Visiting Cuba is always bittersweet for me, as I lived there for three years as a child, and have visited often since. Their tough political situation is always in contrast with the sweet, friendly, educated people that live there. I dearly hope they see real change soon, but am afraid that it will come in the form of McDonald’s arches.

So I’ll be back shortly with photos and stories.  Have fun y’all!

Inevitably somewhere in the store you will come upon a large fridge. This fridge will contain a number of indispensable items dear to the Russian soul. A number of them will have been fermented. This is THE place to come for real sauerkraut. Lightly fermented, crispy and delicious it should be used within a week of purchasing. Try it next time you’re making a German supper or eat as a side dish with a thin drizzle of sunflower oil. No it’s not pretty, but it’s real kraut and it sells fast. You can serve it as a side or make them amazing German meals with bratwurst or go French with choucroute garnie.

Pail of sauerkraut

If you’ve ever been to Montreal and had the pleasure of eating at Schwartz’s, you will fondly remember the barrel pickles served with the mountains of tender brisket. You can find those pickles here, also in a barrel (or pail as the case may be), and they will be just as good as you remember them. Simply ask the nice people behind the counter for ‘solyonie ogurtsy’. To write the name phonetically is difficult as the Russian language has a few indispensable extra letters. You can specify regular or low salt pickles, and while both are delicious, low salt pickles are my personal favorite. Crunchy, dilly, and with a perfect flavor they accompany half of my dinners and make a great snack. They are called ‘malossolnye ogurtsy’ and even if you just copy and paste the name onto a piece of paper, they’ll sort you out.  (This photo did not turn out, so I’m borrowing from http://www.domsovetof.ru/publ/29-1-0-979).

You can see the liberal borrowing of foods from other cultures in these stuffed eggplant slices and halvah on the counter. And speaking of foods borrowed from other cultures, if you happen to spot a container of what look like julienned carrots in the fridge – grab them. They are indeed julienned carrots, but marinated in a mixture of oil and spices. The recipe hails from Korea, brought over by their many immigrants and renders the carrots fragrant, spicy and wonderful. It’s one of my favorite side dishes of all time, and given the fact that the store was sold out, I am not alone.

Russians love their fish. There is a veritable love affair with all sorts of fish – freshwater fish goes into a simple soup called ‘uha’ which is delicious if prepared carefully, ocean fish gets canned, made into savoury pies or smoked, and sprats are considered veritable picnic food. Salmon gets made into a sort of gravlax and tiny fishes are smoked and eaten as a substitute for beer nuts. If you’re not opposed to very rich fish, buy a smoked mackerel below. They are sliced across into thick slices and served with a bland side, like potatoes sprinkled with dill. The fish is tender and very smoky, but delicious. You’ll also see jars of salmon caviar and less often black caviar.

Smoked mackerel

For a single serving snack try a tiny smoked fish – they are literally nibbled on with beer after removing the fins and head (yes with your hands), kind of like peeling a shrimp.

Kinda like beer nuts

A huge draw for me, a person relatively disinterested in dessert, is the sweets section of the store. Call it nostalgia, or simply a call for quality, but I am so bitterly unimpressed with all commercial baked goods and desserts that I typically abstain from them completely. You know the stuff I’m talking about – the gross overly sweet cakes with gobs of fake frosting, the dense heavy pastries that hit your stomach like a brick, the fillings that are thick with gelatin and can pull out tooth fillings. I love quality desserts in small portions, something you can eat one bite at a time and lose yourself in contemplation of life’s goodness. Many Russian desserts fit the bill.

These small ‘walnuts’ are cookies filled with dulce de leche.

A perfect size

This is a honey cake – layers of honey dough and real cream filling in between. The trimmed layer crumbs cover the cake in a fluffy pillow. This version had raisins in it and was not my favorite.

This is my favorite cake of all time – the Napoleon. (I don’t know what’s up with the name….) It’s a layered cake also, with thin crumbly phyllo-like pastry and an amazing cream layered gently in between. It’s texturally a bit similar to baklava which I also adore, if that helps to explain it. It’s usually light, delicious and addictive.

Most homemade cakes in the store are sold by the slice, and some are boxed up and professionally decorated for parties and more formal events.

The pies below need little introduction, they are simply fruit pies with a variety of fillings in tender dough with a sprinkling of icing sugar. These were cherry which are not my favorite flavor and they were still pretty good.

Well folks, this concludes our edition of the Russian store tour, I hope this helps to lift the veil of mystery of the store and entices someone, anyone to venture in and try something new.

Unlike many exotic or unknown cuisines which have gained traction in recent years (Georgian, Turkish or Argentine), Russian cuisine remains in relative obscurity, especially in Canada. Apparently my countrymen despite their increasing numbers are not doing their part in spearheading the effort to introduce the food to our adoptive country. When we first moved to Canada there were very few folk from Russia here, and every time you’d inadvertently overhear someone speak Russian it would be an immediate occasion to introduce oneself and often make a new friend. There was exactly one small store selling Russian food, and people drove from across the city to see and buy familiar ingredients.  

Now it’s heard much more frequently around town, and there are several excellent stores carrying Russian themed items, yet I’ve never seen a native Canadian shop in such a store, even for the sake of curiosity.  The situation is often not helped by the store owner themselves, who sometimes speak poor English and are unable to help a bewildered customer navigate unfamiliar items and wax eloquent about their favorites. Even a local food writer extraordinaire dee Hobsbawn-Smith completely neglected Russian stores in her otherwise excellent book Shop Talk: The Open-All-Hours Insider’s Guide to Finding Great Ingredients in Calgary.  But there are some things which must be shared with the world, so without further ado, here is my tour of a typical Russian store with my highlighted favorites.

As you walk through the door you will see three things common to all Russian stores – tea, jams and canned goods. The teas are mainly imported due to Russian writing on the side of the box, although it comes from London, and can be seen in a few other stores around town, like the small market adjoining Atlas. The jams are rather unique – they are closer to preserves than a traditional jam and are softer and runnier, typically made with just sugar. The labels should help you navigate and some may even contain English labels. The flavors are more common to Russia – cranberry, black currant, red currant, blackberry and cherry are lined up next to the usual flavors of apricot, raspberry and strawberry. In the photo below the first half of the shelves is taken up with sweetened condensed milk and dolce de leche, both ingredients crucial to baking.

Loose tea from London

Next to the tea there are bins and bins of candy – mainly caramel and chocolate. They were rare toward the end of the Soviet era, so many people are quite nostalgic about their flavors. I am not a huge fan of most of them as they consist of a hard caramel shell with a soft fruity filling inside. Meh. The one exception are the candy with a cow on the label – they are fudgy and addictive. There are small bags around if you feel like trying one or a few – it’s candy you can’t go too far wrong.

The canned food section is vast and confusing. If you’re unfamiliar with Russian food, you should stay away from much of it at the beginning. Russian cuisine is not always friendly to untutored exploration and there is too much that will not be a good intro to a western palate. Basically baby steps – try what I’m recommending first before venturing into the murkier depths of traditional soups and spreads. A good place to start though is the vast variety of pickled items. Russia has always had cold and long winters and people had to rely on root cellars and preserving food to make it last through the winter to the harvest ahead. So the food culture evolved around whole grains, root vegetables, fermented foods and meat. On the shelf below you’ll see pickled red peppers, pickled watermelon, pickled cukes, pickled cabbage, pickled tomatoes, pickled zucchini and sauerkraut. You can’t go too far wrong with most of these items, but skip the sauerkraut, it’s made fresh in –house and will be in the fridge. 

Mmmm - pickles

I recommend these tiny crunchy baby cukes: (the label clearly refers to the drinking culture of Russia – it says ‘vodka chaser’ as these items are often consumed while drinking).

And my favorite brand of pickled tomatoes, made in Bulgaria.  Pickled tomatoes are brined without vinegar, just water, sugar, salt and spices. Of course their texture leaves them soft and falling apart, but if you can get past that – the flavor is great. Slightly sweet, rather salty they are an addictive taste and are a popular snack and hangover cure.

Ugly but good

 The sausage counter is just a mix of salted pork belly, lard, salami and ham, sliced to order. Everything is available to sample, and sampling is encouraged. There is no real guide here – the sausage culture is adapted heavily from Germany and Poland and probably other places I don’t know about, but sausage is sausage.

Somewhere near the front counter you’ll see a bread basket. Typically there will be three types of bread inside – a long sliced loaf, similar to the mild German rye that is sold at Superstore at the moment, a square dark rye, almost black, and the loaf you see below.  The square dark rye is perhaps Russia’s most iconic bread – Borodinsky bread. Legend has it that it was developed by nuns who baked loaves studded with coriander around the village of Borodino, famous as a battle site against Napoleon. Sweetened with malt and studded with caraway it is a dark dense loaf, full of flavor that can stand up to the toughest toppings. It’s a noble bread, but my personal favorite happens to be a smaller, even denser loaf with a sweet chewy texture. Even my boyfriend who is rather cautious in his enthusiasm for Russian food happily snacks on it, along with chunks of dry salami and aged cheddar, or dipped in borscht. All the breads can be frozen, so you are under no obligation to eat through a whole loaf, although they keep well on the counter. Very healthy and low calorie they are a filling guilt free snack at our house.

Russian rye - nothing like it

If you were to only purchase one single item as an introduction to Russian food, these would have to be it. Each bags below holds one kilogram of Siberian dumplings – Russia’s answer to wontons in Asia, tortellini in Italy and empanadas in Latin America. They are one of the holy grails of Russian cuisine. When I was a child it was common for the family to get together for a several hour long marathon of pelmeni making. Pork and beef were mixed together in equal quantities, a schwack of onions would be grated in, a good quantity of black pepper and salt would be added and the whole mix would be wrapped up in fresh dough circles, placed on floured trays and frozen. Several thousand would be made at a time and since we lived in Siberia we simply stored them outside.

Try them now!

To prepare pelmeni simply drop them frozen into boiling water seasoned with a bit of seasoning salt and a bay leaf. They will be done about five minutes after they begin floating, or about 10 minutes total. You can serve them in the resulting broth or on their own. Traditionally they are served with melted butter,  mustard, sour cream or vinegar spiked with pepper, but people also love them with ketchup and horseradish. Really you should set out at least three of the above and have a taste test – a clear winner will soon emerge. James loves his mustard (or sometimes Sriracha sauce), and I am a ketchup girl. Although in the winter I’ve been known to dip them into apple cider vinegar and pepper. The world is your oyster. These are amazing and fast treats and THE perfect supper on a chilly weeknight. Ten minute dinner that everyone adores, even if you factor in a salad.

Whew, part 2 coming up on Monday.

The store I took photos in is aptly named Russian Store, and is located at:

523 Woodpark Blvd SW

403-238-4607

But there are several in town, including:

Matryoshka on the corner of 16 Ave and 14 St SW

Slavic Store

17107 James McKevitt Road SW

403-201-0057

Kalinka at 11440 Braeside Dr SW

403-281-6688

Teremok

Avenida Place Shopping Centre

403-873-0962

First off – after writing compelling letters to Sequoia Naturals, the makers of gross chocolate flavored Vega Health Optimizer, the company rep was kind enough to send out some samples of their OTHER flavors which happen to be Vanilla Chai, Berry and Natural. After drinking them this week, I can confidently say that both Vanilla Chai and Berry are at the very least drinkable, if one step below great. I mixed the VChai with half milk half water and it was totally decent, and I mixed berry with a Happy Planet berry smoothie (about 3 oz to a glass of water), and it was also quite nice. I don’t know where they went wrong with the chocolate flavor, but now I have a huge tub that I’ll have to sneak in to other flavors in tiny quantities to use up. If the stuff didn’t work so well I’d chuck it, but it’d be a crime to waste it all. Did I mention I sleep less, have more energy, and can get through pretty tough workouts every.single.day? That’s why it’s even up for discussion.

We had a small group meeting at work, and just like EVERY other time the manager pointed out that SOME people abuse their breaks, and we as a group have to be really careful to watch when we’re at our desks, and how many breaks we take. I’m one of those retards people that immediately feels guilty (for no reason), and starts mentally scanning the schedule of the last few weeks, trying to figure out where I may have come in ten minutes late or was running late after lunch. The fact that I hardly ever take lunch (I prefer to leave early) is completely irrelevant. I KNOW this is not a reference to myself, so I think it’s a horrible managerial practice to bring up individual people’s issues and address them to the group. It makes everyone feel like crap and really sours the mood for the day. I know why they do it – it’s both to nip a problem in the bud without having to have an uncomfortable conversation with a decent employee, and to prophylactically keep everyone else on their toes, but frak it’s lazy and it fails. Everyone walks away feeling underappreciated and scrutinized (big brother is watching!) and starts pushing back in other ways, wasting time at their desks rather than going for a coffee. People keep a mental tally of time spent working vs. not, and after a talk like that it shifts dramatically, like for every five minutes I come in early I’ll waste ten surfing the net, because everyone hates being babysat and their time micromanaged. I think managers should keep it completely rah-rah and positive with group talks, and bring up individual issues with people as they arise, no matter how unpleasant the discussion. It’s your job.

I am absolutely in love with Miss Anna’s Carribean Sauces. I read about them ages ago on Serious Eats, and if memory serves they were some sort of best hot sauce winner or some such. Anyway, I contacted the company and inquired about Canadian shipping, and they said it would be available in a while. Well it’s been a while, and they now ship to Canada. I cannot overstate how good they are, my faves being the Sweet and Sassy Sauce (despite the name), and their Mellow Pepper Sauce. Don’t ask me to pick a favorite, cause that would be like picking a favorite child. They are some of the most complex, flavorful and multi-purpose sauces I’ve ever eaten. The s&s sauce is closer to a dipping sauce, although I’ve basted it on ribs with great success, and the mellow pepper sauce is a phenomenal marinade with a hint of smoke and turmeric. In fact both my bottles are now empty so I’m going to replenish my stash.

Amazon.ca now has a home and garden section. I am so hooped – I’m already a hopeless addict shipping at least two orders of books each month, and now this? I need to urgently freeze my credit card which would be great except for the fact that it’s on file. Maybe I could do the child blocker thingie on myself and restrict access to once per month??? Help.

I may have mentioned once or twice that I’m not a morning person. Sunday was no different, and we arrived at the bistro at the *ahem*early hour of 2 pm, which worked out to a great advantage since we were the only ones there, and they serve brunch till three p.m.

Although it’s not much to look at from the outside, (are they going to finish that?)

The interior is simple and lovely with warm neutral colors and lots of wood. Since we arrived so late we were able to snag a prime seat by the window and watch the world drive by.

After ordering the mandatory, necessary and obligatory elixir of life coffee, which was nice and strong and came with cute wee spoons, we browsed the short and sweet menu. Neither of us have much of a sweet tooth, so waffles and french toast were out, and in the end we chose the filling but comforting eggs benedict for John and truffled omelet for myself.

I gotta tell you right now, the omelet was a revelation. Tender, soft and chock full of goodies it was everything that an omelet tries to be, and in my kitchen fails. I’ve never made an omelet that was much more than scrambled eggs, but this one was divine. Full of mushrooms, green onions, truffles, well seasoned, it was a symphony of flavors on par with the best omelet I’ve ever had. The pork belly, grilled tomato, toast and hash browns were simply gilding the lily. I’m craving that omelet just thinking about it.

John’s eggs benedict were very good, but not as good as my omelet. The eggs were softly poached, but the sauce seemed weaker and blander compared to what great eggs benny achieve. The brioche was a fantastic foil and the pork belly provided a much needed salty note, it was a solid dish, but not achieving full greatness.

The only two minor complaints we had was that the hash browns could’ve used a hint more salt too. Not to sound like a salt fiend, but they were very well cooked, crispy in the corners and soft on the inside, flecked with herbs and looked great, but potatoes take a good deal of salt to bring out their flavor, and these ones just lacked a bit. Salt shakers were not provided at the table, and the ketchup offered was housemade and waaaay too sweet. Breakfast places should not mess with Heinz, it’s a gold standard for a reason, and I’ve only tasted a couple of house ketchups that rivaled it.

Minor quibbles aside, we had a great, filling, satisfying breakfast. The service was great, the coffee was flowing, and all was right with the world.

4.5/5

AKA Winebar
709 Edmonton Trail NE
403-984-7534
Tuesday to Thursday & Sunday 4-11 p.m.
Friday & Saturday 4 p.m.-1 a.m.
Weekend brunch Saturday and Sunday 9 a.m.-3 p.m.

Readers with an eye on European politics will recognize Ali as the Somali-born    member of the Dutch parliament who faced death threats after collaborating on a film about domestic violence against Muslim women with controversial director Theo van Gogh (who was himself assassinated). Even before then, her attacks on Islamic culture as “brutal, bigoted, [and] fixated on controlling women” had generated much controversy. In this suspenseful account of her life and her internal struggle with her Muslim faith, she discusses how these views were shaped by her experiences amid the political chaos of Somalia and other African nations, where she was subjected to genital mutilation and later forced into an unwanted marriage. While in transit to her husband in Canada, she decided to seek asylum in the Netherlands, where she marveled at the polite policemen and government bureaucrats. Ali is up-front about having lied about her background in order to obtain her citizenship, which led to further controversy in early 2006, when an immigration official sought to deport her and triggered the collapse of the Dutch coalition government. Apart from feelings of guilt over van Gogh’s death, her voice is forceful and unbowed—like Irshad Manji, she delivers a powerful feminist critique of Islam informed by a genuine understanding of the religion. 8-page photo insert.

From Publishers Weekly

This weekend I finished digesting the controversial autobiographical novel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali on the recommendation of a friend, and what a novel it was. Very well written, it chronicles the life of Ayaan from the streets of Somalia to her arrival in the Netherlands, and her journey of renouncing religion in favor of atheism. She speaks very passionately about the oppression of one half of the world’s women for religious reasons, then proceeds to warn the west about the dangers newly arrived immigrants pose.  Actually this book covers a multitude of issues, way too numerous to dissect in one post – whether Islam is truly a religion of peace, whether any religion can shed its bloody history of war and oppression, whether westerners have any idea of the value of the freedoms we have, and how vigilant we must be to guard them. It’s a fascinating saga of a book that never gets too dull or pedantic but wraps up all the issues and historical context in a profound personal story.

Ayaan doesn’t pull back punches though, and some of them are aimed at the western world, that she feels is too lenient and permissive towards immigrants. She feels that hiding under political correctness and tolerance is a reluctance to protect not only the foundations of liberty of the west, but a disservice to the women and girls that continue to be persecuted by unintegrated community members of the newly arrived. She points out the statistics of the girls killed by family members, the genital mutilations performed on kitchen tables, the women’s shelters overflowing with beaten wives, the crime rate spikes in predominantly immigrant neighborhoods, and the drain on resources they represent if they choose not to learn the language and participate in the economy funded by the safety net of the world that sheltered them. Referring mainly to Holland, she says that with political correctness and tolerance and fear of being called racist, the country funds ethnic schools where the children are done a disservice with a cherry picked education, heavy on religion and light on history and science, and promote harmful segregation in the name of cultural sensitivity. They are heavy topics to discuss and yet the books doesn’t get heavy with proselytizing and reads easily.

There’s lots of food for thought here, and as an immigrant I can see both sides of the issue. On one hand you have indisputable statistics that support many of Ayaan’s assertions. You don’t have to look far in Calgary to find that the crime rates are higher as a rule in the quadrant of the city where many of the newly arrived cluster. The gang problem that’s spiked dramatically in the last few years is predominantly a product of the oriental culture and our latest murder trial was of a mother who killed her daughter for her overly westernized ways.  To deny the negative impact of immigration from vastly different cultures is dishonest. But on the other hand I see a severe failing of the country to prepare immigrants for life here and perhaps even help them succeed. When predominantly young families arrive in Canada, the culture shock is often severe, I know it was for us. Despite Canada’s self-claim as a polite and friendly country it is often rather cold or uncaring towards immigrants. Sure there’s a genuinely nice culture in small towns, but that’s not where the jobs are, so newcomers end up immersed in cosmopolitan and jaded cities. Not helped by the language barrier, the people are actually not that easy to get to know with our busy lifestyles that often don’t allow us to know our own neighbors, never mind befriend someone new. We often lament that we don’t even have time to see the friends we have, let alone make time for new ones. We often wait for new people to get more ‘westernized’ before we allow them into our circle, making polite small talk at work, but not really breaking down any cultural barriers.

So what are people to do? They do what comes naturally. They find other immigrants from their country, and sigh in relief. Often lonely and homesick, having left all their friends and many family members they understandably feel comforted at meeting someone, anyone who understands, has been there and speaks the language. Quite often the informal ‘training’ they get from their friends is invaluable and not found in any guidebook. Newly arrived people don’t need to know how Canada’s parliament system works right away, they need to know how to purchase bus fare and navigate the city.  Where to buy groceries and how to enroll your child in school. What work options are available and where to take English courses. This, and a myriad of other basic things, skills and tips are not found in any guide for newcomers and make culture shock more severe than it needs to be. Many people get overwhelmed with all the information flying at them with mach speed and you end up with older generations that have lived in Canada for twenty plus years and still don’t speak English.  But the biggest way we fail immigrants is by failing to truly streamline their re-accreditization in their chosen profession. That’s how we end up with the most educated cab drivers. I cannot count how many people have degrees that are sitting there unused while they do menial work because they have to start from scratch and get re-certified, negating the years of effort it took to get the degree in the first place. These are people who are in the prime of their earning years who cannot afford to go back to school for four, six or eight years as they have a family to support, so their degrees get shelved as they find ways and means to support them. In the meantime, politicians bleat about nurse and doctor shortages as well as every other employee shortage you can think of, yet can’t find the time to streamline the process of getting qualifications recognized.  This is a criminal waste of talent and ensures that many immigrant families’ earning power is low longer, contributing to both the burden on social services and delaying their productive integration into our society.

Whew. This is just one of the many tangents this book can take you on, so needless to say it’s an excellent and important read.  I now leave you with a picture that is much more tranquil than the rant I just went on. Feel free to agree or disagree below. Or just pet a cat.

I’m having my biennial get in shape session. It seems every couple of years I get motivated to start exercising again, and make fitness a lasting part of life once and for all. Typically these efforts last from a few weeks to a few months, whereupon I get content to do hardly anything for a very comfortable year or so, until the guilt or the scale prompts the whole effort to start up again.

I know this is no way to approach fitness. I know all the arguments for having it be a lasting permanent part of my life. I know I should have good healthy activities built into my daily routine, like walking my imaginary dogs for two miles every day, or getting off the bus a few stops early. I know that I should treasure the temple that is my body and treat it with good whole foods in abundant quantities.  I know that I’m no better than a yo-yo dieter losing the same fifteen pounds over and over again and watching them creep right back one hearty meal at a time. But I find leading an overly healthy lifestyle a big bore. And I’m lazy, and my body is not the biggest fan of exercise. The endorphin rush? Never heard of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t gorge on high fat foods and chocolate bars every day,  I ski and shovel snow in the winter, and I park at the far end of the parking lot and ride my bike (at least twice) in the summer, but when I’m going on a fitness spree there’s so much more involved. First off, I make a point of exercising at least five times per week, not one or two as is typical, I make a point of eating five or six small meals a day, not two and a half large ones. I increase my consumption of veggies, greens and supplements dramatically, which brings me to the point of this post.

Since eating actual five or six meals per day is beyond the cooking and time abilities of most people, athletes who need to eat that often typically rely on meal replacement shakes and bars. Some of these are hardly more than the human equivalent of crappy cat food – full of fillers, mystery chemicals, artificial sweeteners, and token vitamins. Some are pretty good for you mixes of quality nutrient sources, and there’s a newcomer on the scene, from Canada no less, that is a veritable powerhouse of nutrition.

Developed by a BC vegan Ironman triathlete to provide a vegan source of high quality nutrients and proteins it contains some of the most helpful and unusual ingredients I’ve ever seen in a meal replacement: hemp, lentil and brown rice protein (with all the amino acids), all your EFA’s, fiber, fructo-oligosaccharides, mixed berry complex blend (antioxidants), full serving of maca (for stamina, alkaloids, minerals and hormone balancing), probiotics, digestive enzymes, and a full complement of vitamins and minerals. Sounds super healthy doesn’t it? I mean do you get a full serving of ANY of the above items in your diet every day? I sure don’t. The only caveat? It tastes awful.  How awful? Awful enough that it prompted my gag reflex, which I think is sensitive to stevia, a natural sweetener that has a medicinal aftertaste.

Why would I go through the trouble of drinking something awful? Because I noticed the benefits immediately. Like day 2. Being a veteran of hard workouts I’ve noticed a familiar pattern: after the first few days of exercise my muscles ache, I get tired, shivery and weak and for about two to three weeks I feel depleted (unlike the uranium in Iran apparently), and drained. I know my body is telling me that either the effort needs to be decreased or the nutrient uptake has to go up, and since my efforts aren’t that impressive to begin with, I try to work with the nutrients.  My body is simply unable to cope with the increased demands of exercise and is not shy about telling me to fix it. Multivitamins seem to have little effect, neither do power bars, shakes, or a brief experiment with super-greens. But this stuff went to work immediately and deeply. After day 1 of a brutal workout (I’ve started P90X for those of ya who know what that’s all about), I woke up properly stiff, but not sore, and I had ENERGY. Lots of it. Enough to complete workout number two, and three and four. In fact it wasn’t until day five that I needed a break due to sore leg muscles, which is a personal record.

So the stuff works no doubt about it. Now what to do about the taste? Well, after a week of experimenting I’m here to tell you the magic formula:

Add ONE scoop of Vanilla whey protein powder, a half up of almond milk and a half cup of water. Shake. It will taste something like thick chocolate milk. Maybe a vegan chocolate milk, but so much better than just the powder alone. And it will be worth it. Especially with the flu season upon us, the immune system can use a little boost, and with me exercising like a mad woman (as long as it lasts), the nutrient support is well worth it. In fact I will probably continue drinking this year round while writing letters to the manufacturer imploring them to improve the taste.

How are your exercise habits? Do you get enough? If so, how?

**Disclaimer** I have NO relationship with this company, other than sending them imploring e-mails to fix this great product.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m a summer person through and through. I love long days that don’t seem to end, I love seeking shade from the hot sun in the sky, I love how easy it is to get dressed in the mornings what with the not looking for stray mittens, hats, scarves and debating whether a face mask is going too far or not. I love slipping into sandals and not worrying about socks, boots, and cracking your head open on residential roads that never see a plow. I love summer food – the bounty, the abundance, the freshness, the perfect ripeness of a sun warmed strawberry or a tomato.

But I live in a northern land, three thousand feet above sea level, at the foothills of majestic mountains and surrounded by wide prairies. Winter is a fact of life here, and it’s often harsh. Temperatures plunge deeply and without warning, snowfalls bury the city making roads impassable, and winter often lasts beyond all rhyme and reason. This is not a winter from an LL Bean catalogue where families frolic in the sunny meadow building a snowman and sipping hot chocolate. You just know the weather in those photos is hovering just below zero, while you contemplate the arctic parka from Canada Goose while there’s a blizzard outside.  And while always welcome in the winter, Chinooks unleash their own mayhem raising temperatures by thirty degrees in hours turning roads into deep slush piles and melting everything in sight.  In fact, I’ve recently cultivated an appreciation for skiing, to my own surprise, just so that there’s something else to do besides hibernate by the fireplace.

So around here we need the fall, bittersweet that it is, to ease the transition between the summer fun and the bitter short days of winter. We need to feel the shock of that first night below zero and to begin acclimatizing so that in January we can wear a t-shirt on a sunny + 10 day with impunity.  We need to watch the leaves change colors, and bunnies replace their brown summer coats with snow white down. We need to start making stews, chilies and roasts because the oven is just another convenient way to warm the house. It’s like a fireplace only tastier.

Because all too soon we’ll be surprised to see this on our doorstep (only twenty days after our summer high of 32 C), which is nature’s way to dispense with slow acclimatization and just employ some shock therapy on our hides. Just to keep us from getting complacent and all.

 Photos  by my talented friend Warren Sable who actually knows how to use his camera.

And the only reason it was ugly is because *I* baked it.

The original pie baked by baker extraordinaire Deb of Smitten Kitchen is very attractive with peach slices arranged artfully in a tender crust rolled out in a smooth circle.   Like this.

But I was not blessed with the ability to craft precise food. All of my cooking and baking looks a bit sloppy, very homemade and well, let’s just call it rustic. Yeah, rustic. Some people have geometric precision built into their ways in the kitchen. They can turn out picture perfect cakes:

How gorgeous is this?

Photo by Stacey Snacks

While my baking more resembles:

Now this is not to say that what I turn out doesn’t taste good, it does. I have a pretty good palate and know my way around the kitchen, but I lack the precision and patience required to turn out works of art.

There is a cultural component too. I was raised on Russian food, and while hearty and filling, it cannot be called delicate, refined or pretty, even if you tried.  Some Russian staples include buckwheat groats, a loaded potato salad, homemade dumplings, a soup made with barley and pickles, pigs feet in aspic (no joke), and many recipes borrowed from surrounding areas like borscht, cabbage rolls and kebabs. S ay what you will but those foods do not lend themselves to a delicate presentation or precision in their making.  If anything a part of their charm is their adaptability to local conditions, tastes and availability of ingredients. But there is a reason you don’t see many Russian recipes in cookbooks.

So needless to say when faced with recipes that look like they came out of a magazine, I sigh and think to myself ‘wait till you see what it looks like in my kitchen.’ (In fact that should be a rite of passage – have your recipe tested by me, because then you’ll know what it really looks like in a  home kichen).  I’m sure they’d see it and cry. But if they turn out delicious, then I feel the need to shake off any hesitation of posting such contrasting works of art and share them with the world. And if your recipes never come out looking as perfect as they do in magazines, stand proud – you’re in good company.

Up until the weekend I had the remnants of the last fresh peaches from BC which tasted heavenly but which were not going to last much longer. They were developing the telltale little brown spots that clearly said ‘eat me now’, and we were stuffed full of ‘em. My friend Google suggested a lovely sounding pie which I promptly proceeded to make.

Other than the time to chill the dough, it came together very quickly.

Pre-bake the crust for a few minutes, smear some crème fraiche, throw in peaches tossed with sugar, add a bit more crème fraiche and a streusel topping which took two minutes to make, seriously.

MMMMM

And the result? While not fit for a photo shoot, this was a seriously delicious pie. Somewhere I went a bit wrong with the dough and it was a bit too buttery, with butter oozing out of the pre-baked crust, and there was likely too much streusel – next time I’d add less and see what happens. And I didn’t have a proper pie plate to bake it in, my last one falling victim to a moving accident. But the flavors were stellar. Juicy tender peaches with just enough sugar to flavor the crème fraiche and bursts of flavor from the streusel made for a very grown up delight. I’d make this again in a heartbeat, tweaking the recipe for any stone fruit around and perhaps trying this dough thing one more time.
 

In a small bit of gardening news, I planted some beautiful fragrant daffodils in my beds for next year, replacing a very ugly evergreen bush that was simply not thriving. Since the sun sets abysmally early these days I had to plant in the dark. Wielding the shovel I felt kind of criminal, like I was burying a body or something, but that’s gardening in the north for ya.

Whatchoo want?

I know I’m horrifically behind on posting, and I even have nifty things to post about but it’s been a heck of a busy week again! Between playing with and feeding up my foundling – who has now found a forever home and will be leaving us soon, (so so bittersweet to let him go!) – and hopping along at work, and shoveling snow to the horror of my unused back muscles, I’ve simply been terribly busy. And writing a decent post takes a decent amount of time. I guess I’m not the world’s fastest typer, maybe I should look into that dictaphone software.

That's the life

Nightstand nap

Comfy nap

Fat comfort

Anytime anyplace