How far you can see

The morning is crisp and clear, signs of the kind of autumn day I longed for back in October, the one I felt I was denied. The kind that conjures visions of walks in High Park, in midtown maybe, sipping on a cappuccino or a mug of peppermint tea, observing the leaves slip into brighter clothes, window shopping, whatever it is Torontonians do on Sundays. I’ve my apron on as early as 7:30am, moka pot heating on the stove, slicing a Spanish onion with a nearly dull knife.

I’ve been reading Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon and Love and Other Impossible Pursuits by Ayelet Waldman for a while, flipping back and forth. Both are great reads for different reasons. I love Chabon's failed heroes. And I love the manner with which Waldman treats the human condition. She writes the main character, a young woman who has recently lost her infant daughter, with great sensitivity; yet Emilia Greenleaf is deeply, beautifully flawed. There's no pretension here. I adore how the reader is absolutely compelled to sympathize with a character who isn't necessarily an easy person to care for, but who is intensely layered and interesting and really, by striking out against those closest to her, is simply asking to be loved. I was on the subway last night when I glancedat the author's biography on the back -- “[Ayelet Waldman] and her husband, the novelist Michael Chabon, live in Berkeley, California, with their four children.” I had no idea they even knew each other, but I've been falling asleep with both of them on my bedside table all along.

“It’s a really big city, William. It’s a huge city, and Collegiate is one tiny, little dot. It’s a tiny, little, meaningless dot. It’s a huge city, and you’re going to have a huge life, and I promise you, I promise you, Collegiate means nothing. No matter what happens, no matter how mad and sad anybody gets, you’ve just got to remember how big everything is, and how far you can see.” (Waldman, pg. 180.)

Caramelized Onion and Mushroom Frittata with Fontina
Serves 4-8

2 tbsp unsalted butter
½ large Spanish onion, sliced
250g cremini mushrooms, sliced
8 large eggs
½ cup milk (I use 2%)
2oz grated fontina cheese
Salt and pepper, to taste

In a cast iron or ovenproof skillet, heat butter over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook slowly until nicely caramelized, about 45 minutes. Add the mushrooms and continue stirring until the mushrooms have browned slightly.

Heat oven to 350F.

Crack the eggs into a large bowl and whisk until well combined. Slowly add the milk. Season the egg mixture with salt and pepper, and pour into the skillet. Cook over the heat for about five minutes and then move the skillet into the hot oven.

Bake for about 25 minutes, until the eggs are mostly set. Remove from the oven. Sprinkle cheese over top and broil for an additional 5-10 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the top slightly browned. Serve immediately.

With time to breathe

The days around here are slowly winding down.


Gone are the whirlwind months of surprise visitors and grueling shifts, never-ending to-do lists and afternoons (and evenings. And the wee hours of the morning) spent canning. I’m reading (!) again, dear readers. I’m trying to finish up Michael Chabon’s Wonder Boys and I’m in the middle of the unexpectedly addictive Love and Other Impossible Pursuits by Ayelet Waldman. I'm trying to catch up on my blogs and finish a newspaper. I made a pot of simple broccoli soup tonight and finished my leftovers. The front door of my apartment is newly painted thanks to my super. My place is clean. I have a "new", waterproof winter coat. The dishes are done (!) with the exception of one soaking pot. The laundry is under manageable conditions.

It would seem I have my life in order! With time to breathe!

I'm working on a few recipes for you. I made pumpkin biscotti last night. It sort of bombed. I made beef short ribs and polenta with acorn squash the other night -- that was pretty delicious, but it needs another go. Tonight I picked up a few pounds of locally grown, LFP-certified beans (red kidney, white navy and black turtle) and some of the best peanut butter made with Ontario peanuts. We'll see where that leads.

The leaves are crunchy beneath my feet and I’m given to drinking several cups of tea during the day to combat the inevitable chill October’s presence always seems to bring in. One of my very favourite people is set to visit next week and spend a few days with me, which, to my mind, is an early holiday gift. We lived together all through graduate school, and for drama's sake I can't say life has been the same since. I’ve looked high and low – there is no one like her in the world, and I’m looking forward, more than anything, to sip on a good cup of coffee with her and discuss our lives with each other as though we’re still fawning over our theses or marking student papers. As much as I miss those days – and I do, terribly and achingly – I’m enjoying celebrating the present.

How are you faring this fall?

Of soup and comfort

There are no words.

Roasted garlic. Rosemary. Leeks. It's poetry, non? I should think so.



I told you I'm gradually becoming a cereal person -- more specifically, a granola kind of girl. Slowly, I'm also turning away from my flurry of salads and toward soups. Maybe it's the change in the weather. Maybe it's the vent that hangs from my ceiling, the consequence of trying to change my furnace filter single-handedly. A bowl of soup is equal to a bear hug, as far as liquid food goes, and glancing at that vent -- well, a hug doesn't hurt.



I finished Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant not too long ago, and fell in love. It's such a compelling anthology of short fiction, all about food (!) and people eating alone. I would say, broadly speaking, eating is considered a social sort of thing, so this notion of communing solo intrigues me. What about those who eat alone, out of either necessity or choice? It's an interesting proposition.

My first instinct at mealtime is to turn on the television, but then I go about eating mindlessly -- never satisfying. Instead, I like to listen to music and have my meals on my kitchen island, or plunk myself down on the floor and eat while reading. It doesn't mean I haven't eaten meals while watching Sarah Jessica Parker wax on about human shortcomings, but, you know, I do my best.

I've come upon the realizations that Jenni Ferrari-Adler seems to have when she first moved to the American Midwest, alone, for graduate school. "Everything, I realized, growing light-headed, anything was delicious. In the next weeks I continued on in phases, first everything raw, then everything baked. I prioritized condiments. What wasn't delicious with Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce?" (This is a good point, I might add.) No, it didn't take subsisting on cabbage for me to figure it out, but through many a meal of rice and beans it's come about anyway: eating alone is a bit of a luxury; eating alone means you can eat an entire fennel bulb for lunch and call it good; eating alone means you can eat the same thing for five days straight -- out of financial necessity, desire or sheer laziness; eating alone means there's no one to please but yourself, and she ain't picky.



Well, not too picky.

Anyway. I digress.

Despite living in a big city, I've craving the slow pace. I know, I know -- grass is greener and all of that. But by that, I don't mean I want to crawl back to the country. I mean I want to let go.

Never one to let life dictate my choices, I've spent the last several years playing Master Coordinator, whipping and cajoling life to meet my wants and requirements. Perhaps it's time to sit on this very stool and eat some metaphorical soup for a while. If you had a bowl of this in front of you, you too might want to stand still for a while.

There are many fantastic recipes for Potato-Leek Soup, but when I came across Molly Katzen's recipe for a potato soup incorporating roasted garlic and rosemary, it didn't take much convincing. Although this recipe calls for chicken stock, a good-quality vegetable stock may, of course, be substituted.

As with many starchy soups, you'll find the liquid will dissipate in the refrigerator and you'll be left with a blob for soup. That's okay. Re-heated over the stove with a little liquid -- water, milk, cream, stock -- the soup comes alive again.





Potato-Leek Soup with Rosemary and Roasted Garlic
Inspired by Molly Katzen

Yields 4 large (or 6 small) bowls

3 cups peeled and cubed New potatoes (or potatoes suitable for boiling)
3 leeks, finely sliced (white parts only)
2 tbsp unsalted butter
5 cups chicken (or good-quality vegetable) stock
2 tbsp roasted garlic*
2 dried bay leaves
1/2 tsp dried rosemary
Pinch cayenne pepper, or a dash of hot sauce
1 cup (or more) of milk*
Salt and pepper

Sour cream or plain Greek yogurt (optional)

In a heavy-bottomed pot or a Dutch oven, melt butter over medium heat and add leeks, stirring to ensure even coating. At this point, I like to let the leeks cook at medium-low to avoid burning them. Unlike onions, leeks do not add depth of flavour once caramelized, so be sure not to do that. Cook until they've softened quite substantially -- around ten minutes, I would say -- and then add the potatoes, stock, garlic, bay leaves, rosemary, a couple cracks of black pepper and salt. Bring to a boil and then reduce to a strong simmer. Let it sit, uncovered, until the potatoes are fork-tender. At this point, add the cayenne (or hot sauce) and adjust the seasoning. Fish out the bay leaves. Purée using a blender, immersion blender, or food processor, and return to the pot. Stir in one cup (or more) of milk or cream until you've reached the desired consistency.

Ladle into bowls and serve with a dollop of sour cream or plain Greek yogurt, if desired.

*A note on the garlic: to roast, slice off the top of the bulb and wrap the remainder in alluminum foil. Place in a 350°F oven for about 40 minutes, until the cloves become soft and sticky to the touch. Once slightly cool, squeeze the garlic from its peel and mash into a thick paste. This can be done ahead of time.

*I take 2% milk in my coffee, so I used that. It worked very nicely. You could use cream, but, in my opinion, the creaminess of the potatoes renders it unnecessary. If you don't have milk on hand or are allergic/intolerant, water is a fine substitute.