Valentine's Traditions

Valentine's morning was always special growing up in the Reems household. We've blogged before about the Reems love of tradition - on February 14th this meant candy and chocolate at the breakfast table, an assortment of homemade cards from each sibling and parents at our place settings. Joan (Mom) always did the grunt work in the festivity set-up but it was Guy's (Dad's) job to write the personalized Valentine poems. These weren't epic odes that were lovingly pondered over, no these were hasty limric scrawls with a few puns thrown in for good measure. I found a sample in my crawlspace (I often accuse Mike of being a horder but I have several shoe boxes full of cards that I've amassed from about age 6 onwards). I'm guessing this is circa about 1995: 

I came across sibling cards as well;  for me this card-exchanging tradition continued right until I left home at age 22 - I will need confirmation from the younger siblings  but I'm sure that the homemade card swap went strong until it was just Rachel and the parents sitting over their Valentine pancakes. Again, the level of artistic investment varied from year to year, but not breaking with tradition was paramount. Here is a sampling:

Now on Valentine's Eve I am 40 weeks pregnant and counting, wondering if tomorrow will be the day I might be popping out little Romeo or Valentino - I've thought like this for the last 10 days or so, but now that my due date has come and gone the impending arrival is never far from my mind. I wonder how a February 14th birthday will fit into the Campbell Valentine's tradition?

Oh right, this is a food blog - 

The kiddies and I have been busy with Valentine day preparations - today we made Chocolate Heart Sugar Cookies today from Baking A Moment. They were a big hit- though if I could of cut the 2-year-old with a fondness for chocolate dough and icing sugar frosting out of the process it might have felt a little more relaxing.

I'm off to lay out the construction hearts and requisite candy offerings. Go squeeze your honey.

My sister Haley and I began writing Reems Eats in 2008 in an effort to share recipes with one another. We've always loved to talk about food. I still remember teasing a teenage Haley when she returned from a holiday with a friend's family. When we asked her to fill us in on the trip, she promptly listed all the delicious items she'd eaten over the weekend. Friends, activities, sites and the other usual weekend-out humdrum faded into the background as meals scooted onto center stage. While I laughed at Haley's menu touting, I inevitably plied her for details and listened with the jealous rapture of a younger sister.

In 2007 I was newly married. While I'd like to think that I bucked the gender roles (he did and does the laundry), the more realistic version is that I was excited to tie an apron around my waist and play the little wifey. While I was enthusiastic about preparing meals I wasn't overly experienced. I could follow simple instructions for baking, and I'd eaten enough of Mom's healthy stir fries to have a general gist of the rules of concoction, but I really knew very little about the basic elements of cooking.  I wanted to learn. I started taking cookbooks out of the library and scrolling through the many foodie websites available online. Every time I tried a new recipe, I was awed when I met with success (bread will rise!) and  crushed when by knocked down by defeat (I dropped my first pie face down and hot on the kitchen linoleum). I was generally very 'into' it all.

My husband continually told our friends, often the eager recipients of my new hobby, that he never expected I'd be such a cook. I think he meant to say that he didn't demand this sort of culinary attention, and that the whole rigmarole was my own doing. Because I'd say that the warning signs of a food love affair where all there: the obsessing over a menu at a new or regularly-visited eatery; the focus on meal times--never skipped, always loved; and the willingness to try new things and follow directions. These were all central to my pre-home-cook self. I suppose the biggest tell was my relationship with my family. Our clan has always been very 'clanish,' as L.M. would say. And, as L.M. would also say, we've always had 'a liking for a tasty bite.'

Like many families, feasts have always been central to our gatherings, from stacks of Dutch pancakes with Grandma to strawberry picking in the farmer's field (one for the bucket, two for the mouth, as our littlest but tallest sister liked to say) to deluxe BBQ spreads with home-made EVERYTHING for birthdays and congratulation days. Blessed with fast metabolisms, we've always been ready for the next nibble. Actually, this Reems metabolism has been both our greatest blessing and fiercest curse, allowing us to sample the riches of the world's table but leaving us to melt into puddles of pure emotion if left to go too hungry for too long. Many of our spouses can attribute to the threat of marital discourse that lurks when a Reems is left unfed.

All this to say, that I wanted to share my cooking adventures with my family, who now seemed rather distant as the sphere of my life moved to a ramshackle apartment in an old house on Blackwood Street. A family blog seemed the perfect way to share ideas and creative inspiration. When I set up the blog, I assumed that all six of us would contribute. I figured all my siblings, and my parents, would be eager to take photos of their meals, write accompanying anecdotes, and post the lot online.

As it turns out, my family members lead busy lives. They have children and careers and dogs and Bible studies, and sports teams, and friends and hobbies. Plus they have to get dinner on the table.

Happily, Haley was on a mat leave in 2008 and as the oldest and confirmed kindest child in the family, has never been able to say no to any of us. And so Haley and  I began to exchange posts on ReemsEats.

We wrote about our small kitchens (me) our kids (her) and the random fun things we like to do with our food.

We've never had very many followers.

We've never had very good pictures.

We've never even been all that great at getting down the recipes.

But what we've always loved is the spirit of the thing.

And while we've both had busy years... Haley's due to give birth in one week and is just launching into a mat leave... when I asked Haley if she'd be willing to start blogging again (it's been quite some time since this blog saw any activity), she being a lover of all that is tasty and pretty much the best older sister any girl could have, she said yes, and sat back and waited for me to get the first post rolling as promised.

It took a few weeks.

But here I am to celebrate to a new year, a new look for the blog, and a new baby! (Coming soon...)


Check out my first post on ReemsEats in 2008.

Whole Wheat Hamburglar

I lost the last of my wisdom this past week. It didn't stand a chance against a pair of pliers and Dr. Theissen's vise gripe. I bore witness to the whole ugly scene as my dentist elected to freeze my gums as opposed to knocking me out. I don't remember much. I saw him pick up the pliers...

At some point his assistant in green scrubs said, "Oh, you bent them...your favourite tool." It was then that Dr. Theissen complimented me on my wardrobe choice--he loved my blazer. With my head back stuffed full of metal and gauze, I emitted the obligatory dentist-chair-chat moan.

Finally, he really reefed on that bottom tooth. He withdraw and I somehow gasped, "You get it?" And he somehow understood the questions. I suppose his is the trained ear.

Nope. He was just loosening the tooth up. Back in. Reef, reef, reef...Done.

The hygienist pushed a wad of gauze into the hole in the back of my mouth and said, "You don't look so good."

The cool part is, she let me look at my once-wise teeth. The roots were startlingly long. The insides were black with cavity. Yikes. Forget wisdom.

I now embrace frivolity. And what's more frivolous then sliders? Okay, lots of things, probably. But I'm still Joan's daughter and I know the value of an awesome whole wheat bun. We made these mini burgers on Saturday night and they really were delicious. The whole wheat bun is soft and light. The whole grains also give the buns a more robust flavour. If you happen to live somewhere with a whole grains mill handy (like Chilliwack with Anita's Flour or Victoria with True Grains in Cowichan), try purchasing a bag of whole wheat flour and you'll be impressed at the unique flavour of the small-batch grains. Just a little frivolous tip!

Spring is certianly upon us and we're all ready for BBQs and hibachi's on the beach. Of course, most of us have our own awesome burger recipe but in my world, what pulls the burger from mediocrity and into the the spotlight with gold dust, is an incredible bun. Some of you might have access to a bakery with the perfect burger buns, but I have yet to obtain easy access to a fabulous bun source. Happily, buns are pretty easy to make. I like to make a big batch and freeze a bunch for future burger nights. Thawed and toasted, they'll be far more delicious then anything you pick up at the grocery store.

Whole Wheat Hamburger Buns

1 plus 1/2 Tbsp yeast
2 cups warm water
1 Tbsp salt
2 Tbsp melted butter
3 cups whole wheat flour
2 cups all purpose flour
milk
pumpkin seeds

Dissolve the yeast in the water. in a large bowl Let proof for 5 to 10 minutes. Add 2 cups of the whole wheat flour, the salt, and the butter. Stir to combine. Add the remaining flour cup by cup, stirring after each addition.

You will know have a shaggy mound of dough. Turn it onto a lightly floured counter and knead for about five minutes. Add a little flour as needed to prevent sticking. You will have a smooth dough. Don't add too much flour as you don't want a tough lump. The dough should not be sticky. If it is quite sticky, add flour by the tablespoon as you knead.

Let the dough rise in a covered bowl for 24 to 90 minuted -- until doubled.

Punch the dough down and divide it into 18 pieces. Form each piece into a ball. Let the balls rest, covered, for 5 to 10 minutes. Now use your palm to flatten each ball into a disk that is 1 inch thick. Move the disks onto a cookie tray covered in parchment paper or lightly greased.

Preheat your oven to 400.

Cover the buns and let them rise for 30-45 minutes. They will be soft and puffy when risen.

Brush the buns with milk and sprinkle with pumpkin seeds. Use your hands to gently push in the seeds.

Bake the buns for 20-25 minutes. 

Slow Cooker Pulled Pork

I'm solo parenting for a week. Mike's in Belize; I suspect he was a touch guilty about leaving me and our little brood - he was protesting a bit too loudly that he wasn't going on a holiday: that leading a group of more than 40, mostly hormone fueled teenagers, on a service learning expedition wasn't going to leave a lot of time for relaxing on the beach. As I hopped the puddle from my broken washing machine en route to stopping my toddler from having a bath in the toilet bowl (AGAIN), I had my doubts. I'd just checked the Belizian weather report: 26 degrees. Chilliwack: 9 degrees with a steady drizzle.

But that was Thursday, and it's Monday and we're all still happily standing. And eating. Mike's away so BRING ON THE MEAT!

We were too busy inhaling to stop and take a photo, so you'll have to imagine the sauce dripping buns of meaty goodness. I know that pulled pork has been around for a long time, but it's only been recently that it's entered my life. I couldn't fight destiny. There were greater foodie elements at work: cookbooks mysteriously falling open to pulled pork recipes. My beloved Vancouver Sun Wednesday Food section: Pulled Pork. Even Joan (our mom) was asking me for pulled pork recipes over the phone. Which I couldn't supply, I'D NEVER MADE IT. I felt sheepish. To top it off last month we went to Gary and Louise 's place for lunch, and what was on the menu? Pulled pork. Of course it was delicious, Gary is Mike's old roommate and a gourmet chef on the side. My picky husband didn't even look at the shredded meat  and was busy constructing a sweet potato fry sandwich, crazy.

It didn't even cross my mind to make this on the barbecue. I pulled out my trusty Mr. Crock to help me out. And he really did most of the work. You could follow my recipe (which was really easy) or you could get even easier and just chuck a seasoned pork roast in the slow cooker with a cup of water on low for the day, then shred it, dump the water and mix the pork with a cup of barbecue sauce. I'm sure it would taste fabulous. I'm almost positive that pulled pork in a slow cooker is impossible to screw up. The worst thing you could do is use a dry bun. The best thing you could do would be to make my go-to hamburger buns courtesy of Canadian Living. And maybe some coleslaw.

Slow Cooker Pulled-Pork
(This is a from few recipes combined, some had a dry rub or a marinade but I skipped this and still had a delicious final product) 

Combine the following in the slow cooker:

1 shoulder roast (my local grocery store had: Great for Pulled Pork on the label, I'm not sure how big it was)
Small can crushed tomatoes (could use tomato sauce too)
1/3 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 T Worcestershire sauce
2 cloves minced garlic (1 tsp powdered garlic would be fine)
Optional: Something spicy - dash of smoked chipolte, shot of hot sauce, or chili powder
salt and pepper
1/2 cup water

Cook on low for the day - I left for 8 hours. Take the pork out of the slow cooker and let sit while you make your sauce:

Drain the fat off the liquid and then simmer for 10 - 15 minutes until reduced (if you're in a pinch just skim the fat off the liquid and add enough to the shredded to moisten the pork along with a shot of bottled barbecue sauce).

While your sauce reduces shred your pork with two forks.Put your shredded pork and sauce back into your pot or serving bowl (I put mine into the slow cooker on low while I did last minute diaper changing dinner pep.

Pile meat on buns - watch in amazement as your children, even the girl-who-protests-dinner-Every.Single.Night., happily devours.

Hunting and Gatherering

As a food blogger, I keep one finger pressed to the pulse. What's new, what's in, what's hot, what's not? These are absorbing questions.

For example, coloured pants -- in.


Such observations require careful attention, not to mention foresight. You will note as you observe the Reems Eats blog that Haley and I are attune to these nuances. We maintain a cutting edge profile. For example, we considered embedding video, only to realize that was on the cusp of old, so we didn't. We thought about Twitter but then realized the conceptualization of Twitter was really a lot hipper than Twitter itself in its digital form, so we left it at that. Online is still in, so we've stayed onboard. We also figured we'd keep the blog format for now but we have noticed that older, back-to-the-orgin type trends are making a comeback, such as canning or growing potatoes or using a typewrite; so heck we might just jump that trend and swap the blog for a log and do the whole thing in calligraphy. We're not sure. We're just going to see where the whole thing goes.

In the meantime, another notable flashback trend is that of the hunter gatherer. Once a figure relegated to the Socials Studies textbook, the hunter gatherer has re-emerged as a present-day lifestyle option. Consider the word, 'forage.' It appears on menus: “wild foraged mushrooms.” Or is referred to as a past time, “foraging.”


But the hunter was never one to be outdone by the gatherer. Note who's name comes first (gather always follows hunter). Hunter has also returned to a place of prominence. Think bow and arrows. Think Hunger Games. Or tall green boots sold with accessorized socks. Friends tell me they'd like to hunt—fell a deer or two and stock their freezers. These are urban people, shades away from hipster. Maybe the hipsters aren't too far off. They're already in camo—dark muted tones. They blend into buildings or slouch against the rain-gray West-Coast sky. They tread with the practiced obscurity of the hunter.

Even he-who-shall-not-be-named-on-the-blog (my hubbie) is doing it. Bow, check. Arrows, check. Deer, check. He's kicking off slippers, dashing out the door, sprinting across the property in hot pursuit. Fear not, his arrows are capped.

In fact, I'm considering joining him and he's encouraging this line of thinking. He said I'd be useful in flushing out the prey. I imagine I could go springer spaniel style and dash into the under brush, yapping at deer hooves to angle the herd into the clearing. It's likely a good workout. If you've followed Reems Eats for any length of time, you've concluded that I'm always up for a good workout. Anyways, I think hunting could be a perfect opportunity. Although trapping—also a form of hunting—appears less cardiovascular. Perhaps if the trapline stretched over a number of miles I might receive something of a physical benefit. But perhaps I'll leave that for people in the Ozarks or those with snow and dogsleds. I read a pretty excellent Janet Oke novel in which the main character runs the trapline. She also always wears a braid in her hair. This is before she meets HIM and lets that braid loose and gives up the trapeline for more womanly pursuits. If you've read this novel and can recall the title, feel free to comment as I'd love to get my hands on it again.

On a what's-hot-what's-not note, Haley tells me that braids are in. She says a good place to stay abreast of hairstyles is Pintrest.

In the meantime, I've been gathering. To be honest, I prefer the status of the hunter position, as well as the thrill of the chase and the triumph of the kill but more and more in life I have come to realize that we don't choose our callings as much as we are chosen by them. It has fallen to me to gather. I gather for a few reasons. One is that once I've arrived home, I don't like to leave. This often puts me in the unfortunate position of having to scrape a meal from what's left in the fridge and the pantry. Also, I've recently learned I'm an under-buyer (read the Happiness Project to find out where you lie in the under-buyer over-buyer spectrum). As an under-buyer, I refuse to stock up. I refuse to buy all the essentials. I make do. I scrape, I salvage, I improvise. Which is exactly what I was preparing to do the other day when my eyes chanced across Julia Child's quiche formula in Food and Wine (thanks again, Haley, for the birthday subscription). Julia's great for supplying the bones of a recipe. She instructs you as to the technique and the essentials and allows you to fill in the gaps. I followed Julia to a bacon quiche. You might choose squash. Or better yet, bacon squash. Whatever. See what's in the fridge. Or if you have a herb pot, poke in there.

This quiche is part of the weeknight dinner series. Haley and I are sharing stuff we make in the week that's easy and tasty and fun. The quiche is easy if you keep pie dough in the freezer. You can make your own pastry or buy it from the grocery store. Either will be delicious. I always forget how good quiche is and whenever I've made it I think I should do it more often. It also makes for excellent lunch leftovers.

Julia's Quiche

Adapted from the March Edition of Food and Wine

For the pastry:
Roll out a 1 layer pie dough. Once you've settled it into a pie pan, cover it with a piece of buttered foil or a piece of parchment paper. Fill the pie with dried beans. Yes, beans. You're not going to eat them; they are simply to weigh down the pastry and make sure it doesn't puff up with baking. Bake at 450 for ten minutes. Remove the foil and the weights and bake for another 7 to 8 minutes until it is very lightly browned.

For the custard:
Crack 3 large eggs into a large glass measuring cup. Add enough milk to reach the 1 and ½ cup mark. Add some salt and pepper and whisk.

Place half a cup cheese and your filling (in my case two strips fried and then chopped bacon. Chard is also nice or squash. Whatever you chose be sure to cook it first) in the bottom of the cooked pie pastry. Pour the custard in. The custard should reach ¼ inch below the top of the pie shell. If it doesn't crack another egg into the measuring cup and add enough milk as to equal ½ a cup. Beat that together and add it to the quiche. Top with quiche with a little more cheese if you'd like (I don't usually but I'm trying to make your quiche extra good).

Bake the quiche at 375 for about 30 minutes or until set and browned.

Mac 'n' Cheese

I live with a little escape artist. He spends his mornings trying on shoes, no matter the size or the style (Sister's boots, Daddy's Size 13 loafers), he knows that footwear is needed to meet his objective: To get outside. He gazes longingly at the front door, and woe be the evil parent that needs to go to work without Asher. But it's February, and this Mommy isn't spending all day outs in the elemnts. Oh eventually- after the coffee's been drunk, the paper perused, a half hearted stab at the laundry mountain has been made, and after the little outdoorsman butters up Mommy with some snuggles- we get on our rain gear and go out to play. But no matter how much rain, or how many jaunts around our park, our usually placid Asher always protests the return indoors with angry rants - "Ball! Ball!" (Ours is a ball-strewn cauldesac, and Asher knows the location and coordinates of every stray tennis and nerf ball)

We're a family ready for spring. Summer quick meals are easy, chicken or salmon on the barbie, corn on the cob and a salad. Done. But February it is, and February demands comfort food. Soup and casseroles. Mashed potatoes and spaghetti.

The ultimate speedy comfort food is Mac 'n' Cheese. To be honest, it's not my first choice. I find the cheesey pasta on the bland side and I always itch to doctor it up with some smoked chipolte or maybe a head of roasted garlic. But my husband is a m and c purist, and mac 'n' cheese demands respect. And my children have been converted.The speed at which those bowls are thrust back at me for second helpings brings warmth to my heart.

And there is a silver lining, this is an easy prep meal. While you could just make the sauce and toss it with the noodles and still have a delicious final product, my mother-in-law Donna always bakes it in the oven with a good layer of shredded cheese. And since this is Mike's meal, I make it how his Mamma does.The end result is a delicious custardy interior with a crusty cheese topping. If you're a true Campbell (I'm not) you would eat this fried up for breakfast the next morning.

Mac 'n' Cheese

Ingredients
3 cups or so dried macaroni cooked el dente as per package directions.
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup flour
3 cups milk
3 1/2 cups cheese, divided (can use more or less cheese depending on taste).

Sauce (these directions sound more time and labor intensive than this actually is. This is a white sauce with cheese.):

Over medium heat melt 1/4 cup butter.

Whisk in 1/4 cup flour to make a roux. Stir for a few seconds until the roux starts turning brown.

Slowly add 3 cups milk. Keep stirring until mixture thickens. Don't leave that milk unattended, if you stop stirring for a second something will stick. That's your kid dunking things into the toilet? Has to wait. Your occasionaly angelic 3-year-old daughter is trying to pull her brother's hair out? Block that out. They'll thank you in half an hour (or just add it to the therapist rant in 30 years).

Add 1 1/2 cup shredded or cubed cheese . Keep stirring. Stir until cheese is melted and mixture thickens. Season with salt and pepper to taste. And maybe a dash of dijon if no one is looking.

Assemble
Mix the sauce with cooked noodles in a large casserole dish (I use a 9 by 13 pyrex).

Sprinkle 2 cups of shredded cheese over top. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or so.

Serve with a side of ketchup.

For Lovers Only (That Means You, Yes, You!)

1cup peanut butter

1 cup icing sugar

a titch vanilla

-- beat!

350 grams chocolate, melted

A little chocolate in a paper wrapper, a dollop of peanut butter icing, more chocolate.

Let it set.

Ta da!

Love.

See, it is easy.



Liberating Beef Tagine

Sometimes it pays to take a few liberties in life. On Sunday for instance, we are getting ready for church when Caleb hollers the frantic, 'We gotta go.' Neither of us, the hollerer or the hollered-at, exactly jump into action. Instead, we change hats (Caleb) purses (me) and shoes (me again) before wandering out to the car. On our property you really can wander out to the car. It lives under a tent down the driveway, to the right and across the grassy bit, which is neither a lawn nor a field but something in between.

By now Caleb has settled on a light brown fedora. He's also wearing his car coat, which is incredibly thick, built for a real Canadian winter, actually. Of course our experience of winter is second cousin twice removed to a real Canadian winter. But the car coat is important, nonetheless, because we drive a gold 76 Beetle and its drafty.

I've settled on boots, which also proves a good choice as the lawn/field is mucky. Anyhow, for two people with fifteen minutes to ten, church's projected start time, we are certainly taking some liberties with time.

Caleb points out a tall tree filled with birds and we watch and I think about how birds can fly and have no projected start times, and all those cliches about freedom. We stand there for a good five minutes, which is a long time for two people who now have ten minutes until church's projected start time. Caleb admitted later that he was just waiting to see how long I'd stand there. Five minutes, as it turns out, I'd take about a five minute liberty. And when we finally makje it to church, it turns out about half the congregates isn't too worried about time either and we start at quarter past ten as per usual.

Time doesn't mind the taking of a few liberties. Really, whoever wants to be the first one to arrive at the coffee shop? Especially at the coffee shop! You can't very well just order a coffee while you wait. Unless of course, you're amicable to ordering a second round once your date arrives. But lattes are running pretty steep these days and with the extra caffine jolt I might start racing sprints up and down the barista bar.

I found myself exactly in this situation a few weeks ago. And what did I do? Wrapped my coat into a ball, nervous reflex, I suppose, and jammed myself beside the little station that holds coffee and cream. The shop was tiny and legitimate customers with coffee in their hands had to push past me to get at the sugar. I just stayed standing, coat balled, rigid as a board, sweating by now, waiting for my date and wishing I'd taken a few liberties with time. 

Liberties with time are one thing. Liberties with a woman are quite another. I bring it up because it begs to be. You can't say the words 'taking liberties' without some part of your brain whispering, 'with a woman.' It's a pretty basic fill-in-the blank. But I wouldn't know much about that, never having tried my luck.

I've taken a few liberties with a man, though. Like a bite of whatever he's eating. Usual it's peanut butter on toast. 'Bite?' I say and reach for it. This is a pretty huge liberty. Especially when you live with a peanut butter aficionado. But I've bitten brownies, burritos, sausage rolls and cinnamon buns, too. I've sipped beers, taken over whole ends of drinks, made him go back to the kitchen and fix a second because I've changed my mind. These were all pretty serious liberties to take.

But I don't regret any of them. I've come to believe, actually, that men like you to take a few liberties. A quick squeeze, a little grab, is never wholly unwanted, even if it does leave them feeling a little exposed.

On a cooking note, if you've been following the blog you'll note that there's been quite a buzz around slow cookers or crock pots as they were once called before a massive rebranding. Well I found my crock tucked in a  thriftstore with a six dollar tag and I thought I might as well give it a whirl.

I've taken a recipe that I LOVE for lamb tagine and taken a few liberties. For one, I switched to beef because I had it, it tastes good, and its cheaper. I've moved the whole thing to the slow cooker and, massive liberty three, I chose not to brown the meat or the onions or anything beforehand. Instead, I just put it all in the slow cooker and turned the dial to low. I reasoned that the Irish, for the most part, don't brown their stew meat, just pop it in, add some veg and liquid and get simmering. I figured that if I'm simmering this beef with nice veggies and spices for nine hours, it's going to have plenty of flavour.

Guess what? I wasn't disappointed.

Beef Tagine with a few Liberties Taken or Added, Depending on How You Look at It

2 small onions chopped
2 garlic cloves minced
1 tsp cinnamon
2 tsps cumin
1/2 tsp ginger
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1 tsp tumeric
1 large carrot
1 large parsnip
2 large potatoes
1 pound beef
1/2 cup chopped apricots

Put all these ingredients in your slow cooker and mix them around with a big spoon or your hands.

In a small bowl combine:
1 14oz can chopped tomatoes
2 cups chicken broth
1/2 Tbsp honey

Then add this to the slow cooker as well.

Put your slow cooker on low for about 9 to 10 hours.

Ta Da! Dance, show off, what the heck, take a few more liberties while your at it. You're on a roll.

Doing the Buckwheat Two-Step

Some days, you come home and eat toast. You top that toast with an egg and you're having dinner. You add two piece of bacon hacked from the icy package in the freezer and whoever sits across the dinner table from you will be smiling.

Some days this is reality. I tell myself this is okay. YOU know it's okay but the uptight drama queen buried deep beneath my easy-going facade cries, How have we come to this?!? Dinner, toast? An egg? Stir frying some chard and garlic to tuck under the egg placates me.  A little.

Planning ahead helps.

Post-Christmas, Haley and I are attempting to avoid the pre-Christmas culinary blues which invaded both our kitchens somewhere between turkey number one (Thanksgiving) and turkey number two (Happy Holidays). Last week, Haley tipped me off to the wonders of cooking chicken in the slow cooker. I was excited. She was excited. She thought about wearing a costume. She now calls the small hot appliance Mr. Crockpot and has christened him her sous-chef. Anything that gets Haley giddy on a weeknight must be good. The only sad part to this story is that I don't own a slow cooker. I'd like one. Why not? Who doesn't dream of a sous chef?

My kitchen is cosy, as in tiny, and so I make my appliance purchases carefully. Last week, when Haley reached out to readers for some chicken/crock tips, the response was so helpful. Therefore, I'm putting it out to you readers, what am I looking for in a slow cooker? Do some brands out perform others? Is the whole thing worth it? Let me know!!!

In the meantime, I'd like to offer up a good weekday solution of my own. I'm finding the two step to be particularly helpful to the working woman's schedule. That is, take step one the first night and slide into step two on the second night. My favourite two step of late is a buckwheat crepe filled with spaghetti squash. Yup, it's as good as it sounds and perfectly easy when you follow the two step theory.

Here's something of a recipe.

Buckwheat Crepes filled with Spaghetti Squash

You will need
1 medium to large spaghetti squash
1 recipe buckwheat crepes (provided below)
1-2 cups grated cheese--any type you like!

Sunday night
Tuck a spaghetti squash in alongside whatever else you're cooking.  Do this by heating your oven to 350 before slicing the squash in two lengthwise and scooping out any goop. Place the two pieces of squash cut side down in a large glass baking dish (or whatever you want to use). Add some water.
Add just enough so that it climbs about an inch up the squash. Put the squash in the oven and roast it until it can be easily pierced with a fork. This usually takes 45 minutes to an hour. Now, you can eat some of the squash but be sure to save about 4 cups for your day-two crepes.


Monday night
Make the Crepes:
(Adapted from the French Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrman Loomis)
1 cup buckwheat flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour (Loomis uses all buckwheat flour)
2 1/4 cups water
2 large eggs

Combine the flours in large bowl. Add the water. Mix. Add the eggs. Mix again.

Heat a 10 inch skillet and melt some butter on it. Add about 1/4 cup of batter to the pan and swirl it around to coat the whole surface. Add more batter if you need to. Fill in any holes with extra batter. Wait until little bubbles have formed before filliping the crepe.

Once you've cooked all your crepes (you should make about 15), fill each one with a scoop of spaghetti squash. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, and add a fist full of cheese. Place the rolled up crepes in greased baking pan and warm in a 350 oven for 20 minutes.

Alternately, you can reheat your spaghetti squash before rolling the crepes. That way you can skip placing the crepes in the oven and serve directly after filling and rolling the crepes. The hot squash should melt the cheese.

Crockpot Chicken

 

There's something wonderful about having a meal in a crock pot. Friday was a bit more sparkly knowing that I was super woman. That while I was busy conquering the world, my trusty sous chef, my dependable Mr. Crock was toiling away. And the smell when I walked in the door - nothing better than that aroma, Dinner-is-served. It's all I could do from announcing that I was upping dinnertime to 4:00.

If you want to create your own Superhero alter ego, I present: Crockpot Chicken. This is going into my regular meal rotation. I'm thinking of getting a costume made. With 10 minutes of prep - I peeled a few potatoes and rough chopped a few carrots and an onion, a sprinkle of seasoning and that was it, Mr. Crock took it from there.

I had some great tips, Erin directed me to Allrecipes,  but advised me to crisscross carrots underneath. Betty told me to add an onion. And then came my cousin Sonja's brilliance, I am posting it below in full in case you missed her comment.

I took everyone's advice. My crockpot was crammed full with that bird perched on a bed on veggies, but the lid closed and I was in business. Sonja had great advice on sticking to root vegetables, and keeping them big and chunky. I love mushy veg, but not everyone does, including my children. They turned up their noses at mushy potatoes, onions, and brussel sprouts. But they gobbled down their chicken, the carrots, and leftover rice.

Sonja's Crockpot Chicken
(Haley note: Mine was on low from 7:30 am until 5pm)

We do a whole chicken in the crock pot ALL the time....my kids love whole chicken and so I have developed a variety of methods. For crock potting...

A roasting chicken works better.

Cook the chicken on low, skin on. I like a spice rub of paprika, salt, pepper, cayenne, sometimes lemon juice....I think I followed a recipe once on All Recipes that was good but since I just make it up! Rub the spice on the inside and outside of the bird.

I sometimes put the bird on tinfoil balls if I want stuff to stay out of the fat, but it depends how full I am cramming the crockpot. It does help the veggies be less mushy. I ALWAYS put in potatoes and root veggies because I NEVER want to cook when I come home and the crock pot is on...but they get mushy, so make the pieces biggish and stick with root veggies. I find parsnip adds a lot of flavour, so I'd be tempted to try that.

Cook the chicken BREAST SIDE DOWN. This is from Deb on Smitten Kitchen. It means the juices flow through the bird into the dry breast meat. it makes a GIAGANTIC difference, creating a continually moist, succulent meat.

Finally, have all the stuff for chicken stock done when you're prepping the crock pot. Then you add the bones and make chicken noodle soup (again a la Deb in Smitten Kitchen for best results) and VOILA, another meal accomplished.

Enjoy!! If you like doing whole chicken, in the summer, you MUST try the Beer Ass Chicken. Amazing!

Working Women

There have been brief periods in my life where I've felt on top of things - nowadays my feelings of competency are directly correlated with the size of my laundry pile. When I put work into the mix, cooking, usually my procrastination method against housework, starts to feel like a chore. Rachel kick-started our new series last week. For the next month or two stay tuned to Reems Eats, we are hoping to get inspired again over weeknight cooking. We're in a rut, and want this to be an interactive series to help get us out. So, all you busy parents or career folk - we need tips and ideas to get us out of that 5 pm panic.

Along with my tenth wedding anniversary this summer, this fall marks my tenth year as an occupational therapist. A decade of pausing at some point during the day - sometimes at my desk, admittedly occasionally during rounds, and frequently while standing in front of my open fridge at 5 pm and asking myself: "What's for dinner?" I've picked up some tricks and tips along the way and in the next few months am going to be sharing some things that work for me, along with the things that don't (monthly meal planning!).

So today I'm not posting a recipe but am looking for some advice, I'm thinking a few days ahead - to Friday, I'm going to be working and am wanting to cook a chicken in a crock pot. A whole chicken. I hear this can be done but need some advice: Do you leave the skin on? Low or high? Do I need to add liquid. Should I put it in veggies? Thanks - and stay tuned for the results.

Getting Over Christmas

Technically, I don't go in big for Christmas presents. Example: staff Christmas party early December, at the optional (I thought mandatory) gift exchange, mine was the rumpled ten-times-used paper bag with a yellow star crayoned to its front. My bag threatened to disappear beneath the red bows and season-appropriate wrapping papers. No one was choosing my bag. It blended right into the beige carpet. I worried the others might mistake it for an old piece of tissue paper or an abused shopping bag or a child's crayon-drawing of a yellow star now discarded and forgotten. Not to worry. I pointed it out. I hollered, 'The white bag is a gift,' whenever a name was drawn from the Santa hat and the receiver crept toward the pile of presents in stockinged feet. It was almost as if they hoped I wouldn't notice their approach. No such luck. I'm on to stuff like that.

Turns out I must have missed the memo. The one instructing us to bring nice, thoughtful gifts priced at about fifteen dollars, which most of my generous coworkers translated into twenty or twenty-five. When I hear 'Gift Exchange' I get tunnel vision. Really, I'll forget about the whole deal until the day before, or in this case the day of, but when it's go time, my tunnel leads me right to the thrift store where you will find me elbow deep in just about everything, rooting for the perfect gift. And I feel I should mention, I passed on some good stuff this year, like a ceramic duck (slight discoloration), a tight-fitting army hat (duck tape inside), or the nearly-antique batman doll (fifteen bucks! rip off). Anyways, it wasn't until the final hour, at the final shop, in the most unlikely place, that I found my philosophers stone (so to speak). In the creepy-little Christmas room in the second-hand furniture store, tucked in amongst rubble, I found my gemstone: a two-hour video of the burning log! You know, the fake fireplace featured on Shaw cable year after year, where the only action occurs every half hour or so when a hand reaches in with a poker to adjust the logs.

If you are anything like me, you're rubbing your hands together with glee as you read this. You might even be cackling. You're certainly thinking,'This is it! Pure hilarity!' But then you've forgotten the memo and the fifteen dollar suggestion and the unspoken assumption that everybody would get everybody else something nice.

Anyhow, I bullied some poor sap of a co-worker into choosing the yule log at the exchange, lived down the shame, and took home a perfectly lovely, hand-pained glass Christmas ornament.

Next year I might just keep the yule log.

At my third gift exchange (number two, which I've left out, went well, incidentally) it became clearly that while technically I don't go in big for Christmas presents, I was going all in for a certain item under that tree. Well, it wasn't under the tree anymore, I had unwrapped it before Haley stole it from me. We were in the throws of one of those unwrap and steal gift-giving phenomena. The item that had both Haley and I more than slightly salivating as we went head to head was the Smitten Kitchen Cookbook. Naturally, I won.

If you didn't get the gift you wanted this year -- wait, that sounds awful. What I'm trying to say is that I recommend the book. It's full of fun little quips and stories from Deb Perelman, author of the Smitten Kitchen blog, and includes a nice selection of her recipes.

She's really a great cook, Deb Perelman

She really has a great blog, that Deb Perelman.

I'd say I'm jealous, but that also sounds awful. I'd say I'm jealous of how she hangs out at her apartment all day testing recipes with her incredibly cute toddler and then gets to write cute anecdotes about the recipes and the toddler that are widely read before collected into a book and published. I'd say that but it wouldn't be totally true because I actually love my job and I'm not all that eager to write out perfectly tested recipes for  you all -- the truth, you heard it here first. But I do like to ramble. And I like to cook. Although, I don't always like to work, as in at my job, and then cook. Sometimes working and cooking is just about the wost combination in my life. Which is why Haley and I are trying to brainstorm some strategies to make the whole thing -- working and cooking -- a little easier and a lot more fun.

Now I should probably be starting with a practical post about casseroles and freezing and how-to, but instead, I'm skipping right to the good stuff. In case you missed the picture at the top of the post, here's a closer view.

 Yup, you got it, steak!

Steak is my favourite fast food and I'd say, reigns supreme in the working woman's freezer. There are those who tut tut the frozen steak and worry that quality is compromised in the freezing/thawing process. But if you buy quality meat, and I would encourage you to choose free-range and locally sourced, you really won't notice a difference.

The perfectly nice thing about stocking some steak in your freezer is you're all set for Friday night when you want to have a scrumptious dinner but don't want to pay the exhibitionist price of eating out, or you're like me and once you've arrived home from work at the end of your week all you want is a pair of comfy pants, a glass of something-or-other and your feet up. There's no tipping you off the couch into heels and a sweater and a car to town. Forgetaboutit.

If you've taken your steak out to thaw in the morning or the night before, all it needs is a flash in the pan and you've got an amazing dinner on your plate. You can pair it with some roasted potatoes and other veggies if you've got it in you. Or set it beside a quick salad.

Now, for the 'recipe.'

Easy Grilled Steak

First you need to get the steak. I suggest you choose one of the following cuts of meat for flavour and tenderness, T-bone, sirloin, rib-eye or porter house. If you'd like to know more about different cuts of beef, this is a good site http://www.beefinfo.org/. Now I should also mention that I use free-range beef that is raised locally. Last spring, we purchased a large portion of beef for a set rate from a local farm. If you have farms offering that service in your area check it out because you get great value and excellent product. Having passed a number of feed-lots in California while barrelling down super-highways I defiantly stay away from high-production beef...

Secondly, you need your equipment. Many people like to do steak on the BBQ or under the broiler in the oven. I've found that both these options don't give the level of control that I am looking for when I do a steak. I want fast, hot, steady heat. I find I get the best delivery of these three qualities from a cast iron pan. You might have a comparable frying pan that gives good heat and doesn't have an easily damaged finish.

Now, the work (just a little). Be sure to fully defrost the meat or it will not cook evenly. Salt and pepper your steaks on both sides.

Meanwhile, heat your pan on high with a little olive oil or butter. Wait until the pan is hot and smoking before you add the steaks. If you like your steaks medium rare, cook for 4 to 5 minutes per side. If you like your steak rare, cook for 3 to 4 minutes per side. I can't advise you as to well done because I don't do it. These times are based on 1 inch thick steaks.

Pop that bad boy on your plate beside you salad/potatoes/carrots/or what-have-you, light the candles and enjoy your Friday night.

Christmas Salad

It's almost Christmas, which maybe gives me some grace on my blogging absence - not blogging is much like not going to the gym: first you miss a day, then a week.. then you have a baby and suddenly it's been almost 6 years. Humour me and let me think that you've all been pining next to your computers; I don't know if it's a Reems trait, or an oldest child trait, but I do my best work under a cloak of guilt and expectations.

Now, for my return I needed to pull out all the stops, and I guarantee that this is 100% Haley Inspired Brilliance. Sheer gastronomic and seasonal genius combined, I am totally wasted changing diapers.The kids and I were sharing their first pomegranate experience this afternoon; while we were delving into the fun and messiness that is eating a pomegranate, the lightning bolt struck - CHRISTMAS SALAD. Red, White, Green. Even Finn, who normally shies away from salads loved it.I encourage you to make this for Christmas dinner.

Christmas Salad (Pomegranate Hazelnut Spinach Salad)

Adjust amounts to your groups, this will serve 4

Green:
Baby Spinach - 4 cups
1/2 sliced avocado
White:
1/3 cup roughly chopped toasted hazelnuts (bragging time, the ones in this salad came from the trees in the park behind our house)
1/4 cup crumbled feta (or chevre)
Red:
 pomegranate - 1/3 or so of the seeds
1/4 cup thinly sliced red onions (or sub chopped green onions)
1/4 cup julienned red pepper

Dressing: 3 T balsamic vinegar, 3T olive oil, dash honey, tiny pinch sea salt
(You could substitute a bottled vinaigrette)

Toss with dressing. Serve. Raise a glass to me. Merry Christmas!

Roast Chicken for les Paresseaux

Usually, I don't pick the easy route. Like, why drive when you can bike through the dark, wet morning? Or buy sliced and bagged bakery bread if you can spend your Saturday kneading, punching down, and waiting by the oven? Or walk the beach if you can be in the water, eating bottom beneath a giant wave?

The above list sounds cute, happy-go-lucky, even. Well step back because there lurks a dark underbelly. (Can a dark underbelly lurk? Probably.) The dark underbelly's a tense one, a tich manic, a lot uptight, basically an undiagnosed anxiety-plagued soul. If you're after a five am wake up call, don't pick the easy road because you'd rather be wide-eyed in the dark running through your day, mentally confirming the purple-pants selection, sticky-noting your brain with don't-forget-to's, while worrying that you're up to early and so must inevitably crash sometime this afternoon and in that case how will you get it all done?

It's rough.

But don't worry, I'm chilling out, drinking more tea, pausing to enjoy the moment -- like the feel of hot water in a sink of dishes, or the darkness of an early morning ride, or the scent of Borax as I scrub out the tub. Nope, not an easy task, living in the moment, but I'm on it. Oh wait, I'm trying to be a little less on it.

Which brings me to dinner and how I took a chicken out of the freezer on Sunday, and so it was all thawed out today and ready for the oven. I had Dorrie Greenspan's lovely French cookbook in front of me. I wanted to follow the recipe that instructed a ring of dough be placed around the edge of the pot. The dough is meant to seal up the pot so everything inside becomes incredibly delicious. Dorrie advises the reader to make a big splash with her guests by breaking the dough seal at the table and allowing the mouthwatering aromas to waft forward. Well, I didn't have any guests, just potatoes and two carrots.

A second recipe caught my eye: Roast Chicken for les Paresseux, which translates to: Roast Chicken for Lazy People. Exactly, I thought, exactly what I need.

So I stuffed everything in the pot and popped it in a 450 degree, oven looked at the clock and realized I had just enough time. I whipped into a pair of shorts and pulled my runners from beneath the heater. Thanks to Dorrie, I managed to get a ten km run in and cook dinner.

I love this new life outlook.

Really, Dorrie's recipe led me to do basically what I always do when roasting a chicken, but I did add the veg to the pot. Thanks for that, Dorrie.

Roasted Chicken with Two Veggies

1 chicken
salt and pepper
rosemary if you have it
half a lemon in two piece
4-8 cloves of peeled garlic, half whole, half diced
6 small potatoes (obviously you can choose how many potatoes you want; just don't overload the pot)

2 carrots
1 onion, quartered (or leave it out if you're not partial)

Preheat the oven to 450.

Rub the chicken all over with salt and pepper. This includes pushing your fingers under the skin over the breast and rubbing the skin of the breast. If your fingers are long, lean, and nibble like mine, also try to reach and rub under the skin over the legs. Put the whole garlic and the lemon inside the chicken.

Rub a dutch oven or pot of your choice with olive oil and put the chicken and the rosemary inside.

Toss the veggies with a little olive oil and plenty of salt and pepper and tuck them in the pot with the chicken.

Roast for 30-90 minutes depending on the size of your chick.

The Blanket Fog Affect

(Hungry mouths beat the camera to this loaf)

When you ignore your blog for three months a lot can happen. For instance, you can turn up in Vancouver on UBC campus, suddenly a student again and loving it -- not to mention the sushi and all that caffeine charging you from the cafes stamped on every corner. Then suddenly you best pal has a baby and you're creeping on thirty and feeling sentimental before you stash a bunch of junk in your van and drive to California to bob in the waves and watch sunsets and forget you're almost thirty because everyone you meet is offering you money, dinner, advice, and a bag of Jelly Bellies. When you're finally back sleeping in your own king-sized bed it's almost a let down because September keeps winking at you and there's a new job, which sucks you like a whirlpool the minute you step in through the school doors because the whole staff already knows your name and the students actually come to the library to read and when you suggest titles, they're actually interested and actually take the books out and actually read them.

Whew.

And that's what it's been like.

Which is probably why I took a nap yesterday afternoon. I never nap. But it felt good. Even waking in a puddle of drool before dragging, no ripping, my lazy carcass from the king felt good. I think I'm ready to slow the pace and feel a little less frenzied and a little more regular. After all, it finally rained. An entire September without rain and constant sunshine is enough to throw anyone into a bit of a whirlwind.

So I made White Fog Bread, which involves quinoa and apparently hearkens from Eastern Canada, an entirely foggy place. Each loaf is divided into three pieces so you can tear off a hunk (if you're an east-coast working man), put it in a lunch pail, and head out for the day.

White Fog Bread
 From Beth Hensperger's Bread for All Seasons

1 cup water
1 Tbsp yeast
pinch sugar
1 cup warm buttermilk
1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup honey
3 tsp salt
1 3/4 cup cooked quinoa
2 cups whole wheat flour
3 cups white flour

Combine the yeast and water in a small bowl.

In a large bowl, stir together the buttermilk, oil, honey, salt and quinoa. Mix in the yeast mixture and the whole wheat flour. Add the remaining flour half a cup at a time.

Knead for 3-5 minutes.

Let the dough rise until doubled (1.5 to 2 hours).

Shape the dough by dividing it into three parts. Divide each of those three part into another three pieces. Shape each piece into a long rectangle then roll it up to form a fat square. Fit three squares into one greased bread pan. Repeat with the remaining pieces.

Let the loaves rise until doubled -- another hour. Then bake at 350 for 45 minutes.

Let the bread mostly cool before slicing it, if at all possible.

Mermaid Cake

Mermaid Cake

The promised mermaid cake. Turns out regular blogging was a lofty promise. Of course I hadn't factored on a subtropical October. Lounging on the deck; throwing rocks at the river.. and making mermaid cakes. It's a tough life. 

Meet Mermaid,  kind of an Ariel-meets-Raggedy Ann.

I have to confess, making this cake took precedent over all other 3-year-old party plans. This is including the ridiculous amount of time I spent wandering the bulk candy aisle at Superstore. And of course, I had to make two giant sheet cakes in order to produce enough cake to make two layers, because I love a cake with a filling. This mermaid wasn't just a pretty face, no she was delish: Vanilla cake; Buttercream frosting; and Joan's filling.

Joan's Pudding Filling 
 (If you mention this filling to Joan she'll look at you blankly, feigning ignorance due to high sugar content)

1 package instant vanilla pudding
1 cup milk
1 cup sour cream, low fat or regular

Prepare pudding but instead of 2 cups milk use 1 cup milk and 1 cup sour cream.
So good I could eat this straight from the bowl. Actually, I did.

On a related but somewhat awkward note: Mermaid boobs. I went with a discreet smarty bikini-style top with licorice straps. I think it worked.

Thanks for waiting..

If you're still following us, thanks. We've had a long hiatus. Too long, but we're almost back, almost.. And we promise to return with great goals of regular posting, updates, exciting glimpses into our lives and kitchens. The drama! The excitement!

I'm going to give you a teaser. This is the spider cake creation from Finn's birthday bash last June. Because every post needs to have a picture. And the Spider Cake deserved a post. It was awesome. And this weekend I will be attempting (cue suspenseful music): The mermaid cake Stay tuned.

Spider Cake

Crabby

Last week I had two amazing seafood feasts. I'm trying to decide which was better. The first was a solo meal -yup, just me, and a crab (no, not Mike), and a deck overlooking the sea. Three days later I was sitting on a patio with my sister, dishing in Kitsilano at Chewies over crabcakes and a plate of raw Fanny Bay oysters. Yup, raw oysters. I was a raw oyster virgin, and Rach, experienced in the area of oyster slurping, held my hand through it all. The first was a bit rough, but the third... The third oyster slid down quite nicely.

How to Cook and Eat Crab

1) Take crab - the fresher the better. Plucked from its happy home moments before your plate? Perfect.
2) Boil water with a pinch of sea salt
3) Pop crab in for 10 minutes
4) Crack those legs, suck those juices. Savour - and push aside the herbed butter. A crab this fresh doesn't need anything except your adoration.

1 Ingredient Ice Cream

Today we finally had summer. Finn looked at me, slightly cross-eyed with exhaustion, but happy "Mommy, today was awesome. I had THREE water fights." Watching Finn, the newly minted 5-year-old "water fight" is entertaining. Two thirds of the time he is stoic, he is dodging, he is spraying - but the other third of the time is spent alternating between high pitched shrieking and the occasional wail. Water fighting against your 8-year-old  and 10-year-old buddies, while mostly awesome, has a few drawbacks. You're a little slower on the super soaker re-fill, and a little behind in the dodging. You occasionally find yourself in a chilly deluge. And of course your mean mommy makes you use hose water, not the requested warm tap water. She was brought up on water fights; being sprayed down by her siblings, and of course the biggest bully- Dad, who was always good for a bucket full of cold water on the head. Water fights are good for you - character building really.

Here's a different kind of summer awesome - 1 ingredient Ice Cream. Yes, you're clever, you've already got that ingredient figured out. Bananas. The ingredient always at the top of my grocery list, right after milk.

I saw the recipe for 1-Ingredient Ice cream on Apartment Therapy and made a mental note to try it. It combines my love of ice cream with my love of bananas. A no-brainer, really. Since then I've seen a few clever additions - a scoop of peanut butter or nutella, a dash of cocoa. But of course that would make it 2-ingredient, or even 3-ingredient ice cream.

So for the coolness of this post I've stuck to 1-Ingredient. Bananas. Yup, that's it, and it tastes great, creamy and delicious with kind of a gelato texture. And the kids don't know it's good for them . Perfect. Of course, since it was so healthy I figured a handful of chocolate chips was a requirement.

Recipe? Take some bananas. Slice them. Freeze them - about 2 hours is perfect, if longer like I do because I forget they'll just take a bit more time in your food processor or blender. Blend (processor or blender with a bit of side scraping). Eat. Log onto your computer. Go to this post and tell me how much you love me in the comments section.

Chipotle Caesar

We're still learning about deer, it seems. Upon moving to the cabin (yes, in the woods) last July, one primary impression of deer formed in the minds of my dearest husband and I. Deer are cute. Trite, but fundamentally true. Deer wandered through our property in a small herd, two big (parents) and three little (offspring). As we began our new life in the country it seemed fitting that we should spy in on the goings-ons of this deer family. The image was so simple, beautiful, and natural -- all characteristics we'd anticipated of our new home. When Caleb or I, or I or Caleb, would spot a hooved and antlered soul wandering out from the woods, the alarm: "Deer!" would be sounded and we'd rush out to the deck for a closer glimpse.

While our working definition of deer was taking shape, another classification was hinted at; warnings were given. My Aunt was the first. "They're dangerous," she told us. We laughed.

"It's true," my brother echoed, later. He cited a story of a man attacked by a rampaging buck.

Weeks went by before Caleb was confronted by the stag (okay, some sort of male deer). It hobbled out from the bush, weaving like a drunk-test failure. One antler torn and bleeding, the buck stopped short to lock eyes with Caleb before it pawing the earth and beginning its charge. Fortunately, the railing of our deck provided protection and afforded Caleb enough time to duck in through the front door. Safely inside, he peered past the curtain to watch the buck stagger back into the bush.

The possibility of violence had reared it's deerish head. I remained unconvinced until one dark morning in November, from the seat of my bike I watched two bucks crash horns across Lochside Drive (picture that terrible scene in Bambi). A shadow was cast. Deer...who were they?

As the year wore on our misgivings faded with our remembrances of long summer days and minted mohitos. Deer joined the backdrop of our lives. They grazed through our field and out again. No longer exclaimed upon, and no longer watched for evidence of Hyde-like behaviour, the deer had simply been forgotten.

We turned our efforts to improving the house -- a new shower was installed -- and playing with the yard. With the master's path nearly completing it's route about the house, we turned our eyes to a garden. It took a number of days before an area was cleared and the grass broken to soil. We were nearly ready to begin. We had the seeds. I'd bought garden gloves. We'd enlisted help. It was time to fence.

Here is were I pause to reflect upon what we knew of deer: deceptively cute, potentially dangerous. Deception, potential: these words remain central to my now expanded understanding of deer. These are the traits we failed to account for when we cut the beams for our fence and dug them into the earth. While the beams was a good start (the logs were solid and well supported and stood about ten feet tall), we went wrong with the string. At the time, it seemed best to avoid buying costly fencing equipment such as chicken wire or bamboo or any type of filler, really. Instead, we elected to run crisscrossing lines of coloured thread between the posts. Our garden now looked like it belonged in a compounded from a dystopian society. Uncertain about the strength of the string, we added intersecting branches to the fence. The holes were small and impenetrable, we thought.

Happy with our work we planted and watered and waited. It wasn't long before the kale and lettuce pushed through the grown. The wheat (a madcap expriment) was doing particularly well. We waited and waited, but the greens didn't seem to be getting much bigger. Examining the soil in the kale box one afternoon, Caleb refelcted that it almost seemed as if something had gotten in for a nibble. A rabbit we thought, or a cat. Did cat's like kale?

Deceptively cute, potentialy dangerous.

Deep into a Sunday afternoon, lazy from a nap, Caleb steps out onto the deck. There is a moment of calm before he looks to the garden. In that glance he takes in the absurd lines of colour, the mangle of sticks, and a brown body curled in the lettuce box, finishing its own afternoon nap. With a leap Caleb is on the gravel, running, shouting, ready to strangle the deer with his bare hands. But he's no match. No match for the deception of stillness, in a flash the deer is moving, or the potential for maneuvers, the deep steps through a small space between one pink and one yellow string in a hoof beat. With the flag of his tail flying, the deer vanishes into the thickness of the forest.

Since, we've added a layer of chicken wire to our dystopian fence and when the deer come visiting, it isn't 'deer, comes see,' that we shout.

I bought the lettuce for this salad at Michell's farm.

Chipotle Caesar

Croutons:

Cut up some bread into pieces, toss it in a bowl with olive oil, salt, pepper, and chopped herbs. Spread it on a baking sheet and bake for about 15 minutes at 300, or until the bread is cruchy.

Dressing (Adapted from the Rebar Cookbook):

1 head of garlic roasted
1 tsp salt
2 tsp dijon
2 Tbsp pureed chipoltes
1/3 cup grated asiago cheese
1 cup olive oil

Put all the ingredients except the olive oil in a food processor and process unitl smooth. With the blender running, slowly add the olive oil. It should emulsify as you pour.

Choose your favorite lettuce, tare it into bite sized pieces, toss with dressing and garnish with croutons and more grated cheese. Yum.