About Recipes

Share a recipe from a kitchen that is tried and true and your story too. A recipe you love and a story about yourself, a friend, mother, sister, grandma, father, husband, anyone in your life. Tell me about the person who gave you the recipe, or an occasion where it was served, a funny, charming or irresistible moment, an anecdote, a detail of life, a memory, or those indispensable words of wisdom that will remain in your heart forever.

1 Comment

  • Nell says: August 14, 2014 at 4:41 pm

    My clothes are always covered in dog hair.  A blonde and black lab
    will do that to you.  My husband is composing a la Keith Jarrett and
    all is otherwise quiet on the home front.  It usually is.

    We moved from the city to the country two years ago.  A dear friend
    asked what I do now.  I check out Toronto Life to see what great plays, 
    concerts and new nosh spots I can no longer walk to.  
     I also check out on line courses in philosophy, medicine, calligraphy.  I am looking for
    the rudder.  Transition from the workplace, either to parenting or later
    into retirement is big.  Actually huge.  There is a plethora of self help out 
    there.  Joined carp, we have power in numbers.

    Found the local spring fed trout farm.   Same family running it for the past fifty some years.  Closed December 25th.  Only day it is.  After checking out the vats filled 
    with various sized trout, we pick out dinner and in minutes are taking our freshly filleted
    dinner home for the BBQ.  

    Also connected with a local farmer, his family has been farming their land for 
    close to 100 years.  He plants hay or clover on our twenty tillable acres and we
    buy his hay fed beef, lamb, chicken and eggs.  

    Municipal politics are as ripe with rot as one would suspect when there is no
    oversight available, as much as Andre’s office wishes it was not so.  And I thought
    Toronto politics had a smell.

    My husband and I discuss the recent editing of his contact list.  So many people it is ok to delete now that we are moving away from careers.   I remember the day I saw my mothers contact information and realized she had been dead for years.  It wanted to be kept.  Grief is like that, it will release its tentacles when and if it is time go.  Reminded me of the “wait a minute” plant we were introduced to on a recent trip to Kurunda National Park in northern Australia.  Our guide, who enjoyed an audience,  leaned out of the ” army duck” and placed
    a vine on his arm.  When he attempted to pull it off there was a plethora of tiny suctions cups that would not let go…awaiting the kill…when the prey resisted the flight the predator gave up the fight.

    Sultry summer is upon us so must relinquish the pen for the trowel.  So many
    weeds,  so soft the breeze.

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