the glaze should have the consistency of thick, pourable cream.

Scrape all of the glaze onto the top of the cake. Spread the glaze over the top and all around the sides. For the shiniest glaze, work quickly and use as few strokes as possible. Scoop up any excess glaze from the baking sheet and use it to cover bare spots.

Garnish with pomegranate seeds and let the cake rest on the rack for 10 minutes. Transfer to a cake plate and let sit at room temperature until set, 15 to 30 minutes, or up to several hours before serving.

"You have given me everything I need."

Retirement isn't 'all about us'. In its essence it means we are of a certain age. Everyone around us has also reached a certain age. Friends are our reflection, children are our soul and parents our conscience. Frail, reflective on their accomplishments and worrisome of what they have not given and what they can still give, parents are the embodiment of love. They forever give.

My father is still alive at 89 and I wonder, if I will be so lucky to be present, what he would say on his deathbed. Would he feel he failed us in any way? Would he be proud of us? Would he rest that we are okay?

Death becomes personal and selfish. We feel a great loss, I imagine. We can never be truly prepared. But, honestly, we only think of ourselves. Our loss.

Perhaps this is why I was so touched by my cousin's simple remark. "Dad, you have given me everything I need." I had to turn away in fear tears would stream down my cheeks. I had no words. But isn't that the most cherished thing a child could say to a parent? A gift beyond measure. A gift that would allow them to pass feeling proud and fulfilled.

My family is a proud clan of fishermen. We enjoy line caught fish as often as beef or chicken. My uncle, Doc as everyone called him, was the master of all fishermen. It was befitting that after his funeral we enjoyed pan fried pickerel cheeks.

The legacy has been picked up by my cousin, his son, Cary. This recipe handed down by my uncle and tweaked by my cousin will be my 'go to' way to prepare walleye.

Pan Fried Walleye

walleye fillets
 butter
panko bread crumbs
flour
slightly beaten egg
milk
salt, pepper

Dredge fish fillets in flour seasoned with salt and pepper. Dip in beaten egg thinned with a bit of milk and dredge in panko bread crumbs. Pan fry in butter that has been heated to bubbling. Turn once and serve.

My Advice...Have Something to Look Forward To

I grew up on a homesteaded grain farm in southeastern Saskatchewan during the 1960's. Our history was tilled as regularly as our land. My father didn't sit around telling stories; they were a part of our every day farm life.

Winters were long. And cold. We looked forward to summer. Summer meant Sundays swimming at Sandy Beach at White Bear Lake, or Carlyle Lake as it was called back then. Summer meant fresh shelled peas and corn on the cob.

Summer meant fresh B.C. fruit. We were so excited when our cases of cherries, peaches, apricots and pears arrived, ordered through the grocery store in town. I watched and later helped my Mom preserve these fruits. Our taste was simple. Whole and sliced fruits were cold packed with hot sugar syrup. We had a canner but we also had a boiler. I have no idea how many jars this oblong copper vessel held. It was intended for serious canning and we used it every summer.

We especially loved cherries. We jarred them whole with pit and stem on and enjoyed the end of the meal eating them like finger food and slurping up the syrupy juice.

Years later I am surprised to find myself forgetting the little things that bring joy. Something to look forward to is just as important now as when I was a child. I wonder if that is the void I am feeling. I long for the naive wonder of a child ecstatic over a jar of preserved cherries.

Summer meant watching the aurora borealis and fireflies. Summer was when my younger sister and I would run away from the farmhouse and play under a thatch of bushes in a bluff in the middle of a wheat field. We made it our secret hideaway.

In a few days I will be vacationing with a cousin and his family at Emma Lake. It is taking me back to the wonderful anticipation I held for summer. I fondly remember his father, my uncle, taking us in his motor boat across to the other side of Carlyle Lake. There is a nice little beach with big rocks where we sunned like a turn of turtles. There are big tree trunks completely submerged in the water offering proof that the lake had been dry at one time and for a very long time, my father avowed.

"It has been said that we need just three things in life: something to do, something to look forward to, someone to love."  Maya Angelou

Pickled Cherries with Five Spice

I still wait in awesome wonder for the beautiful British Columbia tree fruits. My palate has changed over the years but the love of the fruit endures.

Traditional Chinese Five Spice is a combination of star anise, Sichuan peppercorns, cloves, cinnamon and fennel. This works well with the sweetness of cherries. Frozen cherries work as well as fresh. Use non-reactive bowls and pots, such as glass or stainless steel, when working with acids such as vinegar. Serve these cherries with pork, duck or with a cheese and charcuterie plate.

4 c. bing cherries 1 L

2 c. cider vinegar 50 mL

1 c. sugar 250 mL

2/3 c. water 150 mL

1 small cinnamon stick

2 tsp. Sichuan peppercorns, optional 10 mL

5-6 whole cloves

3-4 whole star anise

2 tsp. fennel seeds 10 mL

4 pint jars (500 mL)

Stem and pit cherries and let sit overnight in the vinegar.

Prepare jars by washing in clean soapy water. Place sealer lid in a pot of hot water to soften the rubber seal.

In a saucepan add sugar, water and spices. Drain the vinegar from the cherries and add it to the saucepan. Set cherries aside.

Heat vinegar mixture and simmer for 10 minutes. Let the liquid cool to room temperature then pour over the cherries. Cover with a plate to submerge and put a towel or plastic wrap over the bowl. Let sit at room temperature for two to three days.

Using a slotted spoon remove the cherries first and rinse them in a colander to remove as much of the spices as possible.  Then strain the liquid through a couple of layers of cheesecloth. Bring the liquid to a boil. Fill jars with cherries leaving room for a quite a bit of liquid. Pour liquid over the cherries leaving a headspace of 1/4 inch. Top with a new canning lid and finger tighten a ring. Process in a hot water bath for 20 minutes. Remove from water bath and cool overnight. Store in a cold room or pantry for a month before using. Makes about 3 pints (3 – 500 mL jars).

 

Mumbled and Jumbled Days

I did not visualize retirement. I had no mind's eye picture. In fact, it wasn't on my radar.

Even now after almost six years life seems surreal. I relax in my back garden wondering who planted the delphiniums. Why did they not let the fallen pine cones accumulate rather than attempting to grow grass where grass doesn't want to grow?

I sit in my wicker chair beneath towering pines whose boughs nearly touch the earth and listen to the mournful call of doves, wondering if any bird will ever make the little house on said pine, gifted to me by children on the Colony, home as I sip on a glass of chianti.

I sit here in the quietness of a summer's warm evening and ponder my lot in life. I am fortunate to have the freedom to follow my whims but at the same time I don't know what for I wish. I ask, I seek, I listen. Nothing. Am I to be here without direction? When? When will the message arrive?

Most of all I yearn for socializing. How much longer must I wait or am I overlooking the obvious?

Fortunately I have met interesting people in cyberspace. Elisabeth Poscher of Prairie Infusions is one of those people. She is a professional forager in northern Saskatchewan. Her chanterelles and morels grace the finest tables in Canada and the States.

This year she has begun a CSF, Community Supported Foraging, subscription. Once a month a box of freshly plucked produce arrives from the boreal forests of Saskatchewan. I love the challenge. Last month a few of the items in my box were wild rose petals, Labrador tea, morels, SK maple syrup, stinging nettles and fiddleheads.

This box is my Christmas gift to myself. I await with great anticipation.

Tomato Salad with Ricotta and Wild Mint

Wild mint is to garden mint as rose petals are to gardenias. The delicate flavour adds that "je ne sais quoi" to salads and side dishes. 

If you make your own ricotta, this is the time to use it. Also choose the juiciest and most flavourful tomatoes you can find. Birch syrup takes on a flavour similar to aged balsamic vinegar. Camelina oil has an earthy flavour.

2 tomatoes

1/2 c. fresh ricotta 125 mL

camelina oil

birch syrup

wild mint leaves

sea salt

Cut tomatoes in thick slices and place one in the centre of each plate. Top with a small scoop of fresh ricotta. Drizzle with camelina oil. Garnish with sea salt, mint leaves and a drizzle of birch syrup. Serve immediately.

Unplugged in a Plugged in World

"All the goodwill you bank over a lifetime is poof, gone, when you retire and move to a new community. That's a hard pill to swallow and one I hadn't considered in my plan. I have expectations. I am accustomed to a certain level of treatment. But how would these people know I am a marketing genius and well learned in life's lessons. Too often they simply treat me like an old lady."     Sarah


It all started when one day I mentioned in the staff room that I don't text.

No, that is not true actually. Shortly after I moved into my house I began planning the renovation. This dear old soul of a home was a total fixer upper and needed everything. The story starts when I hired a neighbourhood man to take out my half dead crabapple tree.

As all conversations begin with small talk I eventually mentioned my plan to paint the exterior of my 1960's stucco and wood sided home. "You can't do that. The paint won't stick. It'll all peel off," a man about my age avowed. In my mind, I said, "Really? I sold real estate for 30 years and have seen hundreds of renovations. Of course stucco can be painted." I really did say this to myself in my mind. I'm new in town and also a woman in the wild west. There was no point in challenging the wisdom of the locals. Especially a local man.

"It's just an age thing,"  says a teacher at the high school. Pardon me? Are you talking down to me because I appear to be older than you? You know nothing about me. If you have a few hours let me tell you a little bit about myself. This was about texting.   

I spent 30 years of my life selling real estate in a city of a million people. I was at my client's beckoned call 24/7 for 7,950 days or 190,800 hours. You all might think texting is necessary but actually, it isn't. Very few of us are so important that we need to be in constant touch with the outside world. Children will survive, friends will get back to you, the world really does not need your two cents with your every breathing thought.

Slow Food Saskatoon Porchetta

I have been a member of Slow Food International for a full two years now. I heard about the Slow Food organization while I lived in Calgary. It felt rather elitist. The Canadian National Conference was in Osoyoos and I had been coveting a food tour in the Okanagan. That was the clencher to make me a member, elitist or otherwise.

I have no regrets. Slow Food is all about fair... fair prices for the farmers and farm workers, clean ... real food without complications of excessive chemicals, genetic modifying and good ... yes, it is okay to enjoy food. Slow Food encourages the pure enjoyment of clean, fair food.

The Slow Food movement began in Rome at the bottom of the Spanish Steps. McDonalds was opening their first European restaurant, in Italy of all places. Italy is renowned for its food.

I know this because my former neighbour's girlfriend's young children told me so. They love their nonna and quite unapologetically told me one day that Italian food is the best food in the world.  I have held Italian food in high regard since I heard those sage words from the mouths of a babes.

There is more to it than enjoyment of real food. There is the Ark of Taste. It is a throw back to Noah when every species boarded the ark in pairs. This Ark is a depository of unique regional food. For example, saskatoon berries and red fife wheat are on board from the prairies. This Ark brings attention to historical and indigenous foods. Foods that should not be lost.

You might not think that foods can be lost but just take a look at rhinos. Their numbers are dangerously low. Think, if no one buys the Berkshire pig would anyone be able to afford to raise them? If no one raises them, they will be lost. So you don't think it matters if we lose 30 varieties of apples. Biodiversity is more important than ever. It is a fact that we are experiencing climate change. If the five varieties of apples that are the current favourites cannot survive the changing weather, then what? I can't imagine a world without apples.

Recently I volunteered at the Saskatoon convivium's annual fundraiser dinner. Porchetta was the entree and it was absolutely, without a doubt delicious. This is my rendition of their recipe.

Slow Food Saskatoon Porchetta

1 whole pork butt, boneless

 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup chopped garlic
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 cup chopped fresh sage
2 tablespoons fresh ground fennel seed
2 tablespoons fresh zest of lemon and orange
1/4 cup kosher salt
2 tablespoons fresh cracked black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Using a sharp knife, slice open the butt, following the fat cap, until you are able to roll it flat.

Make a paste with the olive oil, garlic, fresh herbs, fennel seeds and zest. Take half of the salt and sprinkle the exposed inside of the butt. Do the same with half of the black pepper. Pour the herb paste onto the butt. Spread evenly into the meat. Roll the meat up back onto itself creating a large pinwheel of pork and herbs. Secure the roast together using butchers twine. Sprinkle the outside of the roast with the remaining salt and pepper.

Place the butt onto a roasting rack inside of a roasting pan. Place the butt into the oven and cook for 3 1/2 to 4 hours, or until the inside is 140 degrees F. Let cool and slice. Serve with jus.

Jus

1 tbsp. olive oil

pan drippings

2 c. beef stock

1 tbsp. each dried thyme, rosemary, sage

1 clove garlic, minced

1 onion, coarsely chopped

Pour a tablespoon of olive oil into a medium sized pot. Saute onion and add garlic. Saute for a minute. Add rest of herbs. After a minute or two add beef stock. Simmer and reduce stock by one half. Pass through a sieve.

We're born alone...

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.”    Orson Welles

Of late I have had a pervasive feeling of loneliness. At times I have felt abandoned or betrayed by new friends. I call this loneliness and not aloneness. Welles speaks of aloneness of which I am also very familiar.

I have travelled alone and know the feeling of wanting another human being for simple conversation. I know the carefulness I practice in foreign countries after dark. Now I know aloneness in a new context. I am alone in a small town, a small town where everyone knows everyone, and I know no one.

It’s true what they say about small towns. I will never belong. I will always be that woman who moved here from Calgary and lives on Bothwell Drive, in the Elkink house. I will forever be referred to as the woman who lives in the Elkink house.

Everything is referred to by a previous local owner’s name or business name. For example, you know the market in the museum building, meet me there. Or it’s in the location of the old Peavey Mart. Or that restaurant is in the old Casey’s location. Meanwhile, I have no term of reference for any of these names or places. It isn't as though I can look it up somewhere.

I am not quite sure how I would have navigated this without my dear friend, Miss Sugar. She consoles me with her kisses, reasons with me with her meows and sedates me with her purrs. In this moment of illusion I am not alone.

Lamb Loin Chops with Farro Salad Dinner for One

I have been intrigued with farro since I had it in a salad back in the spring while I was in Kelowna. The grains have a slightly nutty flavour and when cooked al dente add nice texture to the meal. However, it isn't easy to find farro. When I was in the city I visited the health food store and found a few packages in the sale bin. I wish I had purchased more than one.

Farro is an ancient grain that is popular in the Mediterranean. Finding exact details is about as difficult as finding the grain itself. Most information tells me it is an ancient wheat. One source says that spelt, emmer and einkorn are called farro in Italy. The difference mainly is the size of the kernel. These three grains are considered farro. So don't be surprised if the farro you buy today is a little different from the farro you buy tomorrow.

I cook this like I cook all my grains and rice, in plenty of water. I cook until almost al dente, strain it and place a clean tea towel over so it can steam for awhile. I like a clean grain so if it is still a bit sticky, rinse under cold water, strain and let air dry.

The lamb loin chops are simply seasoned with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper and seared in a pan with olive oil on both sides. Remove from pan and tent with foil for 10 minutes. Serve.

Farro Salad
1 cup farro
1/2 tomato, cubed
2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
1/2 cup crumbled feta
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons tarragon wine vinegar

Cook farro as described above. When it is dry add the remainder of the ingredients and toss to coat. Serve.