December, holiday detox, etc.

Chocolate Puddle Cookies, 03/10, Tallahassee FL

We are mid-holiday and already I'm filled entirely to the brim with happiness and gratitude. 2010 may have appeared fairly bleak at the onset, but how those concerns were repressed once the months unfolded and I got into the swing of things.

Plum Cobbler with Assorted Fruit, 02/10, Tallahassee FL

It's been a whirlwind of a year. Last December, I saw the light shows in Lakeland, FL. while sipping on coffee and catching up on television shows. I beach combed at Passe-A-Grille Beach, slurped up a creamy tomato bisque with seafood and sherry, ate bites of broiled flounder and drank potent margaritas on the rocks.

St. George Island, 02/10, FL

I celebrated New Year's Eve in style by hitting up two of my favourite Toronto spots -- The Yellow Griffin Pub in Bloor West Village and Terroni on Adelaide East by St. Lawrence Market -- and attended a terrific house party and drank a lot of red wine (a very early indication that this blog would come to feature many such episodes of my drinking a lot of red wine and writing about it.) I spent January in Amherstburg and went back to Florida for a month, drinking sparkling wine with good friends and eating such delectables as homemade BBQ ribs with two different sauces, seared tuna on plaintains topped with an avocado salsa and blood orange drizzle, and amazing creole-style shrimp with a cheese-filled potato cake.

Kim's visit to Toronto, 06/2010

It was a year of Blueberry-Ginger Cheesecake, eaten under a big tree in the Florida sun, the crisp March air whipping at our skin, and, subsequently, a year of rice and beans done several different ways while I searched for a job in the midsts of a downtrodden economy. I made a permanent move to Toronto and set up shop. I started this blog. I spent a night on my uncle's boat, drinking crisp wine in the hot air, and a day, sipping at caramel apple martinis and eating a great dinner in honour of Canada Day. I tried and fell in love with Indian food for the first time. I worked the toughest job I've ever worked (in catering) and landed my first career job (in corporate marketing/advertising). I've read some wonderful books, and have had the pleasure of meeting so many lovely people. To finish off this year, this year of lessons learned and victories gained, I can't help but count my blessings: my family is happy and healthy; I can pay all my bills and still dream of owning a pretty duvet cover; friends that are the most wonderful people a girl could ask for; a fabulous apartment; and a great job. That, dear readers, really is everything.

Ottawa, 05/2010

There was also a whirlwind trip to Ottawa, complete with great conversation, wonderful food, and terrific tour of the city by one of my favourite people. And a minor car accident. Let's try to forget about that (though, as with many unfortunate things, it makes a good story in retrospect.)
 
I once said I wasn't much of a soup person, but this winter has made a liar out of me. After making Cuban black bean soup (twice -- both scandalously delicious), a forgettable throw-together-in-the-crock lentil soup, a red lentil soup with potatoes and cumin, Melissa Clark's Red Lentil Soup with Lemon (twice), potato-leek soup with rosemary and roasted garlic, Richard Olney's Garlic Soup, and sweet potato soup with maple syrup and chili flakes, and broccoli cheddar soup, I can no longer claim such a title. Now I dream of a chickpea soup with cumin, of a soup au pistou with a dollop of sundried tomato pesto, of more lentil soup. My devotion by this point is rather unquestionable, non?

Griffin at the cottage on Lake Buckhorn over Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, 2010

 When you are finished with holiday celebrating -- perhaps around January 2nd? -- and require a bit of a detox, I recommend making a big pot of Melissa Clark's Red Lentil Soup with Lemon.

It's a simple soup, each flavour distinguishable from the other. The tomato paste lends depth, the lemon adds brightness, and the lentils contribute plenty of heft and volume to this hearty, filling soup. It tastes as good as it smells, and freezes well.

"There is a town in north Ontario / With dream comfort memory to spare..."

I'm not the first to say this, but I have no idea where November went. Hello December -- I can hear you whispering among the willows.

The first snow came as I walked down a beautiful city street, fall leaves still attached to their branches. Ahh, Canada; it turns out I missed you something serious! I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I... might like this thing called winter.

Yeah, I still can't believe it. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm hardcore about summer. But winter inspires bundling under blankets and hot apple cider with a capful of Captain Morgan's spiced rum, sitting by a roaring fire and making mulled wine. It means evenings spent reading and listening to K. D. Lang talk about being helpless, and sitting back on your sofa, reflecting, feeling fortunate about the way the months have unfolded. Who knows how many wrong turns we narrowly avoided.

But still, no blood oranges. They are December babies, after all. So I wait. I wait for blood oranges, and blood orange and jalapeno margaritas, and blood orange juice, extremely orange and tart.

Farmer's markets packed with kale, with spinach, with celery root, with candy beets that really know how to help a salad take centre stage. Clementines that taste so sweet, juice dribbling down your chin as you tuck into another section. Pears the shade of green the grass takes when you first see it in the springtime, signalling, however subtle, a new season, and leeks as big as a child's arm. We are fat and happy around here as we decorate the office tree, exchanging inappropriate stories while we let the tea steep. If you're going to take a break between frantic e-mails and drawn out phone conversations, you better make it a good time.

Yes, winter, maybe I've come around to you. Strolling through Toronto streets in my boots, jeans tucked in. Waking up to a giant mug of coffee the size of my head -- a really fantastic cup, I should say -- and buckwheat crepes filled lightly with cheese and topped with sunny side up eggs, sprinkled with paprika, and chicken bacon. The crepes are so good and buttery tasting that my tastebuds can't help but sit up and dance. The flavour isn't nutty, but soft and flavourful. I need that recipe and someday someone's going to surrender it to me. But in the meantime I'll dream about that crepe and about the Christmas holidays, and wait for blood oranges.

What are you waiting for, dear readers? Or maybe you're just enjoying things as they are, which is perfectly acceptable, too. Let me tell you: I've got my eyes on those pears.

Do yourself a favour and dance while you cook. Tonight there is a batch of soup simmering on the stove, and "2 Scoops" by Michelle Harding coming from my television, and hey! another Monday under our belts. We're a day closer to blood oranges, to a new year, to a good night's sleep. Winter -- I've got you figured out.


*Entry title courtesy of Neil Young, "Helpless"