Bake with abandon!
Corwin Hiebert spoke at the Food Bloggers of Canada Conference in Vancouver last month. Although he’s not a blogger, he observed that over time bloggers can become tied to their computers. In the process, they lose their enthusiasm, their passion, their curiosity. They slip slowly from Active Participants to …
I am ambivalent about labels. They’re (usually) handy if you want to know if your shirt needs dry cleaning or how much fibre your bran cereal contains. They are less useful when applied to humans. In fact, I’d argue they are misleading. I’ve known Monica Bhide for …
Ignore the calendar. Don’t point to the red and orange maple trees or their fallen leaves that smother the grass. Pumpkins hold no proof. No, Autumn doesn’t arrive with the weather, or gourds, or the solstice. It arrives with mice. Each year, the rodents that feast on …
It’s been a busy week. On Monday a group of food bloggers celebrated Messy Baker Monday, bombarding the Internet with reviews, recipes, photos and virtual flour dust. I’m still finding drips of icing here and there. Today I’m making my debut on CBC’s Steven and …
The next time someone tells you the world is an awful place and that the Internet is turning us all into mean, self-obsessed trolls, show them this post. Today is Messy Baker Monday. I didn’t invent it. I didn’t cook this up as a PR scheme …
Phyllo is that shattery pastry found wrapped around many Greek and Middle Eastern treats. Thin as tissue paper, it’s notoriously hard to make from scratch. While it has a reputation of being finicky to work with, it’s surprisingly co-operative if you treat it graciously. I didn’t …
The Messy Baker launched two weeks ago today. I’m not sure where the time has gone, but since the book’s release I’ve hosted a garden party book launch, been on stage with Kim Severson at the Decatur Book Festival in Georgia, found myself on the …
The weather has cooled just as I feel squashed against the ceiling of my baking limit. At a time when I can’t face another bag of flour or brick of butter, the overnight temperatures dip to chilly, pull-up-the-blankets digits. I awake to the hum of the furnace, the tip of …
Sunday came and went in a book signing blur. One minute I’m smoothing table cloths, straightening serviette stacks and calmly telling my sister there’s plenty of time before we should put the cookies out. The next, I’m barking orders at anyone within ear shot to get …