Yesterday I joined the ranks of Facebook. There were just too many things I was missing as a result of not having yet drank the Kool-aid. My concerns were mostly due to the wax and wane of the privacy policies and the lack of security granularity available to the users.
There are a couple of things that stand out to me. The mind boggling "friend suggestion" tool with its digital clairvoyance, and the lack of control over being tagged in photos that others have posted of you.
So you can imagine my joy when within 5 seconds afer signing up, it was suggested that I become friends with a number of people I am in close acquaintance with, and I accept a dozen friend requests that were inexplicably waiting for me already.
Well, I managed to get over that within about 10 minutes. And as it turned out, that was just long enough for a friend to tag me in a few photos...huzzah!
Well, I welcome Facebook, my new Lord and Master. I hope to be a dilligent slave to its every need and whim.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Walk Softly and Carry a Big Schtick
Few will argue that one of the most important traits you should nourish in your children is a sense of humor. I have always tried to encourage this in my kids. They are now approaching the ages when their sense of humor matures beyond the obvious kid-based fare (toilet sounds, toilet words, etc) to more evolved content.
The other day I was getting the children prepared for bed. Brooke can be a bit lazy when it comes to picking out pyjamas. More often than not, her version of PJ's ends up being a piece of clothing (usually the shirt) that she has worn all day, and some pyjama bottoms added. Sometimes she just takes off her socks and tries to get away with going to bed like that. On this night, she decides that she will wear old sweat pants with a hole in the leg and a pyjama top. I tell her that she should not wear those pants outside the house any more, because she would look like a hobo. I use that word alot when chastising my kids for a dishevelled appearance. ("Did you brush your teeth?" "No." "Y'know hobos don't brush their teeth either, maybe you should be a hobo.", etc)
When I was a kid, I would be called a street urchin under the same circumstance. I never really knew what a street urchin was, I just knew it was bad. It didn't have a physical form in my mind. And because that was my view, I always kinda thought that my kids had the same limited vision of hobos. Not so.
Brooke's initial response was "I am NOT a hobo. Of course I wont wear these to school." This is predictable. Mitch on the other hand, comes storming into the bedroom wearing a wife-beater and underwear proclaiming "I want to be a hobo!, I could be a hobo."
Now frustrated by losing the limelight and being challenged for her attire, storms out of the room huffing, "Then go grow a beard...and....get a harmonica!"
Stomp, stomp, stomp, back to her room. And adding:
"...and a can with FIRE IN IT!"
*Slam*
Then. On the other side of her door. Giggling.
We all had a good laugh over that. I never really thought that the kids had an image in their head of an actual hobo. And the timing and delivery of Brooke's retort was just perfect.
In re-reading this, I see that the content is you-had-to-be-there ish. Too bad you weren't there.
The other day I was getting the children prepared for bed. Brooke can be a bit lazy when it comes to picking out pyjamas. More often than not, her version of PJ's ends up being a piece of clothing (usually the shirt) that she has worn all day, and some pyjama bottoms added. Sometimes she just takes off her socks and tries to get away with going to bed like that. On this night, she decides that she will wear old sweat pants with a hole in the leg and a pyjama top. I tell her that she should not wear those pants outside the house any more, because she would look like a hobo. I use that word alot when chastising my kids for a dishevelled appearance. ("Did you brush your teeth?" "No." "Y'know hobos don't brush their teeth either, maybe you should be a hobo.", etc)
When I was a kid, I would be called a street urchin under the same circumstance. I never really knew what a street urchin was, I just knew it was bad. It didn't have a physical form in my mind. And because that was my view, I always kinda thought that my kids had the same limited vision of hobos. Not so.
Brooke's initial response was "I am NOT a hobo. Of course I wont wear these to school." This is predictable. Mitch on the other hand, comes storming into the bedroom wearing a wife-beater and underwear proclaiming "I want to be a hobo!, I could be a hobo."
Now frustrated by losing the limelight and being challenged for her attire, storms out of the room huffing, "Then go grow a beard...and....get a harmonica!"
Stomp, stomp, stomp, back to her room. And adding:
"...and a can with FIRE IN IT!"
*Slam*
Then. On the other side of her door. Giggling.
We all had a good laugh over that. I never really thought that the kids had an image in their head of an actual hobo. And the timing and delivery of Brooke's retort was just perfect.
In re-reading this, I see that the content is you-had-to-be-there ish. Too bad you weren't there.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Egg-sperimentation
The other day a I came across a YouTube video of Gordon Ramsay (Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, The F word, etc) making scrambled eggs. I wanted to give it a watch for two reasons:
1) Whenever he has a new cook start in his kitchen, this is the "proving" dish he uses to determine their ability.
2) I have NEVER actually seen this guy actually cook anything. So far, he's all talk.
The recipe is simple, as it should be. Two Eggs, butter. You crack the eggs into a preheated pan, drop in the butter, and start stirring. And keep stirring.
Keep the eggs moving constantly, and as the pan heats the eggs, temper the process by removing it from the heat (still stirring). As the curds begin to form, keep adding and removing the heat until you have a cottage cheese-y consistency. Done.
What you are left with is a very moist, semi-dense mass that, although tasty, is not the fluffy consistency I like. I decided I would take a portion of what he was using, and add my own twist. The results were, in my opinion, fantastic.
The recipe is very similar, with a slight change:
-2 Eggs
-pat of butter
-1/2 tsp water
Why water? Well, it seems to help with egg volumization. The stirring and folding of the eggs that we do later creates air pockets that trap a small amount of the water and steams the egg. I have tried it without the water, and I find it to produce a denser, and slightly drier final product.
Another change, melt the butter in an 8" frying pan. Allow the butter to heat through. But don't burn it. If it turns brown, start again. Your pan is likely too hot if that happens.
Crack the eggs in a bowl. This serves 2 reasons. First, clumsy egg crackers will have a chance to remove any shell fragments before the eggs are in the pan. And it allows you to slightly stir the eggs. Not whisk with a fork as many people are likely to do, that blends the eggs into one single coloured substance that taste just fine once cooked, but are not the visual end product I'm looking for. Just mix the eggs with a spatula lightly until the yolks become broken and separated into a dozen or so strands. Don't over-mix.
Pour the mixture into the pan. Let it sit till you just can't see the bottom of the pan. Maybe 15 seconds. This is a good time to drop the toast in the toaster. Return to the pan and start pulling the egg from the sides toward the centre. Do this once or twice more or until most of the egg mixture has had contact with the pan.
Now, start folding the mixture while breaking it into smaller pieces. It will likely be necessary at this point to remove the pan from the heat. Stir and fold the mixture gently until you are left with a mound of what looks like moist popcorn. The moment that all of the egg has solidified into either yellow of white curds, immediately remove from the heat and serve.
I tried this on my kids this morning and is ANYBODY knows scrambled eggs, it's Brooke and Mitch. The eggs were a hit.
Perhaps not up to Gordon Ramsay's standards. But %*#@ him, as he would say.
1) Whenever he has a new cook start in his kitchen, this is the "proving" dish he uses to determine their ability.
2) I have NEVER actually seen this guy actually cook anything. So far, he's all talk.
The recipe is simple, as it should be. Two Eggs, butter. You crack the eggs into a preheated pan, drop in the butter, and start stirring. And keep stirring.
Keep the eggs moving constantly, and as the pan heats the eggs, temper the process by removing it from the heat (still stirring). As the curds begin to form, keep adding and removing the heat until you have a cottage cheese-y consistency. Done.
What you are left with is a very moist, semi-dense mass that, although tasty, is not the fluffy consistency I like. I decided I would take a portion of what he was using, and add my own twist. The results were, in my opinion, fantastic.
The recipe is very similar, with a slight change:
-2 Eggs
-pat of butter
-1/2 tsp water
Why water? Well, it seems to help with egg volumization. The stirring and folding of the eggs that we do later creates air pockets that trap a small amount of the water and steams the egg. I have tried it without the water, and I find it to produce a denser, and slightly drier final product.
Another change, melt the butter in an 8" frying pan. Allow the butter to heat through. But don't burn it. If it turns brown, start again. Your pan is likely too hot if that happens.
Crack the eggs in a bowl. This serves 2 reasons. First, clumsy egg crackers will have a chance to remove any shell fragments before the eggs are in the pan. And it allows you to slightly stir the eggs. Not whisk with a fork as many people are likely to do, that blends the eggs into one single coloured substance that taste just fine once cooked, but are not the visual end product I'm looking for. Just mix the eggs with a spatula lightly until the yolks become broken and separated into a dozen or so strands. Don't over-mix.
Pour the mixture into the pan. Let it sit till you just can't see the bottom of the pan. Maybe 15 seconds. This is a good time to drop the toast in the toaster. Return to the pan and start pulling the egg from the sides toward the centre. Do this once or twice more or until most of the egg mixture has had contact with the pan.
Now, start folding the mixture while breaking it into smaller pieces. It will likely be necessary at this point to remove the pan from the heat. Stir and fold the mixture gently until you are left with a mound of what looks like moist popcorn. The moment that all of the egg has solidified into either yellow of white curds, immediately remove from the heat and serve.
I tried this on my kids this morning and is ANYBODY knows scrambled eggs, it's Brooke and Mitch. The eggs were a hit.
Perhaps not up to Gordon Ramsay's standards. But %*#@ him, as he would say.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
For the sake of my country, I will stop watching the Olympics.
At least when Canada is competing. It feels like I am something of a pox for the Canadian athletes. More often than not, when I am watching the telecast of an Olympic event, our team loses. Oh sure, you could argue that there are others who are watching as much of the Olympics as I am and this surely can't be my fault. But I present for your assessment the following scenario. Sunday's hockey game between the American and Canadian men.
Spectators had barely taken their seats when USA pumps one in the net. Crap. Thinking I had time to run upstairs at tend to the seasoning of the broiling chicken wings, I leave the room and head to the kitchen, only to hear that the Canadians have scored. Good news, but what the hell? Why am I not allowed to see that? So I return to my seat only to witness a short time later a goal by the Americans. This continued as the game progressed. Leave the room to make dipping sauce for shrimp, Canada scores, return to my seat, Brodeur flops. I still regret not leaving the room during that last ditch effort by Canada at the end of the 3rd period. I may have been the reason we didn't tie it up.
Although, I am watching the live feed as I type this, and I see Canada's Ashleigh McIvor has won the gold medal in Ladies Ski Cross! Woohoo! So maybe I can be a spectator. But I will only use the Internet. Maybe it's the inherent time delay that saves our athletes from my bad mojo.
Spectators had barely taken their seats when USA pumps one in the net. Crap. Thinking I had time to run upstairs at tend to the seasoning of the broiling chicken wings, I leave the room and head to the kitchen, only to hear that the Canadians have scored. Good news, but what the hell? Why am I not allowed to see that? So I return to my seat only to witness a short time later a goal by the Americans. This continued as the game progressed. Leave the room to make dipping sauce for shrimp, Canada scores, return to my seat, Brodeur flops. I still regret not leaving the room during that last ditch effort by Canada at the end of the 3rd period. I may have been the reason we didn't tie it up.
Although, I am watching the live feed as I type this, and I see Canada's Ashleigh McIvor has won the gold medal in Ladies Ski Cross! Woohoo! So maybe I can be a spectator. But I will only use the Internet. Maybe it's the inherent time delay that saves our athletes from my bad mojo.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Does it HAVE to be a civet cat?
For those unaware, civet coffee, or Kopi Luwak, is made from beans that have been passed through the digestive tract of a civet cat. And no, this is not akin to sausage making, where the tract is removed, prepared and washed beforehand. The cat eats the beans, and then an appropriate amount of time later...poops the beans out. The beans are harvested and presumably washed, roasted, and ground for coffee.
As with many foods (black licorice, prairie oysters, haggis, human placenta) I'm sure that the early adopters of these items were unable to find any other food, or were completely insane. I mean, what circumstance would cause someone to pick through cat shit to get their morning fix of coffee?
[Somewhere in Africa] [interior kitchen] [morning]
"Dammit! Honey, Fluffy got into the coffee again!".
"Well you better figure out something, jackass. Because if I come downstairs and there isn't coffee, I'm gonna smash your Xbox!"
..later...
"Coffee's good. How come you're not having any?"
"Er... I had mine already"
My question is...why does it have to be a civet cat? Why do I have to wait for my shipment of 80-200 dollar per pot coffee. I want to set up my own Kopi Luwak coffee business right here in Canada. I'm sure it could work. I would just need somewhere to keep the cats because my wife isn't particualrly fond of cats. And everything I know about her tells me she would not be ok with a dozen or so cats walking around the house wearing diapers. Although I think extracing and washing the beans would be an excellent craft for the kids in her home daycare. So I suppose I could start small. Perhaps have someone board the cats for me. But that creates a staffing issue. I suppose I would be obligated to pay this person for their time. This is cutting in to profits.
My neighbor has a cat. Perhaps on one of the cat's trips into my yard I could jam a few beans into her. Then, when she comes back to poop, (and trust me, she will) I simply harvest the bounty. Full profit!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Birthday Full of WIN!
No no. Not MY birthday. My wife's.
In her world, my wife treats her birthday as a National Holiday. And not the North American "made up" ones that are created simply to round out the days off we get throughout the year. I'm talking about one of those old world, Chinese or Bolshevik celebrations that involve complex ceremonies and animal sacrifices. Entire villages gather in the public square and stand mute, facing East waiting for enlightenment from an unseen God. Those who avert their eyes, even briefly, are delighted to be beaten with sticks for their lack of faith.
The people of those villages have a fleeting understanding of the conviction the likes of which my wife has for her birthday.
This is not a critical assessment of her views. Far from it. I quite respect her devotion to treating herself special this one day a year. She, of all people, deserves it. She works very hard as a wife and mother, and a patient caregiver to the legions of snotty, screaming, toy scatterers she is charged with caring for.1
I have always struggled to contribute to Tannis' birthday happiness, but have more often come up short. I am not the best event planner or gift-giver. I find all to many of my gift ideas are tainted by what I think I would like to receive. And whenever I have tried to plan an event, it is often undermined by forces beyond my control. To make matters worse, she is excellent at these efforts. Her ability to plan and orchestrate a day is carried out with military precision. Although, instead of battle fatigues and a cigar, she does it with a stylish outfit and an iced tea.
This year was going to be different. It all started when I went to Canadian Tire to buy light bulbs. I walked past a post-Christmas sale display of kitchen appliances and saw an electric frying pan. Exactly what she has asked for. And before you judge me too harshly for appliance shopping for my wife for her birthday, trust me, an electric frying pan is one of the least offensive things on her shopping list. In past years she has asked for a mop, and a vacuum. So, gleeful in my find, I purchase the frying pan.
The next gift was an impulse purchase that I wasn't too sure about. I started the day shopping with the kids looking for a few baking items that, as it turns out, are only available from a company that does not ship to Canada. The birthday was only a week away at this point, so I decided that negotiating a borderside shipping proxy was going to take too long. So back in the car we hopped and head to Best Buy to check out another purchase option that I had thought of.
I don't need a voting button on this blog to know that the penis-based readers are nodding approval at my new choice of repertory in which to shop, where the penis-less readers are likely recoilling in horror. But I hadn't thought of this purchase strictly alone. I have been trying for a couple of years to put together a portable computer for my wife to use out of parts of non-functioning end-of-life systems from the office. And last year, just when I thought I had a working system for her, it died a quiet death after only 3 uses. She wanted a light-weight computer that she could use to check her e-mail and such while on the main floor, or up in the bedrooms. Enter: the HP Mini Netbook.
I was nervous to present it to her, thinking that she would find he screen to small, or the keyboard too diminutive. But as it turns out, she couldn't have been more pleased. Since opening it and configuring it, she has been using it almost constantly. Anybody that reads her Tweets knows that she has really been enjoying it. Technology FTW!
The last component was the birthday dinner. I have planned this type event in the past with varying degrees of mediocrity. Don't get me wrong, we have always had fun. But we always have fun, it's what we do. I would like just once to have her come home after one of these dinner outings and run upstairs to flop in her bed with her diary and catalog all of the swooning that she did that evening and then calling all of her friends to relate the tale. Last year we went to Homers Greek restaurant for dinner(moderate win), followed by glow in the dark mini-putt(measurable fail). I was hoping to find an event that would engage the kids, but I lost sight of the goal. This is Tannis' day.
This time I decided that I would take her out to dinner and invite a few of her friends. I made some calls, and got RSVP's from Nat, Toshya, and Ange. Nat (via Jacques) informed me that there was a Geocaching Pub Night at the Round Table that night. So I decided that to be the venue so that it would be easier for a few of our other friends to join her for drinks or dinner if they wished.
It is always a challenge to get my wife to do something on a schedule that isn't her own. But the fact that we had a reservation made it easier to be on time and it worked out perfectly. The surprise she showed on her face was worth all of the planning. And we had a wonderful dinner with some exceptional people.
I am lucky to have this woman in my life and look forward to celebrating many birthdays with her in the future. I already have a few ideas for next year...
1If any of the parents of the children in Tannis' care happen to read this, understand that I am not talking about your child. YOUR child is the epitome of grace and manners. There is not a quieter or healthier child on the face of God's earth.
In her world, my wife treats her birthday as a National Holiday. And not the North American "made up" ones that are created simply to round out the days off we get throughout the year. I'm talking about one of those old world, Chinese or Bolshevik celebrations that involve complex ceremonies and animal sacrifices. Entire villages gather in the public square and stand mute, facing East waiting for enlightenment from an unseen God. Those who avert their eyes, even briefly, are delighted to be beaten with sticks for their lack of faith.
The people of those villages have a fleeting understanding of the conviction the likes of which my wife has for her birthday.
This is not a critical assessment of her views. Far from it. I quite respect her devotion to treating herself special this one day a year. She, of all people, deserves it. She works very hard as a wife and mother, and a patient caregiver to the legions of snotty, screaming, toy scatterers she is charged with caring for.1
I have always struggled to contribute to Tannis' birthday happiness, but have more often come up short. I am not the best event planner or gift-giver. I find all to many of my gift ideas are tainted by what I think I would like to receive. And whenever I have tried to plan an event, it is often undermined by forces beyond my control. To make matters worse, she is excellent at these efforts. Her ability to plan and orchestrate a day is carried out with military precision. Although, instead of battle fatigues and a cigar, she does it with a stylish outfit and an iced tea.
This year was going to be different. It all started when I went to Canadian Tire to buy light bulbs. I walked past a post-Christmas sale display of kitchen appliances and saw an electric frying pan. Exactly what she has asked for. And before you judge me too harshly for appliance shopping for my wife for her birthday, trust me, an electric frying pan is one of the least offensive things on her shopping list. In past years she has asked for a mop, and a vacuum. So, gleeful in my find, I purchase the frying pan.
The next gift was an impulse purchase that I wasn't too sure about. I started the day shopping with the kids looking for a few baking items that, as it turns out, are only available from a company that does not ship to Canada. The birthday was only a week away at this point, so I decided that negotiating a borderside shipping proxy was going to take too long. So back in the car we hopped and head to Best Buy to check out another purchase option that I had thought of.
I don't need a voting button on this blog to know that the penis-based readers are nodding approval at my new choice of repertory in which to shop, where the penis-less readers are likely recoilling in horror. But I hadn't thought of this purchase strictly alone. I have been trying for a couple of years to put together a portable computer for my wife to use out of parts of non-functioning end-of-life systems from the office. And last year, just when I thought I had a working system for her, it died a quiet death after only 3 uses. She wanted a light-weight computer that she could use to check her e-mail and such while on the main floor, or up in the bedrooms. Enter: the HP Mini Netbook.
I was nervous to present it to her, thinking that she would find he screen to small, or the keyboard too diminutive. But as it turns out, she couldn't have been more pleased. Since opening it and configuring it, she has been using it almost constantly. Anybody that reads her Tweets knows that she has really been enjoying it. Technology FTW!
The last component was the birthday dinner. I have planned this type event in the past with varying degrees of mediocrity. Don't get me wrong, we have always had fun. But we always have fun, it's what we do. I would like just once to have her come home after one of these dinner outings and run upstairs to flop in her bed with her diary and catalog all of the swooning that she did that evening and then calling all of her friends to relate the tale. Last year we went to Homers Greek restaurant for dinner(moderate win), followed by glow in the dark mini-putt(measurable fail). I was hoping to find an event that would engage the kids, but I lost sight of the goal. This is Tannis' day.
This time I decided that I would take her out to dinner and invite a few of her friends. I made some calls, and got RSVP's from Nat, Toshya, and Ange. Nat (via Jacques) informed me that there was a Geocaching Pub Night at the Round Table that night. So I decided that to be the venue so that it would be easier for a few of our other friends to join her for drinks or dinner if they wished.
It is always a challenge to get my wife to do something on a schedule that isn't her own. But the fact that we had a reservation made it easier to be on time and it worked out perfectly. The surprise she showed on her face was worth all of the planning. And we had a wonderful dinner with some exceptional people.
I am lucky to have this woman in my life and look forward to celebrating many birthdays with her in the future. I already have a few ideas for next year...
1If any of the parents of the children in Tannis' care happen to read this, understand that I am not talking about your child. YOUR child is the epitome of grace and manners. There is not a quieter or healthier child on the face of God's earth.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Recipe - Pumpkin Curry Pasta
Had my mom coming over for dinner, and needed to come up with some unique gastroanomaly to serve. She's always bragging to me about how when she goes to my brother's place, they dine on these crazy delicious and adventuresome dishes like Hamster Cheeks in Brown Butter, or Roasted Goose wearing a sweater knit out of bacon.
A quick survey of the fridge comes up with an odd ingredient ... pumpkin. What can I do with you, my friend? I had once tasted a pumpkin ravioli that was very nice, but the supper hour was fast approaching and pasta takes too much time. Perhaps another style of pasta? Somewhere in the pantry is a bundle of squid ink spaghetti. But I quickly determined that the combination of blackish-gray spaghetti noodles with an orange sauce would become the grossest looking thing to ever grace a plate. I opt for mixing some cavatappi and ricotti noodles together as we have one serving of each of them remaining. Grabbing the 2 boxes of pasta and the coconut milk I needed for my sauce, I head to the cooktop to see what I can produce.
I dropped about 2 tablespoons of pumpkin into approximately 3/4 of a cup of coconut mik. I played with that ratio till I got the pumpkin intensity/color I was looking for. How to season this? Im not sure if it was due to the influence of the colour of the pumpkin, but my mind immediately jumped to curry. Problem is, aside from olives (more on this later) and beer, curry is the one thing that my wife doesn't like. I gave it much thought. I really tried to think of something else. But like a drunk reaching for his favorite bottle, it was muscule memory that guided my hand to the curry jar.
But I really didn't use much curry. Just enough to give it an essence of a land that, to the best of my knowledge, has never grown a pumpkin. Maybe a half teaspoon of medium yellow curry powder.
*taste*
Not bad. Needs a kick. How about some sort of spice? I remember a Thai green curry paste I had in the fridge. Yes! I put in a pea-sized granule, as I know this stuff has some legs to it. Perfect. Rootiness of the pumpkin, smoothness of the coconut, aroma of curry #1, and the heat from curry #2. But it needs something more...
Sweetness.
What do I use for that? Brown sugar? Molasses? What would my brother do? Hmm. He would have had sugar cane flown in from Hawaii the week before. My options are more regional. Honey! I grab the lavender honey and give the sauce enough to just round out the sweetness. I decide that I had best mix this together ahead of time and serve it "pasta salad" style. It was very nice. And even my wife had a small second helping! And I'm willing to bet that if I went home right now, that the leftover portion that we put in the fridge became her lunch.
I served it with tilapia fillets. I heated up the broiling pan ahead of time, dusted the fillets with a simple lemon pepper, brushed with olive oil, and did them in the oven. This preparation was fine for the family, but mom deserved something better. I decide to do a tapenede of sorts. Olives, lemon, olive oil, russian mustard, and cashews. I originally tweeted this recipe with pecans, I think. I am correcting myself now. I mashed this all together and put it on a couple of the fillets. Winner. It was delicious.
To round out the vegetable content, I sauteed young asparagus in olive oil I had flavored with garlic. Take that Kris!
It was nice to have the company of mom for a fun meal. Soon she'll be back in Regina. Maybe there's time for one more inventive supper...
A quick survey of the fridge comes up with an odd ingredient ... pumpkin. What can I do with you, my friend? I had once tasted a pumpkin ravioli that was very nice, but the supper hour was fast approaching and pasta takes too much time. Perhaps another style of pasta? Somewhere in the pantry is a bundle of squid ink spaghetti. But I quickly determined that the combination of blackish-gray spaghetti noodles with an orange sauce would become the grossest looking thing to ever grace a plate. I opt for mixing some cavatappi and ricotti noodles together as we have one serving of each of them remaining. Grabbing the 2 boxes of pasta and the coconut milk I needed for my sauce, I head to the cooktop to see what I can produce.
I dropped about 2 tablespoons of pumpkin into approximately 3/4 of a cup of coconut mik. I played with that ratio till I got the pumpkin intensity/color I was looking for. How to season this? Im not sure if it was due to the influence of the colour of the pumpkin, but my mind immediately jumped to curry. Problem is, aside from olives (more on this later) and beer, curry is the one thing that my wife doesn't like. I gave it much thought. I really tried to think of something else. But like a drunk reaching for his favorite bottle, it was muscule memory that guided my hand to the curry jar.
But I really didn't use much curry. Just enough to give it an essence of a land that, to the best of my knowledge, has never grown a pumpkin. Maybe a half teaspoon of medium yellow curry powder.
*taste*
Not bad. Needs a kick. How about some sort of spice? I remember a Thai green curry paste I had in the fridge. Yes! I put in a pea-sized granule, as I know this stuff has some legs to it. Perfect. Rootiness of the pumpkin, smoothness of the coconut, aroma of curry #1, and the heat from curry #2. But it needs something more...
Sweetness.
What do I use for that? Brown sugar? Molasses? What would my brother do? Hmm. He would have had sugar cane flown in from Hawaii the week before. My options are more regional. Honey! I grab the lavender honey and give the sauce enough to just round out the sweetness. I decide that I had best mix this together ahead of time and serve it "pasta salad" style. It was very nice. And even my wife had a small second helping! And I'm willing to bet that if I went home right now, that the leftover portion that we put in the fridge became her lunch.
I served it with tilapia fillets. I heated up the broiling pan ahead of time, dusted the fillets with a simple lemon pepper, brushed with olive oil, and did them in the oven. This preparation was fine for the family, but mom deserved something better. I decide to do a tapenede of sorts. Olives, lemon, olive oil, russian mustard, and cashews. I originally tweeted this recipe with pecans, I think. I am correcting myself now. I mashed this all together and put it on a couple of the fillets. Winner. It was delicious.
To round out the vegetable content, I sauteed young asparagus in olive oil I had flavored with garlic. Take that Kris!
It was nice to have the company of mom for a fun meal. Soon she'll be back in Regina. Maybe there's time for one more inventive supper...
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