Sore Tummy?

I think it might be the heat....or the nervous mice that are collecting in the pit of my gut - either way, I woke up this morning with a sore tummy. I managed to get through a work-out, but, upon return from a busy day of document photocopying and Apple Adapter searching I was left feeling like the inside of my green bin on a day as hot as this - not so great.

Maybe it is all psychosomatic, not sure, but the little dinner I whipped up seems to be helping with the sore tummy:

1 cup of ginger/peppermint tea (I sliced the fresh ginger and threw it in my tea pot while I steeped some "CHOICE" organic Peppermint tea)

1 bowl of veggie broth, a handful of edamames and 4 sliced mushrooms. I added a little bit of cayenne to the broth. It was actually delicious. I am feeling a bit better and I am convinced that the food was the major factor in my recovery.

Bullfrog Power

HEY!
Check this out -
I took this picture out front of a house on my street....and I looked into the website and it seems pretty interesting and, what's even better, HOPEFUL! The company has a wonderfully designed website - check it out -

Ethiopian Vegan Style: A lesson in many things

Yummy at Yummy's:

As noted in my previous post....I was having a bummer of a day. However, with the exception of some deaths in my family, my tummy has always saved me from the 'depths of despair'.

So yesterday afternoon while I was sobbing my way through a packing party I was asked:

Hand on chin: "Where would you like to go for dinner tonight?"

"sob, sob...Ethiopian?"

Perhaps it was my tears, or perhaps it was the idea of doing Ethiopian vegan-style, but all of the 'yeses' were on my side of the kleenex box.

I wasn't expecting too much. To be honest, the reviews haven't been that grand; I have heard both good and bad, hot and cold about this tiny little trinket of a restaurant that is on the SOUTH side of Queen Street, just west of Brock St. (which is just west of Dufferin).

After walking around for a bit, trying to find the food-hut and while swimming through a troupe of wedding guests headed for a privately booked ceremony/reception at the Gladstone Hotel (horse out front, crowds adorned with clothes that suggested that this could have been the wedding of George Stroumboulopoulis, or the lead singer of Radio Head), we made it to the mecca that I had been dreaming about since coming back to Toronto M and B Yummy's Ethiopian Restaurant.

The restaurant has a bizarre feel to it. The neon green walls and the plastic bakery boxes that line them aren't the most welcoming. Nor, are the thin wicker chairs that sit around the functional, yet wobbly tables. But, hey, good enough for me. I couldn't care less. I am a vegan for god's sake and you are telling me that there is a restaurant that wants to cater to my bizarre life style? Take me anywhere and give me your most neon green and most wobbly table! Onward!

The menu was so interesting - full of words and dishes that I had never really seen before. There was a mention of chickpeas and a couple of chinese-esque faux meat dishes to help me, but for the most part I was stumped (a suggestion would be to have a fully developed legend and glossary at the back of the menu)* I left the ordering up to the dynamite woman who served us (when I say serve, I mean that in the vaguest of manners - it was that 'sort-of' service, where you want more attention and you are constantly feeling like the super nerd who has put their hand up too many times in class and no longer gets called upon).

Our waitress brought me number 15 on the menu, otherwise known as the Vegetarian Combo (this is a little funny because I usually only see 'vegetarian combo platter' at pubs and restaurants that present their v-combos complete with a couple of pieces of cheese, a hunk of bread and maybe some deep-fried something - but here, everything was the vegetarian combo-platter and it was all so interesting.)

There were also orders made for the chickpea shiro wot and the red lentil missir wot, but I was sold on my vegetarian platter the second the HUGE ufo-style plate was plunked down in front of my eyes. Upon a massive bed of injera bread (leavened bread made from TEFF flour) lay the heads of five smallish splashes of different 'goops', while a large, red, burning sun-like goop was constructed in the centre of my injera. The goops were an assortment of beans, spinach and lentils. The flavours were all so earthy and dark that the bright green heat of the diced, and liberally sprinkled, chillies evoked a bi-polar response from my taste buds. (but, like all mental illness, departing from the bland reality of the same old chickpea and cucumber salad is a delight!).

I completed the meal with a vegan ice cream cone (at this point in the meal I actually became emotional - when was the last time someone held out an ice 'cream' cone for me? I felt like a member of a winning relay team who was about to run the last 200 metres with the tastiest baton EVER).

Nathan passed on taking home his chickpea wot, so I enjoyed it this morning (cold) for breakfast. Excellent.

Although I have less than three weeks left in the city, I plan on hitting this place at least two more times - they have a great brunch and breakfast menu that is well worth the neon walls.
Overall, the restaurant, and its host left me curious and wanting more.

The vittles were cheap and the atmosphere was way more interesting than the sterile nature too-often being offered by other vegan establishments in the city (Sorry, Fresh, I love your salads, but it is a bit too austere). My favourite part of the evening has to be a photo finish between: the food, the crazy downstairs bathroom that had no toilet paper, and included a trudge through a child's play area before finding the toilet, and the hilarious manner in which the hostess had to look at the menus twice: once when we were ordering to see what exactly was on her menus and a second time when we were paying and she had to check the prices. Excellent.


*Don't read this unless you feel like joining in some cynicism against the nouveau-chic style in Vegetarian/Vegan dinning:

So, okay - this establishment is lacking in any real sign posts to tell you how to figure out what it is that you might be ordering, sure. But, this lack of pandering to the whitey in the room evoked some interesting and important experiences for myself and my fellow dinners:

1. We broke through the 'do not look' at each other barrier that usually exists between tables of people at restaurants. This great couple sitting behind me gave us a whole bunch of suggestions and advice about what to order, and than looked admiringly over my shoulder when my platter found its way home. They also proceeded to share their vast amount of inside knowledge about TEFF flour and where one might procure it in Toronto.

2. We had the chance to be educated by the owner of the shop - she shared her suggestions in an off-the-cuff kind of manner - "10 and 15". She went out of her way to try and find some literature about TEFF for those of us with a curiosity at the table. I was gushing with an inappropriate amount of thanks by the time we left. I feel in love with this woman; her kindness and her smile was so heartwarming and I think that much of this would have been lost if there was a little "lonely planet" guide attached to the menu.

3. Vegetarian Haven has a little "this is Seitan" guide at the back of its menu and Keith and I had the crappiest meal of our Vegan-hunting experience at this location.

In my opinion, anything that is going to get people talking and questioning their surroundings (especially when it is four well-off white people in the middle of parkdale) is worth it. Long live signs in a different tongue!

Let me Introduce CLAIRE

Despite the brown dog, and the brown drink I was having a rather blackish of a day. I have been having a blackish of a month (see previous 'boy in cushion-chair' post).

This pain is mine and I own it. I know it well and have been waiting (if not begging, inviting, praying) for it to come. I have been waiting for this month for a long time, because it is a signal, it is the proverbial white flag, the last U2 album, the hand in knuckled-fist wrapping on the chinese table - "It is done". The scorching pain and the rotten fruit of this whole experience is tough and ugly, but more simple than a Japanese aesthetic. The beauty is here - it is in the end - the end doesn't belong to a love or a life. It belongs to something, to a way, to a road, to a path that could have been a forever-over-life-over kind of route. So here it is: wrapped up tightly like a bound foot, or the inside mechanism of a Christmas Cracker - it is tight, it is ready, it is popping like a mother fucker all over my ear drum.

No matter how much a Cancer patient wants to die, no matter how sweet that sleep is, do not attempt to sell me some idea that with this long desired death there isn't that feeling of sheer horror and desperate pain. Don't lie to me and try to tell me that they don't want to hold onto the side of the gapping water slide's entry point. No matter how hot the plastic feeder tunnel-tube-waiting-area is, and no matter how cold, refreshing and long-awaited that rush-you-through-the-fear-of-the-fall is, don't tell me that they want to let go. Don't tell me.

So it hurts (add a million synonymous for this emotive marker right here) and it leaves you feeling scorched inside.

BUT, than you have moments inside this pain that are really brilliant. They are usually moments of self-reflection and deep understanding. These "oh, I get it!" moments being the most logically useful kind of lightness underneath your heavy Undertaker's coat of sorrow, but that doesn' t mean that they are the only (or even the most healthy) kind of moments available to us pilgrims whose emotional feet are dripping with blood and cut to pieces that one could almost imagine were once soft, pink skin.

I had a moment such as this tonight. Having to leave a long-time desired evening of vegan Ethiopian vittles (see the post to follow tomorrow), where I was trying so hard to enjoy the company of great people and brilliant conversation I wove my way up the street that connects to Lindsey Street and upon which I currently live. This particular section of the street includes the shop of a man who has been so loving towards me and my sadness the last few weeks, and the garden plot that sold me on the neighbourhood so many years ago. I took the photo that you will see below:


The sunflowers, that represented so much meaning to me on the way between Rocco's Pit and Gudrun's Grotto, were in full bloom - as are all Ontario sunflowers right now. I let the camera look past the sunflower, including it in the view, but capturing the bring new purple flower in all its glory. A garden can be so much more than what you originally planted - thanks to bees and seeds and children with burrs attached to their fleecy jackets.

Through the park and into the next cross section of my journey I found Claire. I knew her name right away. She looked abandoned and alone, just dying to meet me. So I met her. Now: I love kitties, I love doggies, I love one legged froggies. But this girl was special. She climbed up onto my squatted legs (aka my lap) and rubbed her little skinny face all over mine. She kissed me and loved me and made me remember one of the most magical spots in China. This little cat was all that I needed to see through my pain and move to a place where I was calm enough to finish my walk to my home, to my back door, to my living room, and soon - to my bed. But of course I spent a very long time with this little girl and I took all the love I could from her. I let this little cat make me feel better and I think I scratched her up pretty good as well. A dear friend captured the picture below. Originally, Claire was looking into the camera, but we locked eyes (as she was making muffins in my arms) and shared a moment as the sun dipped down behind the houses and my tummy stopped aching.

Another Brown....

A really good morning....

So I have been going on, and on about these lattes. The Silk Road Tea Company is being well represented by Edward the gentleman owner of The Common.


I can't even say anything that expresses the goodies found in these photos.

Lost Boy = Found Me

Sitting on Bloor drinking tea = me. (so I wasn't sitting 'right' on Bloor, but inside a corporate monster drinking tea - not because I wanted to, but because I was dying from the heat)

A comfy over stuffed wish-I-owned-you kind of chair was my throne, and at first the only view I had when I looked up from my New Yorker journal (thanks for that) was a unreadable kind of 'dude' guy who was unbuttoned (and I am SURE it was unintentional). Keeping my eyes cast down to avoid package/eye contact I failed to notice his departure and the capturing of the coveted overstuffed toadstool by a frail young man who was clutching a book and wearing all dark morose looking garb. It wasn't "I am a goth on Bloor and Bathurst-teen" wear, so much as it was "I might work at a bookstore, be a student or plow through my boss's travel itineraries as a personal assistance" kind of wear.

But, it wasn't all of this speculation that has forced me to pull over on my walk home and write this down....it was that he started crying.

Have you ever felt that you were looking at your insides? Well, I sure did today. Not to sound totally navel-gazing-self-reflective-bordering on being related to our anti-hero Narcissus, but holy(tofu)cow! There I was, right there, crying unashamed in the middle of this (horror) Starbucks.

I asked. After a mile worth of contemplation. I asked:

Are you okay?

Yes, it is fine.

And than he rose, I watched him walk away from the chair, out the door and into the street. He leaned against the building across the road. I guess I am doing that right now.

I LOVE ALLAN RICKMAN!

Ahhhhh....
recipe for my heart's desire.

Sitting in my favourite cafe on College (most decadent of Chai/Cocoa Lattes EVER) I overheard a British woman talking with her blue-haired oldish woman friend....and she was telling a story about "the last time Allan was in town, and he was in between the two potter films - he had his haired dyed all of these fantastic colours......" I had to interrupt and ask for clarification:

In my school girl shy voice (wait, I was never a shy school girl)

"You aren't talking about Allan Rickman 'the actor' are you?" I had dropped down to a whisper by the time I reached the end of the sentence.

"Why, yes, yes we are"

"I have the world's biggest crush on Mr. Rickman"

The woman giggles and tells me that they are good friends and went to school together.
Of course I am doing all that I can NOT to fall apart in an orgasmic goop all over the floor.

And she asks,
"would you like to hear his voice message?"

I stare - dumb. Just - dumb.

My response (so stupid, so fucking stupid)

"no....no, really I couldn't impose, and plus I would look like a total goofie girl-child"

"Suit yourself" (apparently this healthy looking woman is used to people losing their minds over her acquaintances and has no time to twist my arm into doing what I totally want to do)

So, my chance to hear his voice on someone else's cell phone (which I could have gleaned for inflections of love/lust for his real girl-hero-love (read: ME). But, alas, I did get to talk to someone who more than likely has glanced upon the naked legs of Allan, has seen the drunken smile of Mr. R, has heard a sneeze explode from that handsome handsome nose. Yes, I sat beside someone who has sat beside the love of my love.

I am ready to face the day - what ever that includes (no matter how free it is of Rickman sightings). Fantastic.

Yah for Emily!!!

Emily and Andrew before the ceremony

I just wanted to make a non-food entry about my kick ass sister! She is superb and always amazing. One week ago, I had the insanely emotional chance to watch this firecracker of a woman graduate from Barton high school. Yesterday matt and I were sitting in his focus discussing how bizarre it was to finally get to this place where Emily has taken this right of passage. We both remember thinking to ourselves sentences like this: "When Emily graduates from high school I will be......" Because of the age difference between Matthew, myself and little miss Emily, the older of us have had the opportunity to watch the evolution of this super star, and Thursday night of last week really accentuated this passage of time, and highlighted what a dedicated pair of parents we have.

Emily graduated with a truck full of awards, a jaw dropping average, a spot at the University of Toronto's Trinity College and a great group of friends. But, I have to say, that it is Emily's ubiquitous goodness of personality, a total pervasiveness in her whole approach to be great, an overarching stitch to her narrative so far that is full of good deeds and moments of kindness - it is this collection of her attributes that causes me to stop and gawk in amazement at this little ball of energy and altruism. She is pretty wonderful. I just can't wait to see what else she is going to get up to.Rick, Emily and Mom

Ontario - my Strawberries to Discover....

This post should have come down the pipe line a long while ago, but there have been other things in the oven besides good food and summer fun. Packing, organizing and trying to tame my wild cat (Biggums) have taken up some of my usual blogging time.

This isn't so much a recipe as it is a saucy celebration of Ontario strawberries. Yummy.
Obviously you are going to want to snap up the organic variety, but, to be honest, I would take the conventional form of strawberries FOR SURE.

Speaking of strawberries - this saturday will be all about the Organic Strawberry Festival at Dufferin Grove Park. It is being put on by the new health food store in the neighbourhood (Sunshine Natural Foods, which is on the corner of Dovercourt and College). There is going to be some yummy lemonaid, crepes and of course loads of reasonably priced organic strawberries. I think everyone should check it out (after checking out my garage sale first).

The Ontario Strawberries that I picked up last week lasted quite some time and they were tiny, fresh little red globes of love love love. I used them in a couple of shakes, used them in a couple of breakfast yummies (see photo) and of course I ate a whack of them RAW. They would have been great coated with some cocoa, (but that just might be where I am at in the moon cycle of things).There wasn't much to this bowl of goodness (which, if my camera wasn't being a jerk you could see is supporting the program from my most brilliant sister's graduation).

12 ontario strawberries - washed, cuddled and sliced.
1 banana - sliced
2 tablespoon of flax seed
2 tablespoons of oats
if you are feeling super sexy - add some soy milk and cinnamon



I am reading a most brilliant book - It is: Don't Get Too Comfortable, and is written by David Rakoff - the most hilarious gay man I have ever had the opportunity to read (he loves telling his reader that he is Gay (capital G). It is amazingly well written. It makes me laugh out loud and it picks my brain in a delightful way.
Pick pick. (strawberries).

Angry 'Coon Curry

I had a weekend guest who concocted the most beautiful vegan meal I have ever had the pure joy of putting to my lips. The entire dish, from consistency and flavour, to presentation and texture, was perfectly perfect.

Having only been left in charge of the odd wok stirring, and the consistent replenishing of our wine cups, my rendition of the recipe will be flawed, but I couldn't deny the world the posting of this world-altering union of taste.

Angry 'Coon Curry
(the 'Coon who I speak of was hiding in the roof of my porch during the preparation of the dish. He became so incensed with being unable to partake in the goodness of the vittles that he proceeded to literally RIP down the ceiling and throw the SLATES of wood to the ground)

4 portobello mushrooms (heads snapped off and gently washed)
2 large cooking onions (cut into chunks of approx. 2cm squared)
1 green bell pepper
1 red bell pepper
1 can of chick peas
1 can of black peas

cumin
coriander
yellow curry powder
salt
pepper (in a dead puppy pepper grinder)
some funny little black seed (THAT I THOUGHT WAS MUSTARD)
chili and garlic curry paste
1 can of coconut milk
garlic (diced)
fresh ginger (peeled, pounded and diced)

The spices (pepper, cumin, salt, curry powder,coriander) were toasted in the large un-oiled skillet with the intent or roasting and releasing the flavour.
The portobellos were dry roasted.
A touch of oil was added (I really dropped the ball by not having peanut or sunflower oil)
and the onions, peppers and a touch of water were added to the mix.
Following this garlic and ginger were added at this point, along with the pepper duo.
Following a quick smoke/wine drinking break chickpeas, black beans and curry paste were added.
Coconut Milk came next, with the dish being than allowed to sit and stew for about 20 minutes.
While the curry was getting more delicious by the milllisecond Nappa Cabbage (Chinese Cabbage) was diced and laid out in the shape of a circle in the middle of two glasses plates.

Finally the olfactory-pleasing and taste bud-party of a dish was ready. I almost had a seizure due to the explosions detonating in all nerve sensors - but I would rather choke on my tongue than have gone my whole life without tasting this beautiful plate of food.

I admit to enjoying another large portion today at lunch - which may have signed my death warrant - I am certain I saw the raccoon looking in the window. Oh well.

What is Dirty Blister Infection?

I have a hole in my foot. I am not sure if I got around to mentioning the blister a super cute pair of shoes from Le Chateau happened to drill into my heel? Since I haven't been interrupted by a florist delivering me your sympathies I will assume not....

The blister isn't THAT large. Well, perhaps the size of a quarter? How about the size of a dried apricot procured at Strictly Bulk on Bloor and Ossington? Anyhow, blistered my ankle be. I covered it almost immediately (which may be my problem), but noticed that by Sunday night it was warm, red and signing its own rendition of some really great Broadway tunes (okay - as an aside, there is the CRAZIEST woman on Jeopardy right now!!)

I decided that rather than have my foot swell itself right out of my Birkenstock or deny me one more afternoon without my cyclefit class (I admit to having cycled on Sunday when I should have taken a day of reprieve) I would head over to the Christie and Bloor Walk In Clinic. I was ready to wait an hour (or four), but I was actually the only patient and was seen within five minutes. After a quick (and totally unneeded) groping by the Dr, I was treated with BOTH a cream and an oral antibiotic (so Roger, I think you were wrong, this thing COULD kill me).

I am quite sure that this expensive duo is NOT vegan, but I have to say that my moral fibre is not willing to do a full investigation at this point - I want my leg. Is that terrible? Is that bending to the unavailability of vegan first-aid/antibiotic formulas?

The shoes that I thought I had gotten a fantastic vegan steal on ($29.99) seem to have now cost me around 80 bucks once you work in the cost of the medicine, the bandages and the now unwearable shoes.....but hey! at least I got felt up by the doctor! Excellent.

PlowPeople - Vegan Style

The plowman's platter has always held sway with my tummy - not for the cheese, meat or bread so much as for the aesthetic of little food chunks so sweetly compartmentalized on your plate. I also really dig the idea of its tradition. Vegan's aren't likely to find options to their liking in the plowman's platter: at least not in most conventional eateries, but when has this limitation stopped me from satisfying my own foodie desires?

With a beautiful day making it impossible to spend even a meal time of one hour suffocating between four walls, we found our way into the heart of St. James' Church (the corner of Church and King). Prior to making our way over to the church we spent about 45 minutes exploring the offerings of St. Lawrence vendors. It was when we spied the giant roasted-garlic-stuffed olives and the sundried tomoatoes that we knew our lunch was going to be of the sampling variety.
We eventually settled on the aforementioned olives, and tomatoes, but added to this some artichoke hearts, blueberries, cherries and a lovely little apple. I must admit that to this lunch there was also a string of intensly hot 'pepperoni' (which of course I passed on).

With our food and forks in hand we made our way over to an inviting bench and spent two hours admiring the dresses of mother's of the bride and making plans for an upcoming trip to Montreal. The lunch was a perfect little compliment to the bites and bits of conversation shared in the church's garden, so eloquently called: God's Garden.

My Monastic Rice Pudding Party

While penning (or keying rather) this post I am enjoying the second podcast in the Medieval Studies Series - which is researched, written and read by some fellow who has the most excellent medieval-my-real-name-is-Beuwolf kind of voice. It is excellent. A great friend to the delightful desert I managed to portage all the way home from the Carrot Common.

The Carrot Common, which use to be known more simply as "The Big Carrot" has gone (in my opinion) from being a homey, authentic-like healthy/organic/Earth-minded shop to a scrubby version of Whole Foods. Gone are the dreadlocks, gone are the millet crusted cookies, and welcomed are the gentrified yuppie-puppies who are scanning through my bulk raisins wearing their LL Bean Hemp shirt with their eyes plastered with a fake smile that shines through their 240 dollar Alfred Sung specs. I know this is a cynical review. I know. I am just finding myself frustrated with the commercialization of a lifestyle that I think is important and essential to the world we are destroying. Organic, wellness, health, yoga, digestive enzymes - all of these things have become buzz words that sit next to latte, apple, lulu lemon and Volkswagen. Being well, being vegan, 'going' organic has all become precious and elevated. I want the healthiest and most organic to be available to everyone or none. Damn it.

Health and wellness should not be a pop label. Rather, more like a Gregorian chat - deep and pervasive and lasting and, in a most monastic way, available to the lay, to the most indigent to the most feeble.

Let's get on this.

After my rant:
Let me say that the Carrot's own brand of vegan rice pudding is quite good. Although, personally, I would have gone without the maple syrup and apple juice. I might just have to try this weekend and see what I can whip up for myself.

Yummmmmm

Decisions...decisions

I can't make them. I have a couple that need tending, and like my back garden, I am full of intentions and plans and exciting little crops of goodness; the weeds and erratic nature of the environment is weighing down hope for clear path making.

I had an interesting experience happen to me on the way to yoga on Sunday night. It was one of those moments where you aren't quite sure how to act, and you are afraid that your gut feeling might be misplaced or just down right Conservative.

I had taken my mac to the shop and actually had it fixed FOR FREE, by a wonderfully quiet and knowledgeable man at PCUSED (a great little shop on Bathurst and Dupont), and decided to go straight to yoga following the rebirth of my laptop. Good idea - get there a bit early, maybe do some more cardio (because the two hours in the morning wasn't enough). However, good intentions...blah blah...you know the idiom. Taste of Little Italy was robbing me of a quick path down College and I had to trudge (and it did, given the heat and hoards of people, feel like trudging) my way down about 10 blocks before getting to the YMCA locker room. But! I still had a few moments to spare before yoga. Rather than jumping on the elliptical, I ran across the street for a soy milk - Starbucks...why do you charge me 3 50 for warm soya milk - and Lyndsay...why do you pay for it? Anyhow, as I reached for the door I was cut off by a man who I had seen in the coffee shop on numerous occasions - yelling, screaming and causing general raucous. It was clear that he had mental illness of some variety. No problem. However, on this hot Sunday afternoon, the fellow stepped in front of me and blocked my entrance to my soya milk. I tried to dodge around him, no luck. I asked him to move, no luck - he kept staring at me accusingly. I think I was invading his sanctuary. Fair enough. But I wanted a drink. I asked him a couple more times to move, in a fairly pleasant manner, and than....than he lashed out and tried to punch me! Whoah. Not expecting that. I got a little nervous, backed off and waited for him to head off. Afterwards I went inside and spoke to the manager who informed me that they were trying to get him off their property but were having difficulty.

My thoughts are this: If he had hit me - he would have been in a lot of trouble. If I had been someone else and he had hit me, he might have put himself in danger. Shouldn't he be removed from the streets because he is a danger to himself and to others? But this is the ugly blurry line that I can't decide is making me a big asshole or not........When is someone a danger? When does it become an issue of social responsibility? Does everyone have the right to freedom even if it means that they are potentially setting themselves up for harm? And if they do not have the capacity to understand that potential who gets to decide this, and than of course the larger answer - who is given the responsibility to police this?
Of course there are obvious cases that need little moral or ethical stomach knots in order to come to a clear answer - if someone is in a state of mental understanding whereby they feel it acceptable to punch, kick, bite, try to have sex etc, every single person who comes their way. That doesn't give me as much mental trauma to come up with the thought that they need intensive and special treatment. But, what if, it is just the odd attack of the yoga soy seeking girl at the local coffee shop? BUT - what if that yoga girl did not have her chakra's lined up and was a tough cookie who hit back and knocked any offending fist slinging person out? What then? The initial fist slinger is putting themselves in the way of peril and yet they are either not aware or not caring....what do we do??? Hmmmm.....I just will have to go and try and fight my way to some more soya milk to come up with an answer.

Sharing that didn't help me in my road to decision making, but it did waste some time. Good.

Another Look: Four Years Later

I trekked back to Hamilton in the back of my parent's speeding sedan. With riotous tales of early morning robberies as my auditory accompaniment I watched the world of Hamilton whip by. Four years ago I left it behind, even when we returned it wasn't with the same intention, even when we hadn't actually left I was out the door. Sometime around Locke and Stanley, but definitely by the time I started stealing the mini-van for trips to the back of your warehouse. I was already gone.
After a brief stop at the Rockingham Hotel (now affectionately known as "the scene of the crime") we made our way down to Il Fiasco to celebrate a number of family happinesses - Emily and her acceptance into Trinity One, Mom's promotion, Father's Day, Anne Marie's Birthday, Matthew's 90, and my new job. I selected Il Fiasco tonight for a couple of reasons.

1) I am all about self-deprecation and I had some of my WORST dates ever in this now expanded eatery (read: Spinach in teeth)
2) I absolutely hate the owner and was looking for a fight
3) I wanted to check out their new dinner menu
4) I wanted/needed to go back to the scene of my own crime.

Emily and I hit Goodness Me, while mom and Rick grabbed our reservation (though, upon walking in at 7 pm, we realized that when dining on a deserted island one hardly needs to make reservations). Goodness Me was a bit disapointing, although I did grab some organic nanners and 2 for 5 rice milks.

The waiter appeared to have done a few lines of coke in the back room before making his way to our table. His discomfort was tangible at first, but, after what I assume was a few more tokes off the prep table, he loosened right up.

The menu hadn't changed much in the four years since I had started (for a brief period of about 6 months) haunting this bistro 'ish' hole in the wall - which now that they have dug further into the back of the building and without the assistance of any additional windows, one could very well confuse the back tables with a grotto of sorts. They chef/owner was still clinging to the pasta/pizza/seafood fare, adding dishes rather than categories to the offerings.

Having forgone my FAVOURITE HAMILTON yummy house for this I was sad to see that they had resisted my vegan needs and had yet to have even ONE item on the menu that didn't include at least one of the following: meat, cheese, milk or cream. Sorry, so sorry - the organic greens salad with the same blueberry dressing (although the dressing is less satisfying than it was 4 years ago) seems to pass as vegan.

I listened to my family, watched them enjoy their butternut squash stuffed ravilio, pad thai and baked brie and realized that tonight wasn't about the food, or the atmosphere created by a pair of self-important 'let's make west-hamilton special' boobs. Nope - this was about spending time with my family and being a part of something really amazing.

My pizza (special ordered - sans feta and plus onions) was alright...and everyone seemed to really dig the food - although the rice dish was too spicy for mom, and Anne Marie looked like she needed a medic to cool her down when she finished her Pad Thai.

I love my family and I love all of our stories.
Here's to families that can pull it together and still love each other at the end of it all.
Tofu to that!


I dedicate the next recipe to a certain little baby 'a'. Momma Mercat will have to make it for you, but I think you would really 'dig' it (get it angelique, dig it! hah)

A's Raisins and Nanners

1 organic banana (sliced into banana coins as the fancy tv chefs say)
1/2 package of soft tofu
2 tablespoons of vanilla
1 tablespoon of cocoa
2 tablespoons of organic oats
a handful of raisins

Throw the vanilla, tofu, banana and cocoa into a bowl and fire up your hand blender.
When everything is nice and smooth ladle into a serving dish and through your oats and raisins right on top. Enjoy! Yum.

Notorious Little Vegan

Last night I watched (or fell asleep to) a rather disappointing retelling of Betty Paige's life. yuck - it was terrible. But, in falling asleep before 9 30 I was able to wake up early enough to put in 3.5 hours at the gym this morning! I had a great cycle fit class....all of this exercise led up to a fantastic cook-off tonight that consisted of a killer refried beans recipe and some excellent guacamole.

But!
Before I get to my dinner I have to share my beauty treasure for the day: SunCoat Nailpolish, number 24. The colour is a tad more 'goldish' in hue than I was hoping for, but I can live with it. I found this little treasure at Noah's on Bloor at Spadina, and although it was more pricey than your average nail polish, it is 70% natural product and it isn't tested on animals.

Okay, so the beans.

I started with some Canola in my large wok, and added some organic tofu (1/2 a package that I pressed and than diced into small cubes). To the tofu I added some pepper and oregano. I let this satay for a wee bit and than added the diced red pepper, green pepper and a hot house tomato. While this little mixture warmed up a la medium to high heat (the tomatoes were great for adding liquid and preventing any sticking), I got to work on my guacamole only to find that I had left myself with only 1/2 an avocado (thanks to my chocolate pie adventure of last weekend), but I made do by adding 1/2 a tomato, the juice of 1 lemon and 3 cloves of garlic. I contemplated adding some silken tofu, but decided against it.
Back to the beans. I decided to go grad-school-stanely-ave styles and rather than using black beans I used some PC refried beans...they are nicely spiced....and voila, a little salsa, a little love and a whole lot of yummy.
I warmed up some pita in the oven and enjoyed a little bit of wendy mesley's Market Place (watch out of insurance deals when buying a car!) while eating my bucket full of beans.

They didn't last long enough for me to get a photo................

I have no idea what those silly goats are doing. But, they have horns so I am not going to mess with them.

Squares and Pods

I had a wonderful trip through Dufferin Grove Park tonight. All the 'bring your own bag' folks were milling about the growing-by-the-week number of vendors that were offering everything from organic herbs and horizontally traded chocolate to soy based treats and raw granola. I was glad to have only 2.50 on me or I think I might have opted for more than the vanilla-coconut square that I ruined my dinner with.

I am off to Vancouver next weekend. I am really looking forward to seeing Angelique and the littles. She has the best troop of littles and she really is an amazing mom. I will have to take a bunch of vegannie goodness with me, I am not sure how many options I will have in Campbell River and especially in Zeballos or Tassis. I am hoping to see the SuperPod.

My Avocado Chocolate Surprise

Nursing a supposed pulmonary embalism (never will I go to a walk in clinic again), I settled into my long weekend with a couple of movies. The most startling and well done was by the director of Hoop Dreams - Steve James. Check out Stevie if you are in for an evening of depressing and frightening nature of the human condition. Oh, and keep your eye on the puppy at the beginning of the film - he is the most light hearted aspect of the doc.

Anyhow, the other pick was Go Further, a documentary that followed the west coast (really bad) speaking 'mission' taken-on, and completed, by Woody Harrelson. The film wasn't that fantastic, a little self-congratulatory, though I was impressed with how little WH was actually in the movie - and he is one of the only guys to ever pull off hemp pants. Anyhow, one of the entourage that was traveling with Woody and his gang of do-gooders was a raw food chef. And low and behold she blew my mind by making (ahhh...NOT baking) an avocado-chocolate pie.

Although the credits didn't include the recipe, I was on a mission. I used a compilation from a couple of recipes that I found on vegweb.com, and before meeting Miss. Rankin for a nice little Monday afternoon tea (not green) I shopped myself silly in Kensington (you would be surprised how few shops were open on the holiday).....and I turned out a pretty amazing pie (Okay - I ate so much last night while watching The Name of the Rose that I was sick all day today).
Here is my recipe - give it a try and let me know. I still have half a pie left in the freezer, so be sure to stop by the Gladstone pad for taste testing.

Crust:
1 cup of walnuts (soaked)
1 cup of walnuts (chopped up in your food processor)
1/2 cup of cashews (chopped up in your food processor)
1/2 cup of dates
1/2 cup of raisins
1 tablespoon of cocoa
1 tablespoon of vanilla (I grabbed some authentic stuff from a Latin American shop)

Filling:
2 avocados
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
4 tablespoons of cocoa
1 banana
1/3 cup of dates

Okay - here we go:

Set aside the 1 cup of soaking walnut crumbles - let them be for about 1/2 hour. It makes them nice and sticky.
Add in your food processor your cashews and other cup of walnuts, whir the heck out of these until you are left with a mealie mush. Add to the mush your dates and raisins and whir her up. Add the cocoa, and remaining nuts and...whir. You should end up with a 'crust' that will lay nice and flat in your pie dish. Press the dough down firmly, and throw it in the freezer while you are getting the filling ready.
This is the easy part - throw EVERYTHING, except the dates, into the food processor and whip it up. I left mine while I was doing the dishes - The last thing I wanted was any avocado lumpies in the pie. While doing the dishes let the dates and about 1/2 a cup of water come to boil (see....mine isn't totally raw)...and let the dates boil down into an almost chutney consistency. Add this into your filling and whir again. If you feel the need to add some more sweetness you can add some chocolate via more cocoa or melt down some vegan chocolate chips.
All you have to do is add the filling to the crust and throw it back in the freezer.
I recommend leaving it for about 2 hours and then enjoying!!!


Avocados for ALL!!!!

Ohhh...and last night I added some Quinoa to a whack of left over chickpea curry and I managed to impress a certain boy......

Soya Sad

Spending time with my grade seven girl's club group has made me sad.
We met today during their lunch hour and of course with the pretense of the hour at hand it was easy for me to openly inquire about the whereabouts of some of the girls' lunches.
"I am fat. I don't eat"
"I never eat lunch...or breakfast"
"I'm hungry, but I am fat, so I don't eat lunch"
These three separate, and yet equally disturbing comments came from three separate and yet equally NON fat girls (women).
It was hard for me to hide my 28 year-old concern (you know the kind that makes a teenager want to throw up all over you), and instead I turned it into a lesson about metabolism, and that by not eating they are actually putting themselves at risk to gain UNHEALTHY weight - not too mention the liver failure, the hair loss and the ceasation of mesnses that likes to disturb the unhappy life of most anorexics. I also talked about how some very thin girls are as unhappy with their bodies as those with the inverse concern - the girls not eating their lunches seemed to find this hard to believe, and who, when exposed to our thin=happy culture could blame them.
I didn't want to talk about metabolism and teach them about how they can NOT slow down their metabolism. I wanted to scream at them and tell them that they are beautiful, and that they should eat if it feels good, and exercise when it feels good, and rest when they want to, and eat fruit, nuts and peanut butter when they want to (all items they were discussing and labeling as 'make you fat' foods), but of course I couldn't. At 12 and 13 these girls are looking for my affirmation, love or concern. They aren't even looking for their parents' love or support (something that I realized later in the session when we were doing a quick activity) - nope. They want to be loved by their friends - and many of them by male 'friends' and bound up in this notion of friendship and self (via peer) admiration is the concept of thin=beauty. And this is ugly and totally wrong. Totally wrong.
I feel sad. Sad for them, sad for me as a 12 year old - I remember being caught up in that, and really believing that only if I was thin would I really be good enough. I also feel sad for 28 year old me who is still haunted by old thoughts and fears.
This world is so unhealthy, so dissatisfied with itself and it is turning in on who we naturally are - and, well, that just sucks a rusty chickpea.