food

Spicy Harvest

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Yep, crop gathering in the backyard.  Many herbs, peppers and fruit.  Now, it’s time to preserve my gems for the long cold winter. If leaves are falling, can snow be far behind?

The reason we had such a bumper crop this year is due to the massive rainfall we had in early summer. I’m not sure if it was a record, but we had almost double the normal amount for July. Then came our late warm summer – it’s nearly October and I’m still outside drinking my morning coffee in me skivvies  (the best undies on the planet). Just last week we had over plus twenty temperatures for the whole week. Whooohooo. Slap on the sunnies and lotion. The weather combination means an amazing autumn crop.

My herb crop was:  basil, oregano, thyme, rosemary, sage and parsley. I picked up sage late, just so I could say – parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme (check out the song). The first three, I dried over the summer months, filling two large jars. The rosemary is still happy in the garden, so have at ‘er. I had a massive amount of basil, so from pesto, to salads, to margarita pizza to caprese to whatever – it did not go to waste. I also froze some ice cube pesto for whenever. The kitchen smelt like a spice spa all summer. The dried sage is for the Thanksgiving turkey.

My peppers were also amazing – yellow banana, jalapeno, and habanero.  The yellow I just chopped up and put in salads as soon as they were ready. With the jalapenos, I made salsa and pickled them (along with the yellow). Now the habanero were an issue. I’m past the days when I would eat hot peppers whole just on a dare – me stomach and bottom half has burning issues.  Then I found this fantastic recipe for habanero sauce. Deliciosa! I watered it down a bit with a can of fire roasted tomatoes and removed some seeds. Not too spicy. I also had some leftover and yes you can freeze them – remove stems, air tight ziplock.

Now my final crop – apples. The tree only gives fruit every couple of years, so I’d hate to see them go to waste – although the critters love the fruit. However, I find them very bland to eat raw. The squirrels and birds must have a different palette. I have a ton and I don’t know what to do with them.  Apple sauce? Apple Cider? I can fortify the fruit with honey and make an excellent energy meal for my long runs or hikes or bikes. I’m sure the kiddies might like the sauce (or hooch) as well. I will need to test. Much honey. The youngins’ do not have rodent tastes.

Ok, gotta run and find out what to do with those apples. And in case you’re wondering because I was: Spicy poop. “Yes, spicy food can lead to soft poop or diarrhea because it contains capsaicin, which irritates the digestive tract and speeds up intestinal contractions. This can result in a quicker passage of food through the gut, often leading to loose stools. ” Who woulda known?

One final reminder – use gloves with the hot peppers. My nose is still burning as if I did a 10k barefoot walk on desert pavement.

 

Vancouver Walk and Eat – 2025

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So many things to like about Vancouver (unless you need to buy a house) – the transportation, the food and the ability to walk everywhere. Let’s get to them all.

First the transportation. Before I left, I registered my Compass Card (leftover from my last visit) and added some funds. Note: when you leave the airport, just tap the card. I bought a ticket from the machine with my card – 9.85. On the way back I tapped in from downtown and airport out – cost 3.85, the two zone fare (not totally sure why). Get the transit card, so convenient for all your travels. And if you need a car, check out EVO – they are everywhere.  However, we also walked, walked and walked (over 38k steps one day – a new personal record) in the pouring rain. Yea to the Gortex shoes and jacket.

Next the food. Oh my goodness, so good. Our first meal was in Gastown at GUU, just down from Waterfront station. We started with the Takowasa – marinated octopus and wasabi – served w/ 6 pieces of roasted seaweed – a very small portion but the wasabi didn’t peel the insides of my nostrils so that’s good. Next, we had the Salmon With Seven Friends – diced wild sockeye salmon w/ natto (fermented soy beans), pickled cucumber, pickled daikon, garlic chips, crispy wonton, green onion, fresh egg yolk, “otokomae” and roasted seaweed.  Just mix and wrap in seaweed strips, yummy. We finished with Grilled Salmon Bento Box with a daily side dish, rice, and miso soup. We ordered an extra miso so we wouldn’t start throwing punches. The grilled salmon was huge and coming from the prairies I need all the salmon I can get. With tip, we walked out paying a reasonable 50 bucks for two people. Gotta love the price.

We were going to see a movie, so a quick stop in Chinatown and Bao Bei.  We arrived a little early and it was already lined up. Luckily, we were number one (stink-eyeing any line butting persons), rewarded with a nice high top near the door (twenty minutes later, the place was packed). We started with the Bean Curd – amazing. Then on to the Beef Tartre – more amazing – then the Kick Ass Fried Rice, Steamed Prawn, Scallop and Chive Dumplings all amazing, amazing. We didn’t try any of the cocktails (sober trip), but we were close to the bar, and they looked fun. Ok, I’ve used the “amazing” adjective a lot, but it was. All in for two of us – 165. A bit pricey but well worth the experience.

Ok, it’s Vancouver and one must do sushi. I live on the prairies where fresh seafood is about as common as a Liberal vote. We went to a Yaletown spot called Oshi Nori . A small cozy spot with only a sushi bar. We had Truffle Edamame (I’ll eat anything with truffle) and all the Toro and Salmon Nigiri on the menu . We also sampled the 5 Roll Basic Set (served taco style – wrapped in seaweed). A nasty scene as we wrestled for the last piece (even numbers, please).  125, for two hungry lads. Pricey, but a very happy tummy indeed.

The biggest food trip take away –  from my house on the other side of the Rockies, I was in  downtown Vancouver eating sushi in two and a half hours. Mind boggling. I’m already planning my next walk ‘n eat  journey with my amazing travelling companion who has an excellent nose where to go.

Canmore Walk and Eat

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Ok, so we left early afternoon and walked into town with happy hour feet. First, Murietta’s, our one-time favourite spot.  However – rejection. The happy hour beer was flat and dull with an equal nastiness for the three-dip appetizer we ordered.  The intention was pita bread, but it was nothing more than a limp mass of dough. Our pleasant server brought a glass of Rose, but how long was it sitting on the shelf?  Roman times? They did bring another glass of wine not on the happy hour menu and only charged the happy hour price. And the view? Our whole intention of going to the place. Clean the streaking, dirty windows please. I was afraid of this. Ruined. The place has gone downhill. However, we will always have the first time we went there (cost 24 bucks).

After major disappointment, we went to The Wood at the end of Main Street. While it doesn’t have Murietta’s gorgeous view, it still offers great mountain scenery. We had a Sheep Dog IPA (local and very tasty) and a Riesling. We also shared the enjoyable Tuna Stack – avocado, mango, tuna, sprouts, cilantro, and deep-fried wonton for spreading (cost 46 bucks).

Then we walked down to the Malcom Hotel and went for a drink at the Stirling (nice digs – lots of wood and very shiny new). Half price wine Wednesday. Ok, me likey this. We ordered a Chablis off the featured wine list (only half price from here), but they ran out. The accommodating manager said, order anything we’ll do half price. Ok, another bottle of yummy Chablis. I should’ve tasted the food, but I wasn’t all that hungry after the earlier beer and food. We will come back for the Wednesday wine (cost-54 bucks).

The night before we went out for dinner to a place literally across the street from our condo – Bridgette bar. I had a couple of “Blindman” porters (and a local charming cider – Marty McDry). Not too shabby for a beer near Deadmonton (Lacombe). We shared some eggplant fries (very good) and the salami pizza. I loved the crust – firewood oven baked with an amazing  drizzle of honey. The meat not so – a bit greasy (but I gotta say I’m not one for meat on my pizza).  I also had the Roasted Octopus salad. Not what I expected – the mollusk swimming (literally) in a very vinegary laden dressing with thinly sliced cucumber on top. I wouldn’t order again. I would, however, love to try the elk carpaccio. And the place was hopping for a Tuesday night. Good libations and I’d love to go back and try other items off a very interesting menu (cost – 97 bucks).

All in all, the total cost of an excellent night out, just walking around and doing happy hours – 125 bucks.  Another hundred bucks the night before. Not too shabby for two nights out. Another motive for our stay was – can I park my car and just walk? The answer an emphatic yes. The car didn’t move for two days. We got up and went for some very nice walks around town with the Three Sisters forever in our sight. A new haunt, for sure.

Oh strange food

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Food, Food, Fooood, wonderful food, wonderful food. Food. Food. Food. I love food. Making food. Ordering food. Going out for food. I don’t care how it comes. I’ve even had dreams about food like the time I was chased by a giant purple lobster. As a result, I am not afraid of food. I’ve had many strange experiences with food. But I’ve never spat out anything – how rude.

A while back, I was working for the Cosmo-Demonic-Telecommunication company when they sent me on a trip to Thailand. When you travel to Asian countries on business, the company hires a guide to show you around town. The first night we went out and had traditional Thai food. I can’t remember everything we ate, but I do remember rice cooked in pineapple and giant lobsters without claws. I also learnt that Thais do not use chopsticks.  I’m not sure why, but the next time you order Pad Thai … 

However, the next night, the guide asked if we wanted to try some more dangerous food. I was travelling in a group with five or six other dudes. When we got to the restaurant, the first thing I saw was a giant snake dangling from a hook. An employee was running a knife down its belly, guts slopping on the floor. But not to waste, he gathered the innards and threw them in a pail. Ok, this looks promising (not).

Inside, we gathered around a table. Menus, of course were useless. I’m not sure if they were written in Thai or Chinese. The restaurant was the latter, I think. The guide ordered for the table. We had ant eggs – giant white pill looking objects. Then we had snake (not sure if it was hanging buddy downstairs).  Not too bad – tasted like dry pork ribs. However, the weird thing was the wine glass of blood brought to the table. The guide got angry when the waiter brought the drink, but we said don’t worry. Down the hatch. Warm and thick like a metallic milk shake. Apparently good for men. I felt my bicep increase. The food wasn’t too bad, but I don’t think I’d eat it daily and I don’t think the locals did. 

My next interesting delicacy was in New Zealand. We were invited on to the Marae (a meeting place for social and religious celebrations), a great privilege. Every day, behind the meeting house, We had a wonderful “happy” hour. We were talking and drinking excellent wine when this dude brings out these spiny looking creatures, cuts one open and the guts fall in his hand. He threw it down his gullet as though he were kicking off a jandle at the front door.  Sea urchin or Tuhinga o mua in Māori.  He looked at me, you want some, brother? I sure do. It tasted like swallowing a giant hoark left over from a bad cold. But I’d defiantly do it again. Yep, I’d eat just about anything. Once. Scorpion pizza. Sheep eye-ball soup. However, my only rule is it can’t be moving. Dipping my spoon into a bowl of crawling baby snakes, just isn’t my cup of tea. 

Ok, I gotta run upstairs and cook some grub. I’m thinking pineapple pork ribs, rice and cucumber.

Burning Down the House

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The greatest  gift to give a teenager (so they say) is teaching them how to cook. The obvious benefit is an option from throwing bad food in a microwave.  Another is precious time away from a screen and spending gleeful hours with a potential filled young person. You can make a difference. Ok, so I got that off a parenting website, “Teenage Monsters.”

Anyway, my niece came over a while back and together we made carbonara and Caesar salad  with homemade bread. The only problem with the carbonara is while cooking the pancetta, it got very smoky in the house. Our fire alarm started screaming like a banshee. Now we have a security system, meaning when the alarm goes off, we usually get a call from the company and if they can’t reach us, hotline to emergency services.

Weirdly,  I didn’t get a call or notice on my phone.  We kept looking out the window while waving towels over the alarm – not sure if the fire department was called or not. All our doors and windows were open, even though it was below freezing.  Every fan blasting on max. Then we heard sirens blaring with lights a- flashing.  The big red trucks stopped in front of our house. Curtains open, nosy eyes, chins a-wagging with,  Hey look they have an alarm system, the idiots.

My niece ever the brave one,  ran for cover shouting: “Don’t tell them I’m here.”  “What?” I said. “They’re firemen, not cops. And you watch too much TV.”  Ok this has potential for learning lesson number two, but before I could take her outside she ran, tail between her legs,  flying  down the  basement stairs.

Left alone, I went outside in my slippers and wool socks and explained to the very understanding firemen:

“Sorry, we were making carbonara and cooking the bacon (not sure they’d know pancetta), but then boom too much smoke. I musta missed the call from our security company. I am really sorry.”

“You used bacon? Not they way I make it.  I use pancetta,” said the fireman, smirking.

“Yea, next time I’ll use pancetta. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Dinner was saved?” asked the fireman.

“Yep.”

“Then all is good. You’re safe and so is dinner. That’s all that matters.”

“Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem,” said the very understanding high-res man, “better a nice chat on the sidewalk then pulling bodies out.” (Ok he didn’t really say that, but)

I turned and walked  back into our pancetta lingering freezing cold house.  I checked my phone. The alarm company called but I didn’t hear the ring (curse you fruit company). I want to go over to the firehall and cook them dinner with my niece out of appreciation.

A few weeks later, however,  I got a letter from the fire department. Your first alarm is free. After that five hundred bucks for the second call and then a thousand for the third. My first thought, Do I really need an alarm? Second thought, maybe we’ll order carbonara and I’ll teach my niece how to pay with my credit card. Oh wait, that’s a lesson she knows very well.

Sober thoughts

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I don’t go to AA (alcoholics anonymous) although I have considered the option more than once. Who doesn’t during that morning after when your head feels like soccer ball batted around by Liverpool? I also think it’s a great organization that’s saved millions of lives. However, I do like to go “dry” several times a year. A plight that’s been particularly hard recently.

On a monthly dry surge, I ran into a few problems in places that sell alcohol. I get it. Restaurants and bars make a lot of money from booze and in these pandemic times, they need all the extra cash they can get. A reason why I always tip twenty-five percent. At least. (Even if I know my salad was just dragged across the floor.)

Recently, I went out for dinner at a popular pizza chain. A pleasant server came to the table and asked if anyone wanted something to drink. One person ordered a very over-priced glass of wine (I get it. Money. Pandemic.). Another asked for a something and coke. The daily special. Reasonable price if you don’t mind drinking alcohol, you could start your truck with. When it was my turn, I asked, “Do you have any alcohol-free beer?”  The poor server looked at me as thought I just got off the Martian shuttle. I ordered a diet soda.

The next night we went to a bar in the hotel where we were staying. This time I ordered a virgin Caesar – Clamato juice (Ok who came up with this? Some dude is sitting on a sunny patio, drinking tomato juice when an epiphany sounds, “You know what this drink needs? Clam juice.”), tabasco, spices and rimmed with salt.  The drink is also garnished with salad on a stick. This one, had a pickle, spicy green bean and celery. Now, the virgin, of course, means no vodka. With one of these sexless babies on the table you fly right under the sloppy, slurring radar, no one has a clue you’re sober.

However, my second drink was a bit of a scare. I ordered a soda with ice and lime. The thought here was a mock vodka and soda – the calorie conscious drink of the year. But the server brought the drink in a massive cup, super big gulp size. Not very inconspicuous. One look at this drink and, “Hey buddy maybe you need a meeting.”

Now, yea you’re right. I shouldn’t give a shit what other people think. And really, I don’t. But perhaps owners, bartenders and servers should have a bit of sensitivity. If a person orders a non-alcoholic drink. There’s a reason. Not only for health reasons, but the a sober person doesn’t want to be excluded from the excitement of vomiting, slurred words and a million “I love you, man.” Owners, managers, it’s not a big deal to have an alcohol free beer. Even Mexico has an NA beer. And that’s saying something.

NB: This Naked Mind is also a wonderful resource for quitting or slowing down alcohol use.

 

COVID Clampdown in Banff

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So we’re sitting around watching some predictable and boring show on Netflix when I say, “Hey I can get us into the Rimrock for a hundred and sixty a night.” Now the Rimrock is a very posh hotel in Banff,  Alberta – warm bathrobes, slippers and a chocolate on the pillow. (I’m sure they’ve junked all those amenities due to COVID. Who sneezed on the chocolate? Perspiration on the robe? I’m surprised you don’t have to bring your own sheets.) I recheck the price. It’s in American dollars, so one sixty is like a million Canadian. The plan is sinking faster than a Rocky Mountain boulder in Lake Vermilion.

I check again. A small condo at the place we love (Rocky Mountain Resorts) with a separate entrance, fireplace and kitchen is on for a reduced price of one twenty in the Queen’s dollars. A pop up, “Type snowday for a twenty percent discount.” Whooohoo!  A hundred bucks a night and we can bring the little dog and our own food. Yes please. The poor town is suffering due to COVID.  It’s my patriotic duty to help, right? Let the snowday begin.

Now the only rub is I’m in the middle of my “Dryuary” (no booze for the month – my Christamas liver is close to pickled) and I’ve never and I mean NEVER sat in front of a fire (condo or otherwise) without a glass of wine, single malt or beer.  Never. It’ll be a challenge but I’m up for it (for the sake of the town, right?). The next morning we pack up our gear and hit the road. Little dog is in the back seat panting and doing her, “We there yet? We there yet? It’s so hot back here. We there yet?” This lasts the entire hour and a half drive. You’d think she hadn’t had a drink in a month.

Arrival and lunch at our favourite bakery (Wild Flour). We eat in our vehicle while overlooking the frozen Bow River. Breathtaking. Up to this point no contact except to grab lunch and walk it to the car. The town is so dead I feel sorry for all the business owners and employees. Masks everywhere. No mask. No service. Very strict here in the Canadian wilds.

We get to the hotel. Check in is quick. It’s Tuesday at two in the afternoon. Quiet time indeed. We get to the room. Take care of some business and we go for a walk. Normally we use the road behind the hotel. But the town’s had a major snow storm and every ten minutes a gravel truck filled with snow zooms past us. I’m afeared for the little dog. One slip and she’s a new pair kid’s slippers at the Rimrock. I pick her up and dash home.

At home after I get the fire going, I prepare some lovely charcuterie for a session by the fire. Another first.  I’ve NEVER eaten cheese, cured meat, baguette, pickles and fig jam without a nice glass of vino. I’m starting to sweat. Tea. I make some tea. It goes very well with the cheeseboard. Relax. I can do this. Time to break some traditions. New associations. Chamomile and charcuterie.

We hike the next day. Not a single soul on the trail. Well except for a lonely male elk. Midweek – excellent for social distancing. The COVID clampdown is great – barely no contact. We eat inside or order take out. The suite has it’s own entrance so no contact with people in the hall. I consider the gym but I walk and hike instead. The trails are calm and quiet. It’s not only midweek but winter so the vacation spot is nearly dead. In summer you have to step over people to get anywhere. The best part? Who knew that chamomile and cured meat is a match made in sobriety.