I went into the office the other day with my shirt on backwards.  It was a simple, knit pullover – so ordinarily, this might be understandable. However, it was a maternity pullover.  So we’re talking heavy runching and gathering, with an excess of fabric where the belly goes. How do you get that wrong?

I noticed the boo-boo when I went to the washroom a couple of hours into my day and, upon doing the standard how-does-my-butt-look-in-these-pants backwards glance in the mirror on my way out the door, I noticed that the back of my shirt looked like a giant deflated balloon.  Very attractive.

I fixed it, and carried on with my day.  It was only when I got home and changed that I noticed a smear of peanut butter on the actual back of the shirt.  My powers of deduction tell me that while I had it on the wrong way, I got my breakfast all over myself, didn’t notice, switched my shirt around, and spent the remainder of the day with peanut butter between my shoulder blades. This is when I to bed where I was safe and sound, with a bowl of avocado frozen yogurt and season one of LOST.

Lesson learned: two brains in your body does not offer the guaranteed mental prowess I’d hoped it would, even when you just know your kid’s gonna be a genius.  

With the limited mental resources I am experiencing, I find myself leaning heavily on super-convenient, fast meals. Especially at lunch.

I am not a big leftovers person.  I eat something once, really enjoy it, and move on! I don’t want to see last night’s salmon on my plate again the next day. I’m okay with it only if it’s reincarnated as something different. Which is why I love minced sandwich fillings! Continue Reading »

I love the flavours of Thailand – ginger, chili, garlic, lemongrass, lime – and the perfect balance of sweet-salty-sour-hot that winds its way through the nation’s cuisine, singing perfect high notes on your tastebuds.

These meatballs are packed with all those bright flavours. They’re perfect for a party, with this sticky sweet chili sauce as their escort. You could spear them with toothpicks, or do like I did and serve them with torn lettuce leaves and cucumber slices. It’s messy, but fun. Continue Reading »

Hubby had a boys’ night this past weekend. Which means I got booted out so a bunch of guys could light absinthe on fire and talk about man-stuff. I have no idea what that stuff is exactly. What do men talk about when their female counterparts aren’t around? I think I’d rather not know…

One thing I do know, however, is that wings are man food. I’ve witnessed enough males trying to one-up each other on Wednesday Wing Night at such-and-such pub to know this is fact.

That doesn’t mean ladies don’t love them, too. We just do so with a touch more restraint, I think. Continue Reading »

Have I mentioned my intense pregnancy potato cravings? Fried potatoes, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, buttered boiled potatoes, potato chips, hash browns… really, I want all the potatoes in the world – in every delicious incarnation – on a plate in front of me right now, please and thank you.

Hence the yam fries and sweet potato soup swiftly followed up with creamy potato soup.

I think the craving may have something to do with our little spud being conceived on Prince Edward Island (the province is famous for them – when I was a kid, PEI schools actually closed for potato harvest…)

This was actually our wedding song and first dance. (I should probably regret revealing that! Ha!) But really, it’s no wonder that’s all I want to eat, right? Continue Reading »

My grandma had a serious sweet tooth – or “sweet toot,” she’d say with her endearing whisper of a French accent. My mother’s mother’s maiden name was Dion. Her father anglicized it to “DiYoung” in the days when being Acadian inferred inferiority. She was one of eighteen children born to a French-Catholic family, and she was a wonderful grandmother.

I’ll always remember the way grandma would use a small spoon to firmly pack my ice cream into the very bottom of the cone. It made no difference to me that the ice cream was freezer burnt, the flavour was Grape Nuts and the cone was stale. All my knotty-haired elementary-school self tasted was love.

In her later years, grandma was half-deaf and sometimes confused. My grandpa kept a pet cockatiel who was notorious for escaping the confines of its cage. One day, my grandma was in the kitchen satisfying her “sweet toot” when Chicklet escaped. Continue Reading »

Happy New Year! (A few days late.)

I’d say I’ve been recovering, but there’s not much recovering to be done from a lazy, relaxing, snowed-in holiday – one in which your mom does all the cooking, and you do all the napping.

Still, I think a 4 hour time difference and 13 hours of travel (including airport layovers and mechanical delays…) warrant a bit of recuperation in the form of sleep-ins and blog neglect.

I’m not one for resolutions. I am pretty steady person. I do, however, crave a hefty influx of vegetables as I get back into my normal cooking routine after a month of holiday gatherings, surprise birthday parties, baby showers and Christmas feasts. Continue Reading »

I’m presently on the East coast with my family. I’m so happy to be here. The first morning (well, afternoon, let’s be honest…) when I woke up, I just walked around the house clapping and squealing at all the Christmasy things.

I skipped Christmas last year and forgot how much I love it.
Continue Reading »

I remember my little-kid eyes lighting up when my great aunt Ruth – her feet warm and cozy in hand-knit slippers, white hair gleaming in perfect soft waves atop her bobbly cherub face – would shuffle out of her kitchen with a plate of Christmas cookies.

There would be little shortbread coins topped with a rosebud of pink frosting and a sliver of candied cherry; sugar cookies imperfectly decorated as Santas and Christmas trees; chewy chocolate macaroons; mocha balls (which are pronounced mah-ka balls and have absolutely no chocolate-coffee flavour as their name suggests – they are simply squares of pound cake dipped in vanilla icing and rolled in crushed peanuts. An Acadian specialty).

The best thing on the plate, however, was the nanaimo bar. I would grab one, close my eyes and succumb to the holiday sugar rush bliss.

Then when it was gone, I’d lick my fingers and greedily eyeball another.

And to this day, nanaimo bars are my Christmas favourite. If you’ve had one, there’s a good chance you agree.

If you haven’t had one… oooh boy, you’re in for a treat. Continue Reading »

This year I did almost all of my Christmas shopping online. I usually love meandering the streets when they’re bustling with people, especially in the evening when the Christmas lights are on and holiday music is wafting from the shops.

But this year I got a late start (pesky all-day sickness), then I went and sprained my ankle. Suddenly it was the end of the first week of December, and all I had purchased was a jar of pickles (which might be a lousy gift anyway…).

Limping through the throngs, while sweating under pressure, is not the Christmas shopping experience I covet.

HELLO, Amazon!

If you’re like me and got a late start, I thought perhaps you’d appreciate some inspiration. Or perhaps you need to bulk up your own letter to Santa! Either way, here are 15 of my favourite kitchen goodies (ones that I already own – so they’re tested & true!) that would make fantastic gifts. And they have totally reasonable price tags. Please add to the list in the comments if you’ve got a great idea I’ve missed!!
Continue Reading »

Things are changing for me. Two weeks ago I was feeling sick all day every day, with gag-inducing aversions to everything from chicken to the smell of the dog. Now I am feeling sick only occasionally, with cravings of infuriating urgency for everything from clementines to peppermint fudge crackle ice cream.

I’m much happier this way.

Craving this week: pudding. Homemade. Silky, sweet, creamy, cold pudding. With an ample dollop of whipped cream.

And a tiny spoon.

I had the most lust-worthy butterscotch pudding at a restaurant in Vancouver (that shall not be named because they refused my ultra-polite request for a recipe in return for a fantastic review) but has since closed their doors (maybe if they’d let me review it!! …kidding).

Anyway, I’ve been dreaming of that pudding since the first luscious spoonful graced my lips.

But I re-created it, and my version is everything I wanted it to be… namely, luxurious.

The flavour foundation is a lush butterscotch sauce, which is made just like caramel but with brown sugar instead of white – simply dissolve sugar in a saucepan and cook, without stirring, until magic takes place; the sugars caramelize into a rich, complex sauce that is far greater than the sum of its parts. The butterscotch sauce is whisked into hot milk, and the pudding is thickened with cornstarch and egg yolks. A splash of whisky puts the “scotch” in butterscotch. Continue Reading »