Recipes for Trouble

I’m sick of cancer.

Not my own. I don’t have it. Not yet, anyway. The stats in this country are 1 in 4. An epidemic, really. An environmental disease, I believe. What do I do? I eat broccolli. Quinoa. Blueberries. I take my vitamins. I drink wine, eat cake. I play the odds.

Too many of my friends, family, and friends-of-friends have been struck. I’m sick of cancer of the larynx, ovarian cancer, Hodgkin’s non- some-thing-or-other-lymphoma, and multiple myeloma, to be exact. Not to mention: breast cancer, breast cancer, breast cancer.

It’s always the same routine. They tell me over the phone, in a casual tone of voice best used to report a cavity. They’re trying to be kind, they don’t want to shock.

I choke up. They wait patiently for me to recover my composure. They are gentle with me, and yes, patient. They know what’s coming next.

I don’t cry. I ask: What stage. What’s next. And: Are. You. Doing. Complementary. Treatments. What. About. Nutrition.

They love that one. Like having to undergo chemo’s not bad enough, now they have to eat cruciferous vegetables and ground flax seed too.

Or, as my mother sometimes says before my visits. Here. Comes. Bootcamp.

I hang up the phone and cry my private tears. Then, I go online.

Yogurt. Broccolli. Garlic. Ginger. Tomatoes. Watermelon. Blueberries. Sunflower Seeds. Shitake mushrooms. Carrots.

Immune boosters. Anti-oxidants. Anti-inflammatories. I make a list, just for them and their cancer.

They humour me. They smile. They say: I’ll. Look. It. Over.. My mother allowed herself to be talked into a juicer. The Textile Artist let me cook for her. They’re still alive. The fact that they are strong, determined Slavic women with centuries of survival behind them didn’t hurt.

Another phone call, last night.

I grew up with this person. I was planning on getting old with this person in my life. This dear friend, who shrugs when I finally do cry and says, Hey, it’s like my ma likes to say. No. One. Gets. Out. Alive.

We laugh. We finish our breakfast and walk out into a soft gentle summer rain.

I’m not ready to lose this friend, not yet. Not. Yet. I chant to myself. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Photos by Lydia.

It was all very mysterious, getting to Wakefield.

The plan was to visit my sister, who lives in Gatineau, and on the map it looks like you could walk to Wakefield from her house in ten minutes.

Must buy a new map!

We left Friday evening of a long weekend. 401 jammed; we got there via shadowy old highways and then via the spaghetti of freeways that connects Ottawa to Quebec. We crept into a dark B&B called La Grange (The Barn) at 1:30 a.m., and found ourselves in a small, pristine and adorable room, devoid of the usual flowery flourishes that can make B&B stays so terribly kitschy.

As it turned out, Wakefield and my sister’s pad in Gatineau aren’t really that close. The Girlfriend had to drive twenty-five minutes each way, which she did with sweet resolve. I. Like. Your. Sister. she said. I. Don’t. Mind. Staying in Ottawa would have made more sense. But then we might not have discovered this sweet funky little town, with some damn good eatin’ to boot.

Pipolinka, the town’s organic bakery, was one of our first stops before going hiking at Lac Meech. Great bread and baguette but also mushroom pate to die for, fab tabouleh made with quinoa, and something I’d never seen, a vegetarian tourtiere, (a traditional Quebecois savoury pie usually made with pork).

Oddly, you couldn’t find cheese in Wakefield, but you could get yourself a delicious meal at Chez Eric, made from local (or at least regional) ingredients like my Lake Erie bass atop sauteed mushrooms, rapini and chanterelle mushrooms. My sister and The Girlfriend both had lamb burgers and they hearted them. My only complaint was the lack of side dishes: my brothy, mushroomy fish dish would have been perfection with a side of mashed potatoes to soak up the jus - and who serves $15 burgers without a few sweet potato fries?

Ah, but it was all so summery. Even the rain, streaming outside our B&B window, making everything a green blur.

There were blueberries from a roadside stand, a covered bridge, my sister taking pictures of absolutely everything, a river, a hike up the side of a mountain with waterfalls where trails once existed, a swim in a dark blue lake, and a picnic of bakery finds.

I saw my first sunflowers the other day. Harbinger of death, I screamed! OK, not really, but sunflowers, beautiful as they are, do serve as a reminder that The End of Summer is on its way (cue funereal music here…).

A lover once said to me; Wow. You. Really. Have. A. Thing. About. Summer. She thought it odd that I saw summer as a special and distinct season. Needless to say she did not last long.

I asked The Anti-Poverty Organizer what she wants to achieve in what’s left of summer. She looked puzzled. She listed some work things. But I hope I planted a seed. I hope she jumps in a lake or hops on another ferry before summer’s end.

For all of those reasons, I thought I would bare my soul and post a few things I want to achieve for The Rest of the Summer. I’ll check back with this list in September to see how I did…

Have a summer BBQ
I’ve tidied up my deck, planted some flowers. Time to have some loud and lovely friends grace the back deck while I stir up mojitos, mustard glazed chicken kebabs, blueberry bulgar salad, watermelon feta salad, purslane and parsley salad, and raspberry banana sorbet (see below).

Write every weekday morning
…It doesn’t matter if it’s fifteen minutes or two hours. A daily writing practice is powerful: it builds the creative muscles, and it adds pages, too.

Go camping
How can I call myself a Canadian?? This summer I have yet to huddle over a campfire, swat away small wild animals, crawl into a too-small tent, sleep on an uncomfortable mattress and wake up to the sounds of lake water lapping on a shore.

Hire a research assistant
Boring, I know. But scary emails from my academic publisher appear in my inbox; onerous research deadlines loom! Somewhere in the near empty hallways of my university lurks the perfect research assistant and I will find her/him!

Go on more picnics
Last week The Anti Poverty Organizer, The Girlfriend and myself had the simplest of picnics: homemade potato salad and churassco chicken, at a perfect picnic table on Ward’s Island (ok, I know churassco chicken has had way too much mention on this site). But really, it doesn’t take much….

Go swimming
A friend of mine once said that summer has not been achieved until you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve plunged into the lake/ocean/river…

Get my course syllabi done
Which of these things do not go together? swimming…barbecuing…course syllabi??? Yes, dear readers, academics do not have the entire summer off as many of you, in your slightly delusional ways of thinking, assume. In fact, we pretty much work through whole summer. The trick is to mix and match: a few hours of course prep followed by a late afternoon date for cocktails on a terrace with someone amusing is the way to do it.

Buy certain essential household items
A bed (my back calls out for a better one!); a TV (mine is 15 years old!); a couch (the one I have is a borrowed vintage Ikea monstrosity).

Go to more farmers’ markets
Dufferin Grove Market last week was a riot of colour, smells and tastes, even in a gentle rain. Trinity Bellwoods features The Peach Man with his earnest lecture on biodynamic farming, and The Cheese Lady and her fantastic fromage. Like snowflakes, no two alike….

Sit in as many outdoor terraces as humanly possible
Our outdoor cafes days are numbered…

Sign up for driving lessons
I am one of those unusual folk who cannot drive. But the other day I ran into one of the little old ladies who grace my neighbourhood. I learned to drive at age 50 she said. Was so nice. I drove to Scarborough. I drove to Hamilton. 50. Is. Very Good. Age. To. Learn. To. Drive.

So there you have it. My rest-of-summer list.

What are your plans for the rest of the summer?

Raspberry-Banana Sorbet

This makes about 3 large servings. Add an extra frozen banana or cup of fruit for each additional serving.

2 frozen bananas (peel ripe bananas and wrap with plastic wrap before freezing solid)
2 cups fresh raspberries (or fruit of choice), frozen
soymilk
sweetener of choice (liquid sweeteners, such as rice syrup or agave nectar, dissolve best)

Take the frozen bananas out of the freezer and break them into 3 or 4 pieces. Place them and the raspberries into the food processor and allow them to sit for about 10 minutes, to thaw only slightly.

Cover and start the food processor. (Don’t be surprised when the processor bucks like an angry bull when the blade hits that frozen fruit!) With it running, add just a little bit of “milk” (you can also use water or juice here) to help the fruit blend smoothly. I recommend about 1/4 to 1/2 cup liquid for the amount of fruit used here. Stop the processor from time to time and scrape down the sides. Keep processing until the fruit is the smooth consistency of soft-serve ice cream. Add sweetener to taste (I use a little bit of stevia) and process briefly one more time.

Serve immediately. Or you can put the whole processor into the freezer until you’re ready to eat and give it another blending right before serving. The sorbet can also be stored in a plastic container for up to a few days and re-processed to soften.

Let’s talk picnics, shall we?

I’ve been picnic-ing since my birthday in May. That picnic was luxurious: croissant, olives, baguette, duck pate and a selection of rich, fancy cheeses from La Fromagerie, the snobby cheese place in my ‘hood. Me, my sister, and The Girlfriend. It was friendly, silly…and delicious.

I know, I know, it’s poured rain ever since, but really, folks, you have to seize the moment.

On a gentle, warm Monday summer evening this week, The Girlfriend and I headed to High Park, picnic knapsack in hand. The park felt intimate, with just a few frisbeeing, fishing, jogging, dogwalking and picnic-ing souls. We parked our plaid blankets by Grenadier Pond and feasted on the following menu:

Watermelon feta salad
Churrasco chicken
Sundried Tomato Pasta Salad
Greens with lemon, olive oil and sea salt
Strongbow cider and Creemore beer
Blueberries and raspberries for dessert

It was all yummy (although I’d forgotten how salty the churrasco chicken is, how it needs something bland, like bread or potatoes, alongside). But the watermelon salad (recipe below) stole the salad show, I must say. And the cider matched the chicken perfectly.

The hues of the water changed subtly from jade to dark green. The ducks took little delicate swims. Dorky men in golfshirts and shorts appeared at the edges of the pond for solitary bouts of fishing. The Girlfriend and I leaned into each other, nibbled on berries and talked about sweet, funny things.

We ended the night with incredible house-made ice cream from Ed’s Real Scoop (2224 Queen St. E), at the other end of town, in The Beach (we have a long distance relationship, The Girlfriend and I). Spicy chocolate and blood orange: quite the sexy sexy combo.

Been on any picnics lately?

Watermelon Salad

This salad is fast, pretty, refreshing and different, and goes well with grilled chicken or alongside a grain-based salad. Make it at the last minute and prepare only as much as you need: it doesn’t keep well.

1/4 medium-sized watermelon
1/4 red onion, diced finely (I used green onions, which also works)
1 stalk celery, 1/4 inch dice
1 T finely chopped parsley
1 T finely chopped basil or mint (optional)
1/2 pitted kalamata olives (I used a jar of sliced, to save time - just as good)
1 t extra virgin olive oil
1/2 c crumbled feta

Cube or melon ball the watermelon; reserve.
In a medium bowl, combine everything else. Drain watermelon (it will continue to produce juice) and toss gently with ingredients in bowl.

Serves 4