I was going to start this entry off with me waxing poetic about Saturday morning, but I think I’ll start off with the deviled egg recipe (part 2 of the Great Deviled Egg Experiment, remember) I did on Friday instead. It was rainy Friday and with the CBC on in the background, I puttered around the house, alternately watching season 3 episodes of Supernatural, and deciding when to make these. I must admit that by paying attention to how I boil the eggs and when to stop the boiling and dunking them in an ice bath, I so far have completely managed to avoid that unsightly gray outer on the yolks. I was going to completely use the pickle relish I had in the fridge but after being unsure as to whether the jar may have been spoiled or it was utterly normal to have occasional bright green flecks in said relish, I just made them super plain but added some leftover chives. And hey, if you know whether or not it is in fact utterly normal to have bright green flecks in your jar of pickle relish, do let me know.

Yes, I know they don’t look anything special, but they are tasty.

Grandma Stanley’s Deviled Eggs

6 eggs

3 tbl. mayonnaise

2 tbl. sweet pickle relish

salt and pepper to taste

Place the eggs in a saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes. Cool the eggs in cold water. Crack and peel. Cut in half lengthwise.

In a small bowl, combine the yolks, mayonnaise and pickle relish. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Fill the white halves with the filling.

Ahhh….Saturday mornings. A little bit of sleeping in then getting up all fuzzy from slumber, but as you slump at the kitchen table, bleary, your husband has coffee ready for you. And you sit there, sipping, poring over the pages of one of your newest cookbooks.

One thing about our Saturday morning is that we take our time getting to breakfast. There are a couple of little piddly cleaning things to be done or tidying things to be done. I take that back: he does some tidying while I sit there, rallying my brain cells to wake up.

We live in a happy house with three cats; two boys, one girl. The girl cat—one of the set that I entered into marriage with—likes to prowl around the kitchen while we make breakfast. She’s fairly verbal in her increasing dotage but it’s always the kind of verbal where you’re pretty sure she’s chastising you. In our heads, Drusilla sounds a lot like Katharine Hepburn.

At the great pain of sounding like a Crazy Cat Lady, I love our cats to death. It’s interesting living in a house with such distinct feline personalities. Drusilla is the boss, Picasso is the happy-go-lucky dude and of course, Ozzy is our special needy case. I am thankful to have them around to entertain and astound us.

Saturday mornings for me now are very different than they were when I was single. For one, the odds of a hangover are greatly reduced.

Another thing is that my husband cooks breakfast for me. Although he would like to state that I really only let him cook on weekend mornings.

The LSC likes to make pancakes; he uses this old 70s-era cookbook dedicated to Northern cooking. Well, this weekend he used his standby recipe with a few adjustments.

This time out he wanted to make coffee pancakes. And as much as I admit to “mother-henning” when he’s in the kitchen, I tried not to point out that the batter was too loose and that pan didn’t feel as hot as it should. I was proved right when the first batch turned out badly.

Upon yet further adjustments, his pancakes achieved their goal: crisp edges, soft insides and a clear hint of coffee throughout.

I laud him his efforts at pancakery. I myself have actually never tried to make homemade pancakes, years of my mother’s superior specimens cowing me and spoiling me for life. I suppose I should actually get around to making my own someday but again, it’s hard when you have a husband who does it so ably. These days, there is just something wonderful about Saturday mornings. I expect now that I am content with my lot up here in Canada, there will hopefully continue to be wonderful Saturday mornings. If I am a lucky girl, I just might have a chance.

I always said I was never a baker. I still don’t consider myself one, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try every now and again.

And while there is a very long list of Things I Have Not Attempted to Make, I can cross pie crust off the list. To be fair, this is more of an apple tart than an apple pie, but it still requires making the base from scratch. You can cheat and use frozen-puff pastry—and honestly, I almost did—but I don’t think I have to tell you that won’t be quite the same labor of love.

I was amazed and astounded that my pie crust turned out wonderfully.

I say this to all would-be bakers or cooks who are skittish about baking: Don’t be. Baking isn’t easy; it’s more like chemistry than anything because there aren’t many flexible rules. Regardless, you should try to bake something, anything. I find a good benchmark for baking (at least to me) is to think of something you really like to eat and attempt to make it. I mean, look at the Brownie Experiment. I made three different recipes and only one of them was worth a damn, but I am so glad I did so.

Tarte Tatin

For the dough:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. sugar

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, chilled and cut into pieces

2 to 4 tbl. ice water

For the filling:

2 to 4 Golden Delicious apples, peeled and cored

2 tsp. lemon juice

3 tbl. unsalted butter

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

1/8 tsp. cinnamon

1/8 tsp. nutmeg

1 tbl. granulated sugar

For the glaze (optional):

1 tbl. unsalted butter

3 tbl. granulated sugar

2 tbl. calvados (apple brandy)

To make the dough: Combine the flour, salt and sugar in a bowl of a food processor. Add the butter pieces and process for about 8 to 10 seconds. With the food processor running, add the ice water in a steady stream through the feed tube. Process until the dough forms a ball, about 30 seconds. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour.

To make the filling: Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cut the apples into 1/8-inch to 1/4-inch slices. Put them in a bowl and toss them with lemon juice.

In a saucepan over medium-high heat, melt the butter with the brown sugar. Add the cinnamon, nutmeg and apple slices. Cook the apples for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they become tender and most of the liquid has evaporated.

Sprinkle the sugar into a 9- or10-inch buttered glass pie plate. Arrange the apple slices in the pie plate.

Roll out the chilled dough on a floured countertop (or between 2 sheets of parchment paper) to about 1/8-inch thickness, then place it over the apples. Trim off any excess dough, then tuck the dough down inside the edge of the pie plate. Prick the dough 4 or 5 times with a fork to allow steam to be released.

Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown. Allow the tart to cool for about 10 to 15 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the pie plate to loosen the tart. Place a serving plate over the tart and carefully invert the tart onto the serving plate.

To make the glaze: Meanwhile, in a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter with the sugar. Add the calvados and heat for about 3 minutes.

Drizzle tart with glaze, if desired, and serve warm.

Last night we had our neighbors Louise and Florent over for dinner. They are a kindly couple who live next door and gladly watch our cats for us when we go out of town because they too are cat people. For some reason, I always see dinner parties as a sort of a challenge and not the relaxing events they should be. I think this is part because I get anxious about whether or not I can see to my guests’ dietary needs or if they will want dessert and port afterwards as we sit idly at the table, discussing wheat futures. Usually I am still busy in the kitchen when guests arrive so I have to rely on the LSC to make the small talk and pour the wine while I am finishing up. Of course, there is also my weird need to impress culinarily. I often forget that most dinner guests are satisfied with simplicity as they are really there to see you and not the food. One day I’ll get that through my thick skull.

A few notes about this dish. The recipe originally called for crawfish, but seeing as how I got something of a blank stare from the LSC when I asked if crawfish were available locally, I subbed shrimp instead. Also I don’t think I simmered the cream sauce long enough because it never quite got that velvety thick consistency I was looking for. Thankfully the pasta absorbed it nicely and no one could tell the difference.

Crawfish or Shrimp Alfredo

2 tbl. unsalted butter, divided

3 cloves garlic, minced, divided

2/3 cup white wine

2 3/4 cups heavy cream, divided

1 tsp. Cajun seasoning, divided

1 lb. fettucine or other pasta

1  1/2 cups seafood or chicken broth

12 oz. crawfish tail meat or shrimp, tails attached

2 tsp. Cajun seasoning

1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

In a saucepan over medium heat, melt 1 teaspoon butter. Add about 2 cloves of the minced garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the wine and 2 cups cream. Bring to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until reduced by half, about 30 minutes. Add Cajun seasoning, or season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside.

In the meantime, bring a large pot of water to boil. Cook the pasta to al dente, drain and set aside. (Can be made up to 24 hours ahead. Store covered in the refrigerator.)

In a large pan, heat 1 tablespoon of butter over medium-high heat and add the remaining garlic. Cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds, then add the seafood or chicken broth and the crawfish. Bring to a boil, then add the remaining cream. When it comes to a boil, add remaining 2 teaspoons of butter and the reduced cream mixture. Stir in the Cajun seasoning, or season to taste wtih salt and pepper. Stir in the cooked pasta. Bring once again to a simmer, cook 15 seconds, then remove from the heat. Stir in the Parmesan cheese and serve.

I love Tomato Season. I love Tomato Season so much that I grant those two words capital letters. Tomato Season is not yet here, but oh, it’s a-comin’.

If there is one thing I know that makes me a Southern girl down to my bones, is my love of a good tomato. On a hot summer day, a tomato sandwich on good bread with lots of black pepper and a thin slick of mayo (preferably homemade) is worth its weight in gold. When I discovered heirloom tomatoes a couple of years back—bright and exotic colors speared on toothpicks and glossed with grassy olive oil and cracked pepper—I thought I had found heaven. So you can imagine my excitement in realizing that within a few scant weeks, Tomato Season will be in full swing, baby.

Yesterday I picked up some not-too-shabby lovelies from my local grocer’s and set to making a super simple pasta sauce for dinner. Along with some garlic bread that could kill Dracula, the luscious sauce (finally using that lemon-pepper linguini lurking in our pantry) was super yummy. My only notes on this recipe was that I omitted the fresh flat-leaf parsley because my plants aren’t producing yet and they didn’t have the proper kind at the grocer’s. Also I used up a bit of pasta sauce I had in the fridge to thicken it up a little.

Dessert was some artisanal chocolates picked up from Grandbois Chocolatiere in Montreal. While I can’t point out to you which flavors were which, I can tell what they were:

* pimento (i.e., peppery)

* balsamic reduction (which I quite like)

* sea-salt caramel (hands-down the winner!)

* hazelnut (nothing exceptional yet still tasty)

Gourmet chocolates AND exquisite tomato sauces??? Oh, summer, I think I may fall in love with you!

Tomato, Caper and Basil Sauce

1 tbl. olive oil

1 cup finely chopped onion

2 cups seeded and chopped fresh plum tomatoes

1 28-oz. can tomatoes with Italian herbs, drained

3 tbl. capers, rinsed

2 tbl. minced garlic

2 tsp. dried basil

chopped flat-leaf parsley for garnish

freshly grated Parmesan cheese for garnish

Heat oil in a Dutch oven. Add onion; cook 8 minutes or until softened. Add all tomatoes, capers and garlic. Bring to boil; reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes or until thickened. Stir in basil; cook 2 minutes. Garnish as desired.

Up here, we have Victoria Day instead of Memorial Day, but that was last weekend for us. Today has no special getting-off-work-and-drinking-beer-all-day significance for us. As an expat, I sort of miss it. Invariably I would have to work in the morning on Memorial Day, but that meant I would also have the rest of the day off.

In any case, Saturday was a good day for us. We made a run to the local version of Home Depot in order to gather some mulch, black earth and a whole buncha flats of fresh herbs for me. Having a herb garden is one of those little dreams that I have wanted for some time and having a plenty of room on the front lawn made it a possibility. I then made these devilled eggs you are seeing in the photos to take over to Michael and Leah’s BBQ cookout. My husband and I aren’t really party people (surprise, surprise) but give me some alcohol and I can deal and talk with people.

Thankfully, I didn’t get too drunk.

Okay, so know how I had the Brownie Experiment? Well, buckle up for the Devilled Egg Experiment. I have six varying recipes and this was only number one.

Pimento Cheese Deviled Eggs

adapted from “Deviled Eggs: 50 Recipes from Simple to Sassy” by Debbie Moose (Harvard Comment Press)

6 eggs, hard-boiled and peeled

1/4 cup finely shredded sharp cheddar cheese

2 tbl. mayonnaise

1 tbl. plus 1 tsp. pimentos, drained and chopped

2 tsp. Dijon mustard

2 tsp. chopped Vidalia onion

1/2 tsp. minced garlic

salt and pepper to taste

chopped pimentos for garnish

Cut eggs in half, reserving whites. Place folks in a bowl and add cheese, mayonnaise, pimentos, mustard, onion and garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon or pipe into reserved whites. Garnish yolks with chopped pimento.

Thursday was a wonderfully unnaturally warm day where I live. It was the kind of warmth that made me miss home.

We were having friends over for dinner that evening and I suppose that I should have made something a little less winter-y, but I already had the fixins’ for chili so chili it was gonna be. Fortunately, with cool white wine and a crisp green salad, it wasn’t too gauche.

I am used to having the Matts over for dinners but entertaining fellow heterosexual couples is something new to me. I think I pulled it off very well. Of course, practice makes perfect, yes?

Black Bean Chicken Chili

1 tbl. canola oil

3/4 chopped onion

2 cloves minced garlic

2 to 3 tbl. chili powder

1 tbl. dried oregano

2 tsp. cumin

1/4 salt

3 cups chopped or shredded cooked chicken

1 28 oz. can undrained fire-roasted tomatoes

2 cups fat-free chicken broth

1 1o oz. package frozen corn, thawed

2 15 oz. cans rinsed black beans (I used dried black beans prepared in a slow cooker the night before)

shredded sharp cheddar cheese

fat-free sour cream (I used plain low-fat yogurt instead)

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet or Dutch oven on medium. Add onion, garlic, chili powder, oregano, cumin and salt. Cook 4 minutes or until vegetables are softened. Stir in chicken, tomatoes and broth. Simmer, uncovered, 15 minutes. Stir in corn and beans; cook 5 to 10 minutes or until slightly thickened. Garnish with cheese and sour cream as desired.

Note: if chili becomes too thick, add extra broth or water to desired consistency.

Before I get to the glorious fatty concoction that was this morning’s breakfast, I’d like to state for the record that I hate doing Yoga on Saturday mornings.

Admittedly, Saturday morning’s yoga is an intermediate workout about thirty minutes in length—as compared to the hour-long workout I do during the week—so it’s not like it takes up a lot of my time in the morning. I think I routinely bitch about it because I am usually sore from the rest of the five days of exercise fun. (Sunday is the only day where I don’t work out.)  Of course, the keeping fit means I can make things like decadent French toast or go out for equally decadent breakfasts on weekends. Most times the LSC makes us our weekend brekkies but I asked if I could, considering I found a recipe I wanted to test-drive. And considering most of his time this morning was taken up by the new emergency of our freezer, I think he’s glad he let me.

I found this to be a very fragrant version of French toast. It is cooked in the oven not a skillet but I can’t see what harm it would do if you tried that. I didn’t have time to toast the almonds and therefore, I didn’t think it would matter much either way. But I was wrong! The LSC noted that toasting the nuts would have added a really nice flavor to the party. I think the only thing I would have changed is omitting the chocolate chips. It felt like gilding the lily to me and frankly, I’ve never really gone in for such frippery on my French toast anyway. Regardless, I love the crisp-custardy of a good French toast and this recipe did the trick.

Almond-Chocolate  Baked French Toast

1 16 oz. unsliced loaf bread (sourdough, Italian, or brioche if you can find it)

1 1/2 cups 1 percent milk

3 eggs

1/4 cup sugar

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. nutmeg

1/2 tsp. orange zest (orange part only)

1/3 cup chocolate chips, roughly chopped

1/2 cup toasted sliced almonds

Heat oven to 400 degrees. Coat a large baking sheet with nonstick foil. With a serrated knife, cut bread into 1-inch-thick slices. Remove crusts (I didn’t do this as I don’t mind them on French toast).  Cut each slice in half on a slight diagonal. Cut each piece into a triangle shape. In a medium bowl, whisk together milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and zest. Dip both sides of bread into milk mixture; place on prepared baking sheet. Spoon some of the remaining milk mixture over bread and sprinkle with chocolate pieces. Bake 15 to 20 minutes or until golden. Top with almonds and serve warm.

Some days I don’t want to do the fancypants cooking. Some days I don’t even want to do the pared-down somewhat more simplistic cooking. Heck, some days I just want to make it as easy as possible on myself.

Yesterday I decided that the LSC and I would have a Kiddie Night (thanks for the coinage from Caitlin Kiernan!). I would cook something that was so stupidly basic and child-like that there would be no question of where my heart lay that day. For a main course, I made pizza burgers (using ground turkey, obviously); yummy messy things on toasted English muffins with melted cheese. I totally forgot to take pictures though.

For dessert, I made a homemade hot fudge sauce that I found in my Collection of Hobo Recipes. I can’t remember the last time I had a hot fudge sundae and I’m betting dollars to doughnuts you don’t either. Being an adult is no fun if we can’t indulge ourselves like children from time to time. Oh, and the recipe calls for two tablespoons of corn syrup but considering I had leftover semi-sweet chocolate instead of the unsweetened chocolate the recipe called for, I scaled back the corn syrup by a tablespoon to counter potential oversweetness.

Bowls of fudgy berry goodness in hand, my honey and I settled down to the second part of Kiddie Night, watching the last two episodes of The Middleman. Damn, we love that show.

Hot Fudge Sauce

adapted from “Maida Heatter’s Book of Great Desserts” by Maida Heatter (Alfred A. Knof, 1974)

2 oz. unsweetened chocolate, in pieces

1 tbl. butter, preferably salted (I used unsalted and added a pinch of salt to balance it out)

2 tbl. light corn syrup

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. vanilla extract

Place chocolate, butter and 1/3 cup of boiling water in a heavy 2-quart saucepan over very low heat. Stir until chocolate melts and mixture is smooth. Stir in corn syrup and sugar.

Increase heat to medium and stir occasionally until mixture comes to a full boil. Stop stirring and allow mixture to boil exactly 8 minutes. Meanwhile, half-fill a bowl that is larger than the saucepan with ice and water. After 8 minutes remove pan from heat and place in ice water to stop cooking. Stir in vanilla.

Serve while still warm, or allow to cool, then reheat over hot water or for about 30 seconds in a microwave oven. Sauce must be served warm.

The LSC and I spent our holiday weekend in the city and oh boy, was it totally worth it.

Admittedly, the weather didn’t play fair with us: serious driving rain and wind on Saturday then just windy and cold on Sunday. Despite the fact I obsessively check the weather wherever I go, and yes, I was well-aware that it was supposed to rain on Saturday, guess who forgot to pack umbrellas? ANYway, once we checked into the Hotel Lord Berri—imagine what a hotel room looks like, any one will do, and you will have pretty much seen what our room looked like—we decided to go explore. On the way to my girlie-glee mecca, Lush, we popped into a newsstand and purchased the cheapest umbrellas money could buy. In fact, they were so cheap that mine didn’t last the day. One good gust of wind and it turned it inside-out, ruining it.

I must say that even though I have spent the past nine years in a city, there are always things which set them apart from others. (Duh!) Montreal definitely has the feel of an European city. Walking up Rue St-Denis, even in the rain, with all the boutiques and shops, cozy restaurants, glittery and shiny pubs, was unlike anywhere I have been thus far. And though we were armed with our cheap umbrellas, before we could get too far, the LSC was insistent on stopping somewhere to get dry and get a drink. I couldn’t blame him; we looked like drowned rats. I don’t recall the name of where we stopped to grab a pint and peruse the Mirror but I do recall that it was fancier than where I like to do my drinking. Never mind, really, as that pint really hit the spot.

After dropping a pretty penny at Lush (thanks, sweetie!), we were going to meet the LSC’s friend, Max, for dinner or coffee and dessert. Unfortunately, Max couldn’t make it out but he did recommend a dining destination for us: Pho Bang New York, a Vietnamese joint in Chinatown. I adore Asian food even though I have to admit a lesser fondness for Westernized Chinese. Vietnamese is still the tops in my book.

I like Chinatowns. I like the commingled sense of the recognizable and the utterly foreign. There is something reassuring about seeing the slash of Asian languages across banners, glass windows, scrawled on walls. Anywhere in Chinatown smells good. You could almost eat the air, perfumed with grilled meats, strange spices and sugar.

Once we got to Pho Bang, we were served a steaming pot of white tea—really lovely after a drizzly day—and ordered Imperial rolls, tightly wrapped cigars filled with minced pork and veggies.

Pho Bang was a clean little jewel of a place: lots of white tile, communal seating at long tables,  and for the LSC’s confirmation, a clutch of police busily slurping down crazy-huge bowls of pho. He maintains that the police know where all the best eats are but I’ve never really thought about it. I suppose it must be true.

After flipping through the photo-tastic menu, the LSC decided on grilled pork over rice. He was leaning towards a dish which would have served a variety of meats plus the rice, but he showed some restraint. Now that I think about it, I am really surprised that he didn’t order pho; I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard of him ordering pho.

Because I am pure class, I kept trying not to make Big Trouble in Little China jokes. Of course, I properly shut up when our table was shared by a gaggle of Asian youth, most of whom looked half-preppy, half-gangster. I was thinking of those jokes though. It’s a wonder that the LSC puts up with me most times.

Now my husband and I both have benchmarks in our shared love of Asian cuisine. His is Pad Thai; whenever he goes to any Thai restaurant, he invariably orders it and claims he’s never had it taste the same way twice. Knowing that aggravated me and when I took him to eat Thai, I told him not to order it because he always gets it but I think I can let it slide now. As for me, I judge Vietnamese places by their grilled chicken with lemongrass rice; this particular version was quite good and outshined the pork dish, I was told by the LSC.

After dinner, we wandered around Chinatown, stopped in a bakery and purchased the following goodies:

* Taiwanese cream pastry

* giant Asian-rice krispie

* red bean paste bun

* sponge cake filled with cream

* a super-light almond popover

Bag of goodies in hand, we walked around Le Village, popping into the occasional store and then had a beer at Le Cheval Blanc.

The next morning we braved the windy cold to walk up to another Max-recommended eatery: Le Grille Pain (translation: The Toaster). On the way we grabbed a newspaper because there is nothing like a leisurely breakfast with coffee and news.

Breakfast was quite good; I had an unbelievably fresh glass of apple juice (visible a pic or two up) that made us wonder if they didn’t have a juicer in the back. My omelette was yummy, but being a cheese-fiend, I would have liked a more-pronounced cheddar in it.

We spent the remainder of the day continuing to explore, trying not to be too chilly. Montreal is lovely and seemingly immense; I find the juxtaposition of the modern and the Old-World pleasantly jostling. That evening we took the Metro up to NDG and had dinner with Matt’s uncle and aunt, his cousins and their respective partners and children.

Much wine and champagne was consumed, as was good food, and we returned that late that evening, sleepy but content.

Because you are reading my food blog, it is not very shocking that I adore food. The cooking of it, the reading about it, the learning, and of course, food stores!! On our way home, the LSC took me to the Atwater Market. This is the kind of place where I could easily spend a fortune. But before the LSC could let me turn loose with the savoring and looking, we had coffee and pastries. A cup of decaf and a banana-caramel muffin for me; a cup of regular joe and a chocolate croissant for him.

Oh, Atwater Market! If I lived in Montreal, I would spend weekends there, browsing amongst the boulangerie, the fromageries, the butchers and fishmongers! Selecting the fresher-than-fresh veggies, buying pots of herbs to plant in my own garden. It truly did remind me of the French Market, only a wider variety and nowhere near as many tchotchkes everywhere. The LSC and I purchased the following: a freshly made baguette, a loaf of olive bread (my favorite!), three kinds of cheeses, smoked almonds, wasabi peanuts, praline pecans, and a small box of artisanal chocolates. I was going to buy some veggies too, but we didn’t have proper storage to take them home. Next time, though, we will be ready.

*note for non-French speakers, a boulangerie is a bakery, a fromagerie is a cheese shop.

I can’t remember where we read it—I think it was in a free weekly that was in the hotel lobby—but we stopped at the Fete du Chocolat in Bromont, a teeny town fifty minutes of Montreal, towards home. Initially I was reluctant because while there were crowds of people on the sidewalk, I didn’t see anything that really resembled a festival. But having married a man who is persistent, we discovered the delights of the Fete du Chocolat. Six dollars and a ticket in the form of a chocolate bar and you sampled local and regional chocolatiers and other peddlars of artisanal foods.

My highlight: trying sharp cheddar dipped in a chocolate fountain; it sounds crazy, but it works! My lowlight: the raspberry chocolate macaron; I didn’t hate it, it just wasn’t what I was expecting. The LSC’s highlight was also the cheddar/chocolate combo and he also agreed with the macaron. We both agreed that perhaps if we tried a different flavor, we’d be more impressed. And of course, here’s the list of our purchases:

* three bottles of handmade maple-syrup-based vinaigrette: we got two bottle of the Dijon mustard kind and one of port.

* Two bags of flavored almonds: citrus lemon and ginger (those are two separate flavors, by the way)

* two jars of local mustard: a maple one and a almond/white wine one

* a bottle of beautiful-tasting very very very small batch of extra virgin olive oil (the proprietor owns his olive farm in Morocco)

But at long last, there was nothing better than getting home to our anxious cats, our quasi-tidy house, and making ourselves a snack with a glass of wine.

For dinner last night, we put together a lax variation on chicken satay (it’s that paste you see in the bowl above the chicken) and coconut-almond rice. It’s not a recipe, really, but you can find the recipe I used for the rice here. We had a really lovely holiday weekend and I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I enjoyed writing about it.

As you may have guessed, living in Canada is a whole new ballgame to me. Especially French-Canada. I can read enough French to function, but can’t speak a lick of it except for basic pleasantries and I can’t understand when people speak it to me. Sometimes this makes me feel rather sheltered and in so feeling, I tend to retreat.

But there are only so many times you can sit at your laptop and catch up on episodes of Supernatural, pacing around the house, looking longingly at the cityscape spread out below. There are times when your husband emails you to meet him at a local gastropub—the St. Malo, for the terribly curious—for a beer or two. You initially say no, thinking you’re not up to it, and then you say yes, because while Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are horribly handsomely distracting, you probably need to get out of the house. And frankly, you’ve never been one to turn down a beer on a patio on a rare warmish day.

We sat outside and had a couple of delicious high-gravity Belgian beers, served to us in these glasses I rather like. The patio of St. Malo is terribly nondescript but the interior of the bar is lovely and I could easily imagine passing drunken afternoons with friends here.

The LSC ordered us a couple of small plates to nosh on whilst we sipped our beverages. I apologize for the starkness of the plate in the background but we devoured that nosh like a pair of starving jackals.

In the foreground is a small clay bowl of frites, served with an odd spicy mayo. The Plate of No Return had a thin slice of hot brie, a mound of sundried tomato pesto, a stack of apples and a small sliced baguette.

It was all very enjoyable and I would not hesitate to order anything on the menu. Something about hot brie and apples really got my engine running.

I felt kind of raggedy yesterday, good only for reading on the couch and watching the wind whip through the trees in the backyard. Thank goodness I decided to make a simple pasta dish for dinner. My brain functions were of the skill that anything more taxing and I might have lost it.

I’d also like to add that living in this region affords us access to many many boulangeries so that means I can indulge in my love of real honest-t0-goodness baked breads.

Anyway, so the dish I prepared last night called for fettuccine but the only kind we had in the pantry was citrus & pepper; I didn’t think that would be a good fit for what I had planned so I opted to used odds’n'ends of small pasta instead. I like doing that with pasta dishes, using up what may be wasted. Honestly, I think the smaller pasta worked much better than the unruly long kind.

Caramelized Onions with Red Peppers and Balsamic Vinegar over Fettuccine

adapted from “Robin to the Rescue”, Robin Miller, The Taunton Press

12 oz. spinach or regular fettuccine

1 tbl. olive oil

1 medium onion, halved and sliced

2 tbl. sugar

1 cup sliced drained roasted red peppers (jar)

2 tbl. balsamic vinegar

1 cup fat-free chicken broth

salt and pepper to taste

Cook pasta according to directions; drain. Meanwhile, heat oil in a large nonstick skillet on medium. Add onions and sugar and cook 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally until onions are gold and caramelized. Stir in red peppers and vinegar and cook 2 minutes. Add broth and pasta; simmer 2 minutes or until heated through. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

And I’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I’m listening to Richard Branson—whom I actually kinda think is cool—elaborate on a three-day fast for Darfur from his own freaking private island in the Caribbean. I’m thinking, “Uh…what? Three days of no food and suddenly you’ve done something important for humanity, dude?”

Never mind. I’ll not let this blog become a soapbox but I will say it is annoying. Donate tons of your money to aid or something, but three days fasting is not quite the humanitarian gesture you’d like to be. Moving on…

This week’s batch of granola included pine nuts and cashews. I used a little more maple syrup this time, plus I added some vanilla extract and a little cinnamon for variation and depth.

This week was the last of my brownie recipes/experiments (for the forseeable future). It didn’t require the use of a stand mixer, the excessive use of butter, so putting it together was easy.

Unfortunately, I reversed oven usage for the granola and the brownies. The granola went on the low rack—thus taking longer to bake—and the brownie went on a later higher rack thus—you guessed it—FREAKING BURNING.

They weren’t as burnt as the first batch a couple of weeks ago, but still I was disappointed. At least out of three,  I got one of them right, yeah? The LSC said he liked the middle batch best of all but these had a chewiness gooeyness that he really liked despite their glaring flaws.

New Classic Brownies

adapted from “Alice Medrich’s Cookies And Brownies” (Warner Books, 1999)

8 tbl. unsalted butter

4 oz. unsweetened chocolate

1 1/4 cups sugar

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1/4 tsp. salt

2 eggs

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

2/3 cup lightly toasted walnuts or pecans (optional)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line an 8-inch-square metal baking pan with foil. In top of a double boiler set over barely simmering water, or on low power in a microwave, melt butter and chocolate together. Stir often, and remove from heat when a few lumps remain. Stir until smooth.

Stir in sugar, vanilla and salt. Stir in eggs one at a time, followed by flour. Stir until very smooth, about 1 minute, until mixture pulls away from sides of bowl. Add nuts, if using. Scrape batter into prepared pan and bake 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare a water bath: Pour ice water into a large roasting pan or kitchen sink to a depth of about 1 inch. Remove pan from oven and place in water bath, being careful not to splash water on brownies. Let cool completely, then lift out and cut into 1-inch squares or wrap in foil.

As a treat for last night’s dinner, I made Orangette’s Caramelized Cauliflower in addition to the Chicken Paprika.

According to nutritionists, the serving size of a piece of chicken—or any meat, really—should be equal to a playing card. So, instead of using a large piece of chicken apiece for the LSC and I, I just used two. I had the LSC pound them out as they were required to be and then split them in twain.

Admittedly I didn’t have any nice warm bread to mop the tomato-ey  sauce, but I felt it was pretty good. The LSC felt the cauliflower outshined the chicken but I think the complements worked fairly well. I wouldn’t place this recipe in my immediate Go-To file but it made for a nice dinner nonetheless.

Chicken Paprika

4 (4- to 5-oz.) boneless, skinless chicken breasts

2 1/2 tsp. paprika, divided

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/8 tsp. ground black pepper

1 tbl. olive oil

1 cup chopped onion

1 (14 1/2-oz) can no-salt-added undrained diced tomatoes

1/3 cup coffee creamer or light cream

chopped parsley for garnish

Flatten chicken between 2 pieces of wax paper until an even thickness (1/2 inch). Season with 1/2 tsp. paprika and the salt and pepper. Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet on medium-high. Add chicken; cook 3 minutes per side or until browned. Remove from skillet; cover to keep warm. Add onion to skillet; cook and stir 4 minutes. Stir in tomatoes and remaining paprika. Bring to boil. Return chicken to skillet. Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer 8 to 10 minutes or until chicken is cooked through. Stir in cream until well-blended. Garnish with parsley as desired.

There are moments when I realize that I am, in fact, married, that I am no longer dating. Usually it’s something astounding: falling asleep next to the same person, waking up with the same person, the ring on my finger. Other times it’s remembering that I don’t cook for just me or the occasional dinner party with friends anymore; that my food budget is no longer my food budget but our food budget. I’m used to seeing leftovers in the fridge for more than one day; I’m used to picking at them for a few days at least, or until I think the smell coming from the container is NOT supposed to smell like that.

But I wouldn’t trade singledom for marriage. No sir, not when you can have leisurely Sunday breakfasts with the one you love.

Yesterday morning was unseasonably cold and drizzly—mind you, as a Southerner, I’m currently finding all weather here unseasonable—so a nice warm breakfast seemed in order. I made the sauteed apples, using this recipe as a basis.

The LSC made an egg scramble with leftover chopped chicken and provolone cheese. I had omelets in mind but it turns out I’ll have to teach my honey how to make one.

With orange juice in champagne flutes (no actual champagne, alas), espresso for him and French-press coffee for me, we enjoyed a lovely meal. Sometimes I like brunches/breakfasts like this instead of in cafes. But mostly, I just like having them with him.

On another note, I finally got to break out a crockpot recipe this weekend!

I know, I know, it sounds very sad and small in the scheme of things, but I have had this whole passel of recipes that required the use of a slow cooker forever. In any case, an attempt to make a veggie curry was totally spot on and completely worth it. It was just spicy enough, filling, warm and perfect to combat yesterday’s shite weather.

Let’s see…the original recipe called for butternut squash, but it’s slightly out of season here and the LSC and I aren’t exactly huge fans of it. I subbed another squash we do like—zucchini—instead. I used a little more curry paste for a little more heat but you do as you like.

Vegetable Curry

1 large chopped onion

1 1/2 lbs. Yukon gold potatoes, quartered

4 cups butternut squash, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces

4 cups cauliflower florets

1 15-oz. can rinsed chickpeas

1 medium red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 14-oz.can light coconut milk

1/4 cup flour

2 to 3 tsp. red curry paste (I actually used a biryani curry paste)

1 cup frozen green peas

fat-free sour cream for garnish (I used fat-free plain yogurt)

chopped fresh cilantro for garnish

In a 4-quart or larger slow cooker, place onion, potatoes, squash, cauliflower, chickpeas and bell pepper; mix well. In a medium bowl, whisk together the coconut milk, flour and curry paste. Pour over vegetables. Cover and cook on low 6 to 7 hours or until vegetables are tender. Stir in peas; cover and let stand 5 minutes. Garnish with sour cream and cilantro.