OPA! My Big Fat Greek Weekend

"In many ways we are all sons and daughters of ancient Greece."
-- Nia Vardalos (author and star of the wonderful film 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding')


Over the past weekend the weather was quite a bit cooler than the incredible May-like temperatures we enjoyed last week here in London. Perhaps it was a gentle reminder from Mother Nature that it is, after all, still March - and this is Canada. But I didn't care. I spent the weekend in Greece. Well, sort of.

On Saturday, my partner, Mark, and I enjoyed a delightful evening celebrating the 60th birthday of a colleague from my work. About two dozen of us - coworkers plus partners - met a a wonderful restaurant in the heart of London. It is a Greek restaurant. But please do not spend even a second imagining the typical 'Greek restaurant' that is ubiquitous in small town Ontario. My first job, in fact, was as a waitress at the age of 16 in such a restaurant. And when I remember this brief, hideous experience, a lot of colourful adjectives come to mind. But none of them, I confess, would be 'Greek'.

Thankfully, this place is nothing like that. It is 'Mykonos', a charming island of exotic Greek cuisine in the city of London. 'Mykonos' started off as a humble fish and chip restaurant, opened about three decades ago by Greek immigrants Heidi and Bill Vamvalis. Heidi has become a very visible persona to their many loyal patrons. She embodies such a warm, magnetic personality and she radiates such positive energy as she navigates through the restaurant shining her considerable light on all the fortunate diners.

How can I describe the atmosphere at 'Mykonos'? It is quaint and interesting with an almost completely blue and white decor. As soon as you walk through the door you can feel yourself being transported from a spot midway between Lake Huron and Lake Erie over to the fabulous Mediterranean Sea. You feel as though you've stumbled upon a charming family restaurant on a delightful Greek island where, although you are a tourist, you are made to feel completely at home.

Upon our arrival, we mingled and chatted with the others - reconnecting with those familiar and introducing ourselves to those previously only heard about and imagined. Very soon the time came for all of us to become seated at our very long table and await the entrance of the clearly surprised (and apparently delighted) guest of honour and his lovely lady.

Very soon the table filled with platters of assorted appetizers: feta cheese, olives, roasted red pepper dip as well as the famous tzatzkiki, a fabulous and delicious spread made from butter or lima beans called 'gigantes', along with a dazzling mashed potato and garlic spread served along with sliced of fresh baguette and pita triangles. Delicious!

And as if that weren't enough, later on several servers suddenly appeared with plates of saganaki cheese which they very dramatically doused with shots of Ouzo and immediately set aflame. Wow! That cheese was astonishingly good. Heaven! Oh, my.

For my main course I enjoyed Spanakopita with a Greek salad. Creamy, tangy, spicy deliciousness. Just imagine two dozen entrees coming out one just barely behind the next. My goodness, these people have it all together. Whereas a few minutes before I had been listening to the cacophony of animated conversation, suddenly and swiftly there was close to a zen-like silence as everyone began to dedicate themselves to their main courses. The many full plates became starkly white again, and the various wine bottles and carafes stood empty, leaving the celebrants relaxed, fulfilled, and happy. What a night!

The evening was so much fun that upon our arrival home, Mark and I were inspired to watch the movie 'Shirley Valentine' for about the hundredth time. Always a sheer delight.

And it didn't end there. Our connection with the spirit of Greece was still palpable on Sunday. So I created a Greek-inspired menu and Mark and I went shopping. Later on, Mark and I and Devin (my daughter Eliza's friend) cooked up a tasty dinner: lemon/garlic/herb/almond chicken breasts and vegetarian 'chick'n breasts', roasted lemon-dill potato cubes with chopped red and green peppers, orange ginger carrots, cucumbers and tzatziki sauce along with pita triangles. Yum! This delicious dinner prompted me to remember all things Greek stored in my memory, and I was happy to succomb.

Two summers ago I was visited by both a long-time Israeli friend, Orly, and a new-found Chilean friend, Alejandra. We three went to the cinema together to see "Mamma Mia" and enjoyed it so much that we made a pact to focus on the dream of vacationing together in Greece. What a dream!

Well, a couple of months ago I received a voice message from Orly in Israel. In her thick Israeli accent she said, "Diana. We talked about meeting one each other in Greece and I wonder if you are still planning this trip?" Orly is such an optimist! I love it.

Still planning? No. Not exactly. But still dreaming?? Absolutely! And I sincerely hope this dream will come true. But until it does, there is always 'Mykonos'. It has long been, and remains, a vibrant touch of Greece in Southwestern Ontario. 'Efaristo (thank you), Mykonos!!' Efaristo, indeed.

Cheers!!

Diane



The recipe this week is for the wonderfully delicious appetizer, 'Gigantes'. Believe it or not, I heard several people say this was their favourite dish of all that night. Both the photo and recipe are courtesy of Food Network star, Rachel Ray.

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/rachael-ray/baked-gigantes-beans-recipe/index.html

The Wonderfully Wide World of Blogging

"Blogging is using a new medium for what it is good for - connecting and interacting."
- George Siemens


"We bloggers live for comments."
- Shelley Long (www.forestcityfashionista.blogspot.com)


Everything is energy. Everything. Even us. And we are fed by, and thrive on, the positive energy given out to the world by the natural world, animals, plants, and other people. That's what quantum physics tells us. But you don't have to be a quantum physicist to intuitively understand, and feel, how true this is.

We recently had the exciting experience of watching the Olympic athletes perform the most exquisite physical feats. What a thill! Over and over, the athletes were saying how great the energy was just being around the other athletes and their boisterous fans as well. It would have been amazing to have been there in person, but the positive energy was so intense that it could easily and strongly be felt by even the TV audience.

Of course, this phenomenon doesn't just pertain to athletes; it is a reality for all of us. And bloggers are no exception. We are generally people who love to write and who get a real kick out of it. But, really, just sitting at home writing about this and that without anyone to read one's words would be terribly unsatisfying. It is our readers who give us feedback - either in person, by email, or in the form of cherished 'comments'. And this positive feedback is one of the things that feeds our creative energy.

Ever since I started blogging, I have found it so rewarding to connect with my readers. In the beginning they consisted of my family, my close friends, and certain work colleagues. But as a stone tossed into a pond will cause a series of outgoing ripples, the circle has been constantly expanding. My family, friends, and colleagues began to share my blog with their families, friends, and colleagues. And then, two weeks ago I received my first comment from a total stranger, a woman from New Mexico, and that was such a surprise. And it just keeps getting better.

I hope all of you read (and enjoyed) my post last week on rutabagas. I was happy to see that it inspired all kinds of rutabaga conversations at work and amongst friends. My sister in BC contacted me to say she was about to make 'hot cross bun muffins' last weekend and when she glanced at the ingredients on the container of chopped glazed fruit, she was astonished to find that the first ingredient was, incredibly, chopped rutabaga. HA! She thought the Advanced Rutabaga Studies Institute (ARSI) would just love that.

I expect they would, indeed, but what I DO know is that they found out about my blog and took the time to send me a comment. And that was a very, very exciting moment for me. Here it is:

"Diane: You have a terrific blog -- I linked to your entry on rutabagas and made a comment (included here). Thanks for bringing the ARSI site to the attention of our local newspaper...
As Official Mouthpiece of the Advanced Rutabaga Studies Institute here in Forest Grove, it pains me to admit that I grew up in a New England family that mistakenly referred to rutabagas as "turnips". So you're totally forgiven, and your eloquence in praising this humble root vegetable makes up for all past sins. Also, please visit our blog (where I'll be adding a link to your page) at http://rutablogger.blogspot.com/ I look forward to having you join our celebrations during this historic year. -- Michael J. O'Brien, Forest Grove, Oregon"

I hope you will all check out this very interesting site where you can see my name and link, and also see the link to The Oregonian newspaper which initially ran the piece. How cool is that, my friends??

I can feel the palpable energy coming my way from all of those Oregonian rutabaga-loving folk. My goodness, how I would love to travel to Oregon and meet them all. And join in all of the festivities. And eat rutabagas!!

And if I were to meet them, I would also tell them that about 20 years ago there was an annual Rutabaga Festival in Blyth, a small village in Southwestern Ontario. Apparently it was a lot of fun, but the festival eventually folded due to a lack of volunteers. Sigh. I wish I had known! I would have volunteered. (http://www.northhuron.on.ca/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=417:rutabagas-and-blyth&catid=68:blyth&Itemid=87)

So, many thanks to Michael O'Brien of the Advanced Rutabaga Studies Institute for putting my name and my blog 'on the map' of Oregon. I feel both privileged and thoroughly delighted. And special thanks to all of my readers who have shared both their positive energy and their comments with me all this time. It's a great feeling! And I just never know when a new comment will 'turnip'. (Sorry, Michael!!)

Cheers!!!

Diane


PS: Unfortunately, this post does not come with a new recipe. So, just amuse yourselves by eating more rutabagas!


Instead of a photo this week, I have created a 'beautiful word cloud' through
"www.wordle.net" (TM) which was developed by Jonathan Feinberg.

Rutabaga! Rutabaga! Rah! Rah! Rah!

"So many people confuse rutabagas with turnips. They're not alike at all. Rutabagas have a pleasant yellow-orange color, large friendly-looking leaves, and a smooth dense texture. Turnips are fish-belly white and purple on top like a bad bruise and have hairy leaves and taste brackish, like swamp water. Rutabagas are the root crop that any sensible person would prefer."

---Garrison Keillor in "Prairie Home Companion" Radio Program



Wow! That's a whole lotta love for a common root vegetable. I bet not too many of you have ever felt such adoration for a rutabaga. Oh, I expect you've eaten your share of mashed rutabagas at any number of Thanksgiving dinners, but to most people the roast turkey is the star of the show whereas mashed rutabagas (even spruced up with melted butter, salt and pepper) remains an insignificant side dish.

But not to me! I have always loved rutabagas and was always excited to eat them at holiday dinners, even before I became vegetarian. I haven't eaten turkey for over 40 years now (although that figure is hard for me to believe!), but I have continued to relish the humble rutabaga.

The rutabaga is a cruciferous vegetable, believed to have evolved from a cross between a wild cabbage and a turnip. We know they existed in the 1600s in southern Europe, but because they grow so well in colder climates, they became extremely popular in Scandinavia - particularly in Sweden. This is why one of the early names for this vegetable was "swede'. They are called "neeps" in Scotland and I can remember my Granny telling us about one of her favourite dishes - "neeps and tatties" which was simply rutabagas and potatoes cooked and mashed together with butter, salt and pepper. They have often been called "turnips" as well, but (as we have learned) that is an egregious error.

It pains me to mention this (after reading the above quotation), but in our family we always called rutabagas 'turnips'. I didn't know any different. And even after I grew up and was in charge of my own grocery shopping, I continued to call them turnips even though the sign was clearly marked 'rutabagas'. I'm sure this piece of information wouldn't bother most of you at all. But it would no doubt seriously provoke the members of ARSI - The Advanced Rutabaga Studies Institute.

The ARSI is located in Forest Grove, Oregon, a town which has considered itself "The Rutabaga Capital of the World" since 1951. This will be an especially exciting year for the ARSI members as 2010 has been declared "The International Year of the Rutabaga." The good news is that it is only early March and we all have time to plan some appropriate activities to celebrate (as our friend, Garrison Keillor says) "America's most under-appreciated vegetable."

As I mentioned earlier, rutabagas were never under-appreciated by me. I tend to enjoy sharper tasting foods so was easily drawn to loving them. In fact, I preferred a dish of mashed rutabagas over the mashed potatoes! All my life I associated rutabagas with festive occasions and fun holidays because we never ate them at any other time.

I had an impression that their great expense was the reason they were reserved for only the most special dinners. Can you imagine my shock and surprise when, on my first grocery shopping trip, I saw a large bin of waxy rutabagas along with a sign saying, "15 cents each"? What??? How could this be?? It was clear that anyone could afford to eat rutabagas - every day if they liked. And I smiled to myself with the notion that I might do just that.

This notion lasted until, oh, when the time came to cook the rutabaga. I wasn't prepared for such a difficult task. I was a young and inexperienced cook, didn't have proper knives, and had no technique. I spent a good bit of time trying to chop away at the poor vegetable - hacking and sawing away like mad. After I got the thick waxy skin off and had sawed it into slices, it still had to be cut into cubes and boiled for a long time before mashing. Whew! It was then that I decided to forgive my mother for serving rutabagas only at festive meals.

Some of you will remember the sudden emergence of microwave ovens in the mid-eighties and all of the surrounding hoopla about how they were going to revolutionize cooking and baking and make our regular ovens obsolete. Well, quite clearly this did not happen and microwave oven cookery has been largely underwhelming. But when it comes to rutabaga preparation, the microwave is a brilliant device.

I was so excited when I learned this technique and I think it will make your rutabaga-eating life much easier. Simply hold your rutabaga firmly and stab it thoroughly on all sides with a fork. Then, wrap it up with several layers of paper towel - be generous. Put it on a plate, then pop it into the microwave for about 5 minutes, depending on the size of the vegetable and the power of your oven. It will be done when a sharp knife can pierce through the flesh with little resistance. Let it cool for a bit, then carefully peel off the paper towel. Now, it will be so easy to slide the thick skin off, to slice it, and chop it into cubes. Plus, it won't take as long to boil in a pot of salted water.

So there you are. You can enjoy delicious, nutritious (and inexpensive) rutabagas whenever you want and however you want. Here are some ideas from today's aficionado - Garrison Keillor: "Rutabaga - it's suitable for any occasion. Rutabagas' firm yet impetuous flavor goes well with Bordeaux, Chablis, or even Champagne. Use julienned rutabagas to clear the palate before dessert. Stir-fried rutabagas can bulk up any Chinese dish. Or how about rutabaga ratatouille? And instead of an olive in your Martini, why not try a rutabaga wedge?"

Well, perhaps some of you more adventurous souls may want to go to a bar and request a rutabaga wedge in your martini, but I expect it would be a small group. And since most of you have made, or at least eaten, plain mashed rutabagas with butter, salt and pepper, to give you such a recipe would be too boring.

And so, I've opted for the middle ground and today's recipe will be using rutabagas in a slightly adventurous, but also very cozy and comforting way. It is a "Rutabaga Spice Cake" and it may resemble the ubiquitous carrot cake in flavour, but it seems much less rich and sweet. And as you nibble on a piece of cake with your coffee or tea, or for dessert, you can tell yourself that you are eating your veggies and you will be able to just relax and enjoy. I hope you do!

Cheers!


Diane

"Rutabaga Spice Cake"

http://www.foodland.gov.on.ca/english/vegetables/rutabaga/recipes/rutabaga-spice-cake.html

Today's photo and recipe are courtesy of "Foodland Ontario" - Thanks!

The Maple Leaf (and Maple Syrup!) Forever!!

"I think there's going to be a lot of maple syrup in Vancouver.....it's got medal written all over it."

-- Craig Buntin

(Craig Buntin of Vancouver and his partner, Meagan Duhamel, were the silver medalists at the Canadian Figure Skating Championships in 2009.)



Craig Buntin uttered the above words back in 2006 and he couldn't have been more prophetic. What a fantastic couple of weeks it has been here in Canada!

What fun it has been to switch on the TV and always find some incredible Olympic event going on. Staggeringly brilliant performances across all events. Many were nail-biting experiences, many were breathtaking, many were heart-stopping and one in particular was heartbreaking.

I also really enjoyed the 'water cooler' conversation at work. I love it when there is such a common bond amongst people; it's such a great 'connector'. I especially noticed it today (Monday) when several times I found myself in an elevator or corridor or office with someone I did not know and it could have been an awkward situation. Not today, my friend, not today. All I had to say was, "Did you see The Game yesterday?" and the conversation was off and running. Sweet.

And speaking of sweet, what is sweeter to a Canadian than our very own maple syrup? Although my sisters in Saskatchewan and British Columbia have pointed out that they don't have maple trees (pity), I think they would have to agree that the maple tree and leaf and syrup are Canadian icons.

I know it's really springtime when our retired colleague, Ron, comes to campus with a box full of mason jars containing 'the real stuff' - maple syrup from his own maple bush. It is so wonderfully delicious and the supply is so limited that people are practically knocking each other over to lay claim to a jar. (Make sure I'm near the top of the list this year, OK, Ron?)

I remember so well a high school bus trip from Quebec City to a town further north when I was fifteen. Half-way to our goal the bus turned in to a quaint Quebecois farmhouse. It seemed rather odd to us at the time, until we realized these people ran a thriving business and were delighted to see us pull into their lane way.

My goodness, how I can still smell the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread which filled the country kitchen and swirled around us, pulling us in like a trawler's net. Big hearty slabs of soft, warm bread, the crusts perfectly chewy and slathered with golden hand-churned butter. Heaven! And as if that weren't a perfect treat for a band of hungry teens, there was hot maple syrup poured into trays of pure snow and rolled up with sticks into little morsels of maple ambrosia. Before we left the farmhouse, we had filled our pockets with a wide variety of maple candies in order to face the remainder of our journey with the security of a stash of sugar. HA. To be young again!

But, honestly, the young are always hungry but they are not always adventurous. I know this from experience. Back when my eldest son, Ben, was 13 his hockey team invited a Danish team over to Canada for some competition and camaraderie. We hosted two young men and it was really a great experience. Although it was often a challenge when it came to food.

One young fellow, who was staying with another family, became so excited when he realized that he could buy a case of 24 cans of Coke here in Canada for the same price as a 2 litre bottle back in Denmark, that he scooped one up and in his enthusiasm, he drank the entire case in one day! The poor lad had to be hospitalized because of the caffeine overdose, so it was probably a good thing that Coke was so expensive when he returned to Denmark.

"Our" boys didn't have any such traumas, although there were some funny incidents. I thought I was going to have to buy pickled herring for them as it is ubiquitous in Denmark, but fortunately for me, they despised it. Whew! They were also appalled at our Canadian cheese and refused to eat it. I never really understood why. I know I asked them, but maybe their English wasn't fluent enough, maybe they were just too young, or maybe they just weren't about to articulate their feelings in any language being 13-year old boys.

The most amusing thing I remember about these boys was the time I made them a very nice (if I do say so) Canadian breakfast of homemade pancakes and real maple syrup. I wanted so much to give them a taste of Canada - something that they wouldn't get in Denmark. I thought they would love them and gobble them right up. But, surprisingly, they would have none of it. They turned up their noses and crinkled their brows and, for whatever reason (who could know?) they refused to eat the pancakes. It's a mystery to me still. They didn't know what they were missing.

But, oh, we know. We know so well. Both as a decadent delight and as a metaphor. Craig Buntin couldn't have known how right he was in predicting that "there's going to be a lot of maple syrup in Vancouver", but he was right on the money. Our Canadian athletes surprised us, amazed us, delighted us, and thrilled us. Oh, yes, there was plenty of maple syrup at the 2010 Olympic Games in Vancouver. And we Canadians savoured every last drop.


Cheers!

Diane



Today's photo and recipe are courtesy of "allrecipes.com" - a great site featuring terrific recipes from A-Z. I have chosen, of course, a recipe that features maple syrup. I know you can all make pancakes and maple syrup, so this is a nice twist: "Sweet Potato Mash with Cinnamon and Maple Syrup". It's a nutritious and delicious dish and it's oh so Canadian. Way to go Canada!! Woo hoo!!!

http://allrecipes.com.au/recipe/7983/sweet-potato-mash-with-cinnamon---maple-syrup.aspx

True Grits!

"Corn provided infant America with a backbone while it was developing the use of its legs. America was growing, quite literally, up the cornstalk." Dorothy Giles

Many Canadians travel south in February and the U.S. is a popular destination. My partner (Mark) and my kids (Eliza and Daniel), and I decided to go "Stateside" as well, over the recent Family Day Weekend. Only we travelled due west instead - to Port Huron, Michigan.

It seemed amazing that after only a 90-minute drive we found ourselves crossing the Bluewater Bridge and arriving at the U.S. border. After arriving there so quickly, we had a 90-minute wait at the gate. I guess a lot of Ontarians had the same idea! It's pretty exciting to suddenly find yourself in another country after having simply crossed a bridge. The signage is all different, the shops are different, the money is different, and the food is different. And speaking of food, that is all we could think about, having had to wait so long for our breakfast.

For this first meal of the day we went where we always go when we visit Port Huron - The Daybreak Cafe. It is a very homey restaurant on the busy main street and it is always very busy inside, as well. They say you should always go where the locals go to dine and this is so true in this case. The place is bright and clean and airy, the service is quick and friendly, the prices are excellent, the portions are very generous and nicely presented, and (the best part of all) the food is delicious. Check out the menu:

http://www.menupix.com/menudirectory/menu_link.php?mxresto_id=1000249&url=http://www.menupix.com/menupdf/daybrkd832newmenu.pdf

You really know you have crossed the border when you read this entry on the breakfast menu: "Breakfast Feast - Hope you're hungry! Two eggs any style, meat and toast with potatoes or pancakes. Also includes biscuits and gravy which can fix any of your cravings." Wow!

After our fabulous breakfast we all waddled out of the restaurant to do a little (OK, a lot) of shopping. We went to a big grocery store to buy some "Quorn" products which is a line of vegetarian meat substitutes which have a very high reputation in Europe, but which are not allowed in Canada for some obscure bureaucratic reason. (http://www.quorn.us) This sounds like it may be made from corn, but it is not. But if you do want corn, you have come to the right place if you are in the U.S..

In the U.S. corn is the number one field crop, by far. And you can really see this in the supermarkets where there are oodles of corn products. Tortilla chips are more popular than potato chips, all manner of Mexican-inspired foods using corn are seen including corn breads and corn bread mixes with "Jiffy Corn Bread Mix" seeming to be the most popular. (http://www.jiffymix.com/)

A couple of years ago Donna, my very dear friend from Alabama, sent me a recipe for "Jiffy Corn Casserole" which is hugely popular in the South. I couldn't find it anywhere here in London but Mark was able to snag some up while in Michigan. I decided to make a Southern-themed dinner and I have to say this corn casserole was a hit. Very delicious! I must make it again soon as it is such a comforting dish on cold winter night.

One of the most favourite uses for corn in America, especially in the Southern States, is "grits". Grits are made from dried corn (or maize) kernals which have been soaked in a lye mixture to remove the hull and soften the inside of the kernal, then ground up to become "hominy grits". They are somewhat similar to polenta, but not as stiff. It is more like a sort of porridge. Wikipedia says, "Grits can be served hot or cold and as a base for a multitude of dishes from breakfast to dessert, depending on the additives. Additives can include salt and butter, meat (especially shrimp on the east and Gulf coasts), and rarely vegetables. It is common for people above the Mason-Dixon line to have sugar with their grits."

Being Canadian, I have, of course, had very limited exposure to grits. But I do have a funny memory associated with the above reference to Northern grit-eaters. A few years ago I was talking with my wonderful friend, Donna, and she just couldn't believe I had never even tried grits. She couldn't imagine such a thing, being an Alabama Southern Belle. So straightaway, she went out and bought me an enormous bag of grits! Then, she mailed it to me. It probably cost her ten times more to mail it than it did to buy it. I laughed when the package arrived. What a woman!

Well, I really didn't know how to prepare grits, so I read the instructions carefully. I decided that beginning by having them for breakfast would be the best way to go. After all, the photo on the package reminded me a lot of a thicker version of cream of wheat and I'd always liked that. I cooked up the grits, then tasted them and was surprised at the extreme lack of flavour. So, I fixed the problem by adding a nice bit of pure Canadian maple syrup. A bit of 'Great White North meets Dixie'. Later that day I emailed Donna to thank her and to tell her I'd had my first grit experience. She was very pleased that she'd been able to expand my culinary horizons. That is, until I told her about the maple syrup. She was shocked. "You're a YANKEE!!!!!" she exclaimed.

I think Donna has forgiven me for this Southern "faux pas" as we have remained very close friends. So, I think - as a tribute to my remarkable Alabama pal - my recipe this week will be for the "Jiffy Corn Casserole" instead of a dish containing grits. The recipe I've chosen is from Paula Deen, the queen of Southern cooking and whom you've no doubt seen on the Food Network. I hope you'll make it and enjoy it. Maybe invite some friends over and have a Southern menu. After all, wouldn't it be fine to bring a little Southern warmth and hospitality to our frosty Canadian days??

Cheers, y'all!!

Diane

This week's photo and recipe are courtesy of Paula Deen:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/paula-deen/corn-casserole-recipe/index.html

Memories of Peanut Butter

"Man cannot live by bread alone; he must have peanut butter."
James A. Garfield

One of my earliest memories involves eating peanut butter. In my very first posting I mentioned having always had a penchant for snacks, and right from the beginning, peanut butter was at the top of the list.

During the year that I was four years old I religiously followed a pre-lunchtime activity which involved tasty peanut butter sandwiches. And because I subsequently attended kindergarten in the afternoons only, I was able to carry on this tradition for the next year as well. In the good weather, anyway.

Most days I would enjoy the adventure of walking down to the corner to watch for my Dad who would be coming home for lunch. Because it seemed so far away to me, and the length of time was so hard to judge, apparently I was a little worried that starvation might set in before I could return home. So, my mother very kindly always made me a peanut butter sandwich - one slice of Wonder bread spread with peanut butter, then folded over, cut into two squares, and wrapped in wax paper. No Zip-Lock Baggies back then.

My Dad worked at the Sheaffer Pen Company and he always came home for lunch. Except, in those days we called lunch 'dinner' and dinner we called 'supper'. And lunch/dinner really was our dinner- it was the biggest meal of the day. We would always have some kind of meat, potatoes (boiled, baked, mashed, or scalloped), and a tinned vegetable such as peas, green beans, corn (or creamed corn), and sometimes beets.

Always potatoes. Never rice. Never pasta. Back then these dishes would have been way too exotic to have been considered. Although I do remember Mom getting a very cool 'potato ricer' once. Probably as a Christmas or birthday present, as Dad was big on the small appliances. It was a manually operated stainless steel gadget; you put peeled and boiled potatoes into the ricer then pulled down the handle and a flat paddle pushed the potato out through a multitude of small holes and into a serving bowl. And - voila! How exciting! You had the best of both worlds - you got to experience a new dish (eating rice for dinner) and also the deep seated comfort that came from really eating potatoes.

OK, so back to my pre-lunch tradition. Every warm and dry day I would head out about 11:30 and walk all the way from our house (at one end of our block) to the corner which was at the very far end of the block, to wait for my Dad. And when I say 'far', that is from my four year old self's perspective as the block consisted of about 7 small houses with a vacant lot in the middle of it. Although, it really did seem like quite a hike for me at the time.

And it wasn't without risk that I made this daily journey. The third house on the block had an extra door on the front whch had been boarded up for some reason and, naturally, we neighbourhood kids terrified ourselves by believing that a hideous witch lived behind that door. So I walked leisurely down the street each morning, observing what was going on around me, but sprinting madly past the 'witch house'.

It was always a thrill to get past that house, of course, but even better still because then came the vacant lot because quite often there were horses or ponies walking around, munching away on the long grass. You see, the house on the other (and safer!) side of the lot was owned by a man who kept and raced horses. It seems so strange now to imagine such a thing, but this was a small town in a rural area, and in the late fifties it seemed quite normal.

The next three houses had young children like myself so I had to allow for spontaneous play times. Because as long as the weather was good, children played outside. There were no 'play dates' or being driven hither and yon by parents. No way. Your only choice of friends was the kids on your own block - like them or not. And it does seem unusual now to imagine mothers urging very young children to 'go outside and play', but that is the way it was back then. We really had complete freedom to do whatever we wanted, as long as we didn't leave the neighbourhood. That was understood. We just went out, met up with the other kids, and then used our vivid imaginations to create fun games. It was an unwritten rule that we would report back home at meal times, and when the street lights came on in the evenings. But the rest of the day was ours.

And speaking of mealtimes, what great memories I have of those peanut butter sandwich fuelled morning adventures. At the end of the long and fascinating trek to the end of our block, I would sit down on the grass of the boulevard and open my little packet. I would sit there and quietly nibble away on my little sandwiches while staring down the street for the first sighting of my Dad. It always seemed to take so long! But, eventually, I would see his blue Studebaker swing onto the street. He would approach the corner slowly, always smiling and waving to me. Then he would stop the car and let me hop in, and drive us both back home for our hot 'dinner'.

Since then I have probably eaten about a million peanut butter sandwiches, either plain or toasted, or on a crusty roll. Or enjoyed peanut butter on crackers, in celery, in stir fries, in Pad Thais, or in cookies or various chocolate bars. And one very memorable time, back in the seventies, my friends - Joyce and Peter - entertained me on a warm summer day in their home by the beach. They had made a beautiful peanut butter cake from scratch and had served it quite generously along with a large pot of the most perfect, piping hot tea. Now, that was an experience to remember.

But I would have to say that my very best memory is of carrying those little packets of peanut butter sandwiches all the way to the corner, and of all those fun (and scary) adventures I had along the way.

Cheers!

Diane

Recipe for Peanut Butter Cake

Because I doubt you'd be very excited about duplicating my little sandwiches, I am giving you a recipe for a Peanut Butter Cake. I can't imagine that it could possibly equal Joyce and Peter's amazing cake, but it seems far less decadent and more in keeping with our current times. Personally, I am going to whip up this cake, along with a couple of handfuls of chocolate chips on top, and enjoy it with a nice, hot cup of tea.

http://www.dairygoodness.ca/recipes/peanut-butter-cake?Wt.srch=1&gclid=CIKeqduk5J8CFd4D5QodJUJFGg


(Both this week's photo and recipe are courtesy of "dairygoodness.ca". Thank you!)

Yo Quiero Taco Pizza!

"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza." -- Dave Barry


Feeling hungry for the taste of your favourite pizza? Well, you're in luck! Pizza just happens to be one of the most ubiquitous dishes around. No doubt there are several pizzerias nearby, but if not, there are countless varieties of frozen pizzas, packaged pizza mixes, and ready-made pizza dough if you are keen to make your own.

Almost everyone loves pizza. From guys watching sporting events, to teenagers hanging out on the weekend, to families settling in and relaxing with an easy meal on a Friday night. In fact, a recent study showed that children aged 3-11 preferred pizza by far over all other possible dinner choices. And what about the people who are lucky enough to have friends who will help them move? No need to even think about what to feed these generous friends. It's pizza and beer. Always.

Apparently the first pizzeria in the U.S. was opened in New York City over 100 years ago and it is, remarkably, still open for business today. (http://www.firstpizza.com/) But it was when American soldiers returned from WWII service in Italy, missing and craving the pizza they had enjoyed there, that pizza really took off in a big way. And its popularity has grown by leaps and bounds ever since.

But the 'pizza craze' took a little time to reach my very small home town of Goderich in Southwestern Ontario. I was nearly 10 when the first pizzeria opened there in 1964. It was called "The Pizza Patio" and I remember it well for two reasons: my elder sister, Lori (then 16), got her first job there, and I celebrated my 10th birthday by eating this new and exotic food. And I loved it! Absolutely loved it. My two friends, however, were not as adventurous and could hardly be persuaded to try it. My Dad had taken us there, to "The Pizza Patio", and he was quite disappointed that the girls were so mulish. After all, he was one of the very few people in our rural area to have ever tried pizza before.

Some years before, probably in the late 50's, my Dad and his brother-in-law had gone on a rare trip to the big city of Detroit, Michigan, to see a ballgame at Tiger Stadium. It was quite a big event for them and they had a great time. All the excitement of the day apparently gave them an appetite so they decided to dine at a local restaurant before heading home. This, again, was very unusual as eating in restaurants was very uncommon back then - at least for our family!

Well, Dad and Uncle Charlie got settled in and were looking around, checking the place out, when they noticed many signs and posters advertising the new rage in food dishes - "Pizza Pie from Italy!" The waitress strongly suggested it and touted its incredible popularity saying, "Everyone loves it!" She tried to describe pizza to these two Huron County men who had probably never eaten a meal in their lives that didn't contain both meat and potatoes. She eventually gave up the description and told them to just go ahead and try it. And so they did.

They had no idea what to expect but were clearly feeling excited about trying something so new. The waitress asked them if they wanted a small, a medium, or a large and that perplexed them as well. It was so hard to know, as they had no idea what they looked like. It seems that Uncle Charlie puzzled over the decision for a bit and then said, "Well, I'm really feeling hungry so I think I'll get a large one." And then (somewhat surprisingly) my Dad, a slight man with a notoriously small appetite, agreed that he'd have a large one as well.

Dad told me later that they both nearly fell off their chairs when the two enormous 'pizza pies' arrived. Their eyes were practically as big as the great wheels of food filling up their table. He said they gave it their all, but between the two of them they were unable to finish even one. But it certainly made a good story for Dad to tell his family and friends. He had fun describing this amazing new dish with his arms spread wide as if telling a 'fish story'.

Since my first taste of pizza at age 10, I went on to see and to eat many more pizzas of astonishing varieties. But I was surprised last week when my daughter, Eliza, said that her meal of choice for her 21st birthday was a pizza I had never even heard of - a "Taco Pizza".

So, we headed out to shop for the necessary ingredients: pizza crusts, taco sauce, refried beans, salsa, a variety of sweet peppers, a red onion, corn niblets, and a slab of marble cheese. These ingredients were assembled in layers (see recipe below), then the two pizzas were cooked. (We had planned to make three, but wisely settled on two.) Once the cheese was bubbling and looking very fine, we topped the pizzas with shredded lettuce and drizzled them with sour cream. Amazing.

We quickly found out that taco pizza is delicious! Eliza, her brother, Daniel, her boyfriend, C.J., and her friend, Devin, and I enjoyed our thick, tasty, and hot slices enthusiastically. But in the end, our meal bore quite a resemblance to Dad's and Uncle Charlie's long-ago 'pizza pie' experience in Detroit. Because even with five hungry diners at our table (including three young men!), try as we might, we couldn't finish even ONE taco pizza!

Cheers!!

Diane

Recipe for Taco Pizza

1 pizza crust (any kind you like)
1 can refried beans
1 small can taco sauce
1/2 cup salsa (mild, medium, or hot - your call)
1/2 red onion, diced
2 sweet peppers, diced (any colour)
1/2 can corn niblets (drained well)
2 cups shredded marble cheese
2 cups shredded romaine lettuce
1 cup sour cream, thinned with a little milk or cream (placed in a squeeze bottle)
Black olives, optional (We didn't use them because Eliza despises them.)

Mix refried beans and taco sauce and spread on pizza crust. Spread salsa over bean mixture.
Top with onion and peppers and corn.
Top all with grated cheddar.

Place on a pizza stone (preferrably) or a pizza pan. Bake at 400 degrees for about 20 minutes.
(Or until the cheese looks perfectly done to you.)

Remove pizza from oven carefully and place on a serving plate. Cover with shredded lettuce and drizzle with the sour cream. Slice pizza and serve immediately.

Wash down with a cold 'cerveza'. (Muy importante!)