Growth is near. The days smell like spring, the snow is melting at a steady pace, and green things are starting to appear. Perhaps this is partially the reason for my recent obsession with the prospect of farming. It's been occupying a healthy portion of my head space lately, and I've caught myself daydreaming of fresh veggies and dirty fingernails, and I've even starting writing notes about the farm I want to have someday. The ache I have for my own land might start taking over the rest of my life, and I'm not sure just how long I can fight it off...
Until I settle myself somewhere, though, I'll have to feed my addiction with experimentation and small scale projects within the limited space of a big city. The learning part of growing food is big and daunting, and so I'm fortunate to have others around willing to try new things, share their experiences, and let me take chances in the dirt.
Within a couple of days of moving to Toronto I had found a community garden to which I could devote some Saturdays. I'm not sure I would have survived the transition to this giant world of skyscrapers, starless skies, and public transit had I not had opportunity to dig and plant and harvest and love a piece of earth with people who needed to do the same.
And now begins the season for growing. Seeing tiny plants starting to grow inside, watching rhubarb poke up from the still mostly frozen soil, and being careful not to step on the garlic sprouts while sweeping the leafy mulch we covered the beds with in November. It was absolutely incredible to lift up the cold frames over plots of spinach and arugula and find small plants still growing - nature is powerful, and if I didn't know it before (I did), I certainly know now.
More than just discovery though, I'm glad to have opportunities to learn from other gardeners, and luckily we're all pretty open to trying new things. There are few rigid rules, and we've been talking about changes and improvements we can make to the garden, and new tactics we'd like to try. For one, how to figure out how to grow greens up a wall, and another, where on earth to put the raspberries! There are few easy answers, but that's part of the fun!
All of these new ideas and opportunities are having a swirling-around effect in my head, and underneath my rational and safe life plan I've half-established for myself, I'm starting to be fettered by a deep desire to drop it all and start working the land full time. I know this isn't something I'm ready to do right now - commitments, hovering student loan burdens, and a sincere need for quality practical learning opportunities are all standing in the way. But until these things are no longer obstacles, I'll have to settle, and learn and, continue to be excited about spring and the renewing of life.
And really, that's the easy part.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Kitchens Abroad
I am first an eater, and second a traveller. I say this as a reflection of a recent trip I took with a number of work colleagues to Yellowknife, NWT, and Olympia and Seattle, in Washington state. Leading up to my trip, I was preoccupied with the details of the work side of things, but once I arrived in cold, cold Yellowknife I was determined to take advantage of the Northern food experience.
So, I want to write about my travels through the eyes of an eater. I made a point of trying things I wasn't likely to get anywhere else (at least not easily), even to the point of initiating small protests within the group of where we should go, and what we should eat for dinner. (For example, I refused to eat at Boston Pizza - it's lousy food at the best of times, and I could eat there any time I wanted. I didn't travel to Yellowknife to do the same old thing. Luckily, I ended up having some company, and wasn't subjected to the blandness of a "dinner for one," which I was decidedly prepared to subject myself to.)
Yellowknife, being farther north than most Canadians have ever been, has access to a menu different from what I am used to. I have never leaned to the carnivorous end of the spectrum, but wild game and fish are the most seasonal, and regional foods in the North. Reading a travel guide, someone in our group stumbled upon a restaurant, The Black Knight Pub, that served caribou burgers for something like $15.95 a piece. This was the most expensive pub burger I have ever laid eyes on, but I instantly decided I must eat this! Caribou was new, and it was food, and I was in Yellowknife, and it had to be mine.
We arrived at the restaurant after a long day of meetings. I was tired, a little cranky, but I was going to eat something new. Excitement was bubbling over as I anticipated caribou, and I didn't even open the menu.
"We're out of caribou" said the waitress when I confidently placed my order. "How about bison instead?" she finished. No caribou?! A brief and mild panic rushed over my hungry belly, but I quickly agreed. I had never eaten bison, I was in the north, and caribou wasn't available. At least it wasn't beef.
Caribou, I'm told is tender and delicious, and a knife isn't necessary. I have one more excuse (among many!) to head north at least one more time in my life.
Bison, when prepared for a plate, looks like beef (photo left). I half expected it to taste just like beef, but of course, it didn't. It wasn't as heavy as beef, though it was gamey-er, and so delicious. I chewed slowly, and tasted every bite while I thought of snow and ice and where this animal had been in its life.
Aside from the land mammals, Yellowknife is also known for its fish. It sits on the northern shore of Great Slave Lake and the territory resides on the Arctic ocean. Fish, therefore, is a large part of the northern diet. The day before we left, we were told by a regular visitor to Yellowknife that the very best place in all of North America to get fish and chips is a little shack in the old part of the city called Bullocks Bistro. I chatted with the cook for a little while, and was informed that they serve nothing but the freshest -- they fish year-round, through holes in the ice and when they run out of the catch of the day they don't have any back-up stock. Their arctic char is fished off the northern coast, and is flown in. It's similar to salmon in look and in taste, but smoother, a little less flaky, and softer. It was absolutely wonderful.
Had I spent more time there, I would have loved to eat more. (Arguably, I would have had to.) But we soon headed to much different climate, with different taste-ular sensations ready and waiting.
Olympia, WA was a wonderful place. We arrived with rumbly tumblies, and went searching for food. We found more than food. We found beer.
A local brewery in the heart of the city was an excellent introduction to the west-coast food scene. An American friend of mine once pointed out that while living in Canada, one thing she missed was the abundance of local breweries. I understand why.
The brew at the right is the India Pale Ale. What intrigued me about the menus description was its mention of the words "lush floral aroma" and "distinct citrus flavour." The taste was true to this description, and the subtlety of these sensations almost took me by surprise - a beer could be flower-y, citrus-y, AND beer-y. Food is amazing.
Eating in restaurants for a week is tough. But believe it or not (and judging from the subjects covered thus far in this post, perhaps "not" is the more likely suspicion), I didn't just eat pub food and drink beer. While in Seattle, I had a fabulous time exploring the market, and seeing how creative people are with food. Let me share this...
This photo (left) is only a small corner of this open-air shop at the Pike Place Market in Seattle. The makers, I'm sure, had fun stringing specialty food like hot and spicy peppers, aromatic herbs and flowers, and bitey garlic on these beautiful strands. They hung from the ceiling, and customers had to dodge and duck as they strolled through in admiration.
We also saw cheese being made in a huge "open vat" (see photo below) at Beecher's Handmade Cheese shop. Had I not been travelling, I would have likely spent a small fortune there. The milk is pure, the cows untreated with hormones and antibiotics, and visitors (or for the more enthusiastic we could use the term "spectators") can witness the process. I've become mildly obsessed with the cheese making process and am still trying to figure it out. (I've managed to commit myself to learning how to make cheese, and then actually doing so by the end of April.) I gaped and gawked until I had to pry myself away.
(When sharing these photos with a friend who is equally as excited by food as I am, she was not so much excited with the cheese making process, but more with the size of the vat. She explained that she gets extremely excited about over sized kitchen equipment. It's on of her endearing qualities, really.)
I used to travel excited to take photos. I now travel excited to take photos of food. The world is a big place with lots of variety, and I've got a long way to go to get even a small taste of all that is out there. Next on the list...France?
So, I want to write about my travels through the eyes of an eater. I made a point of trying things I wasn't likely to get anywhere else (at least not easily), even to the point of initiating small protests within the group of where we should go, and what we should eat for dinner. (For example, I refused to eat at Boston Pizza - it's lousy food at the best of times, and I could eat there any time I wanted. I didn't travel to Yellowknife to do the same old thing. Luckily, I ended up having some company, and wasn't subjected to the blandness of a "dinner for one," which I was decidedly prepared to subject myself to.)
Yellowknife, being farther north than most Canadians have ever been, has access to a menu different from what I am used to. I have never leaned to the carnivorous end of the spectrum, but wild game and fish are the most seasonal, and regional foods in the North. Reading a travel guide, someone in our group stumbled upon a restaurant, The Black Knight Pub, that served caribou burgers for something like $15.95 a piece. This was the most expensive pub burger I have ever laid eyes on, but I instantly decided I must eat this! Caribou was new, and it was food, and I was in Yellowknife, and it had to be mine.
We arrived at the restaurant after a long day of meetings. I was tired, a little cranky, but I was going to eat something new. Excitement was bubbling over as I anticipated caribou, and I didn't even open the menu.
"We're out of caribou" said the waitress when I confidently placed my order. "How about bison instead?" she finished. No caribou?! A brief and mild panic rushed over my hungry belly, but I quickly agreed. I had never eaten bison, I was in the north, and caribou wasn't available. At least it wasn't beef.
Caribou, I'm told is tender and delicious, and a knife isn't necessary. I have one more excuse (among many!) to head north at least one more time in my life.
Bison, when prepared for a plate, looks like beef (photo left). I half expected it to taste just like beef, but of course, it didn't. It wasn't as heavy as beef, though it was gamey-er, and so delicious. I chewed slowly, and tasted every bite while I thought of snow and ice and where this animal had been in its life.Aside from the land mammals, Yellowknife is also known for its fish. It sits on the northern shore of Great Slave Lake and the territory resides on the Arctic ocean. Fish, therefore, is a large part of the northern diet. The day before we left, we were told by a regular visitor to Yellowknife that the very best place in all of North America to get fish and chips is a little shack in the old part of the city called Bullocks Bistro. I chatted with the cook for a little while, and was informed that they serve nothing but the freshest -- they fish year-round, through holes in the ice and when they run out of the catch of the day they don't have any back-up stock. Their arctic char is fished off the northern coast, and is flown in. It's similar to salmon in look and in taste, but smoother, a little less flaky, and softer. It was absolutely wonderful.
Had I spent more time there, I would have loved to eat more. (Arguably, I would have had to.) But we soon headed to much different climate, with different taste-ular sensations ready and waiting.
Olympia, WA was a wonderful place. We arrived with rumbly tumblies, and went searching for food. We found more than food. We found beer.A local brewery in the heart of the city was an excellent introduction to the west-coast food scene. An American friend of mine once pointed out that while living in Canada, one thing she missed was the abundance of local breweries. I understand why.
The brew at the right is the India Pale Ale. What intrigued me about the menus description was its mention of the words "lush floral aroma" and "distinct citrus flavour." The taste was true to this description, and the subtlety of these sensations almost took me by surprise - a beer could be flower-y, citrus-y, AND beer-y. Food is amazing.
Eating in restaurants for a week is tough. But believe it or not (and judging from the subjects covered thus far in this post, perhaps "not" is the more likely suspicion), I didn't just eat pub food and drink beer. While in Seattle, I had a fabulous time exploring the market, and seeing how creative people are with food. Let me share this...
This photo (left) is only a small corner of this open-air shop at the Pike Place Market in Seattle. The makers, I'm sure, had fun stringing specialty food like hot and spicy peppers, aromatic herbs and flowers, and bitey garlic on these beautiful strands. They hung from the ceiling, and customers had to dodge and duck as they strolled through in admiration.We also saw cheese being made in a huge "open vat" (see photo below) at Beecher's Handmade Cheese shop. Had I not been travelling, I would have likely spent a small fortune there. The milk is pure, the cows untreated with hormones and antibiotics, and visitors (or for the more enthusiastic we could use the term "spectators") can witness the process. I've become mildly obsessed with the cheese making process and am still trying to figure it out. (I've managed to commit myself to learning how to make cheese, and then actually doing so by the end of April.) I gaped and gawked until I had to pry myself away.
(When sharing these photos with a friend who is equally as excited by food as I am, she was not so much excited with the cheese making process, but more with the size of the vat. She explained that she gets extremely excited about over sized kitchen equipment. It's on of her endearing qualities, really.)I used to travel excited to take photos. I now travel excited to take photos of food. The world is a big place with lots of variety, and I've got a long way to go to get even a small taste of all that is out there. Next on the list...France?
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