Bake with abandon!
First there was Lex Luther, The Joker and Mr X. Then came Dr. Horrible and his malevolent idol Bad Horse, The Thoroughbred of Sin. I’m fortunate to have never come across such terrifying evil doers. Some say I remain unscathed because I live a quiet …
These are some of the ingredients that go into what my husband calls “That Orange Beef Stew Thing You Make.” I call it Braised Beef with Orange and Tarragon but who am I to quibble? He likes it. I like it. Our guests like it. …
Two years ago, almost to the day, I went maple syruping at a friend’s farm. (Click the link! Go on. Not only will you learn how it’s done, there’s a photo of a really handsome dog.) The sky was overcast but the air was damp. …
It’s Shrove Tuesday and everyone’s flipping pancakes and frying fritters. Me? I’m trying my hand at crostoli — a crispy, fried dough so light it’s almost like you’re not eating. Variations appear throughout Europe with different names and different shapes, but the distinctive blistered dough …
Be careful what you wish for. Earlier I begged for sunshine, and lots of it, as I gobbled blood oranges as fast as I could peel them. I should have specified “with warm temperatures.” Mother Nature granted my request— in letter, not spirit. For the …
my Favourite Oatmeal Cookies I’ve decided to embrace winter. Not with skis or a toboggan. But with my imagination. When I scan the colourless world around me, I see myself as an astronaut floating in space — only I’m weaving about a universe where the …
Not everyone reads the comments section, so I thought I’d start a separate post to share the conversation I’ve been having with Barbara about chicken stock. Barbara has moved to a small apartment and is re-learning to make stock without $7 stewing hens and a …
These are for my sister. She doesn’t know it yet, but they’ll arrive at her door later today in a box with some pathetic attempt at a heart drawn on the lid. She’s in the middle of the Kitchen Reno from Hell and needs some …
My mother insists I didn’t drive her to what she politely referred to as “the brink of distraction.” She may well have found my inquisitive nature delightful, but my non-stop questions got under her skin. When Mom had reached her limit, she would cup her …