Our garden salads are not for the faint of heart. In attempt to year-round from the garden, our nightly salads looks something like this: mixed lettuce, arugula, chard, kale, wild fennel, and leafy dandelions. We almost weedwacked our luscious patch of dandelions, but kept them to feed the rabbit. Then, we decided to try them ourselves. They're super nutritious, hardy, abundant, and of course an acquired taste. Sebastian ate a heaping plate of this salad tonight with no complaints. The consensus is in: dandelion greens taste like.... dandelions. 

November and the farms stands are still full. I wasn't sure what to expect, this being our first winter here where we are really dedicated to supporting local business and buying local organics. Our garden is minimal. We had our first frost here two nights ago, and some tiny cilantro plants and the arugula were left uncovered. We have a meagre crop in the "hot house" but really, it's not much. How quickly crop vanishes. But the kale and chard will have no problems (except for the slugs) and the garlic is in the ground for next summer. But the farms offer all the minimals of winter: eggs, cured onion, potatoes, herbs, leeks, beets, turnips, carrots, dark greens and so many beautiful squash. Also, the best pickles ever. Occasionally a treat surfaces, like ground cherries (in November?!). We can have a meal night after night with dried stores and these offerings. This is the first time in my life where I've understood how to sustain mostly off local food. We still rely on grains, four, oatmeal, cheese galore, and the occasion non-local meat, but if you can pair this with most anything from the farms you have legitimate meal day after day. From the goods in the picture above we got: potato and leek quiche, roasted root vegetables with kale chips, and sweet pumpkin pie. Not bad, really. More on this later.

Sebastian's imagination is roaming these days. He talks about impossibles that quickly become truths around the house. For example, Sebastian and Poppy go to work together in their "car-car" and we have to bid them farewell. This usually happens on Sunday, the one day of solid family time for us. I say, "Hey Sebi, neither Mama or Papa have to go to work today!" and he replies, with a serious look, that he in fact is heading off with Poppy. Fair enough. He also works with Shed staff in various awesome places, such as "sky!" or "in a boat!" At first some Mom-guilt set in about his boundless imagination settling on the mundane, work of all things, but I quickly realized it's a form of mimicking and relating, and it's fine. 

Work is a big topic around here, though, especially this summer. When I'm not down at the taco stand on the weekend, Sebastian often has to endure my long phone conversations about Shed logistics, stock orders, or run out with me mid-day when I'm not supposed to be working. There are other sorts of work, too, of course. Laundry, cooking, gardening, cleaning and so on. And emails to UBC, bouts of editing and reading for my freelance stuff. Alex is working four days a week on Keats as well, and throughout the day Sebi often checks in with me to makes sure that Papa is in fact at work. 

He doesn't ever seem frustrated about all this work, although the transition back into the summer schedule made him clingy for a couple of weeks. We make sure to lay as low as possible whenever we can. Most days we play in the garden or go for walks. I like to think it keeps us sane. 

us, last fish tacos of the season

and the rain begins...

in the yard

cooking is the new `gardening`

always with the cheesy santa nightlight... 

Rainy weather doesn't usually get me down. You can't think that way when you live in a rain forest. But it's been grey and rainy for weeks now. I mean, come on July. I swear I spotted some mould in the densest garden plot the other day. Weird insects are breeding in the calendular and cabbage; I'm a little squeamish every time I got out there. The cherries are rotting on the tree. How do farmers do it? How do they just fret at the window watching their survival means disintegrate in flood, drought, infestation? Anyhow, between our amateur garden and my mother's impressive permaculture set-up we're still getting a decent yield. Last night we ate peas, potatoes, kale, rosemary and radishes from the garden. We've been enjoying the handfuls of cherries off the tree that we can actually reach and are taking advantage of the neighbourhood farms' successes as well. Right now the sun is making a fair effort above heavy low-lying rain clouds; outside we go for a bit of vit D.

cooking cooking cooking

tonight i made gnocchi from scratch with homemade almond pesto. in the last week or so i have made fresh barbeque sauce (twice), two types of soup, veggies burgers, french toast, apple sauce, muffins, whole wheat bread etc... why do i want to labour for hours over a brief meal between the baby's pre-bed crankiness, being sucked dry, tip-toeing out of the room, possibly having a cold plate waiting for me or a dry, overheated version of what i had cooked? i'm not sure. but every couple nights i do something fairly ambitious and generally i really enjoy myself. i have always liked cooking and valued a good homemade meal from pure ingredients, but it wasn't until a few months ago that i started to understand what it means to create a dish.
two friends of mine and my partner are all restaurant cooks in places that seem to value quality, creative, from-scratch cooking. although my partner has been a cook off and on in various places over the several years i've known him, it wasn't until he got into the kitchen at caffe mariani in saint henri where we live that his skills truly solidified. i think it started with soups. i never understood the importance of a rich soup stock before this.
i think the birth of sebastian has inspired me as well. our days are simple and usually slow, laid back. we need to get outside and walk, so we stroll to the market and pick up produce. i have time to consult the cook books, meditate on new dishes, concoct whatever i decide on. healthy eating has always been a priority in my life, but is especially so now because i am breast-feeding the little guy and want to make sure i'm giving him the best i can.
alex and i used to cook from scratch often when we lived in victoria. the city offers such an abundance of local, fresh and organic food from greens to bison. after we moved to montreal i felt uninspired by grocery stores' pitiful organic isles complete with styrofoam, plastic-wrapped vegetables. the one thing quebec has going for it is a lot of province-grown food; for that i've been grateful. we're fairly frugal people and have no qualms with spending extra time labouring over a meal to save money here and there.
my favourite cookbook these days is from rebar in victoria, b.c. it's an excellent restaurant and their cookbook is so widely owned and delicious. i've had it for years but only in the last few months have i really delved into the recipes. some of my favourites are the greek red lentil soup, the rebarbeque sauce, the carrot cake, and the peanut sauce. i think the trick to following through with home cooking is to have a huge collection of spices; the fresher the better. food tastes a hundred times better if you don't skimp on the herbs and spices.
a typical veggie janine soup stock:
in a big pot cook in oil carrots, onion, garlic, celery, whole pepper corn, sea salt, coriander seeds, whatever else you want. add a lot of water, apples, herbs etc... boil then simmer for as long as you can bear, about two or three hours. strain the solid, keep the juice. i have a bag in the freeze that i add veggie scrapes to as i cook for the days i make a big batch of stock. i freeze in glass containers and defrost it in the fridge when i'm ready to make a new batch.
now, to relax with some red wine and chocolate...