Bake with abandon!
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. …
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 …
It is not winter here inside my kitchen. The four inches of crystallized water piled up on the back porch is just an illusion created by the white curtains and the angle of the light. That sound isn’t howling wind. It’s a neighbour’s dog, Or …
This month’s Canadian Food Experience Project focuses on resolutions. I could have used my culinary bucket list as my contribution, but I don’t do proper resolutions and felt this was a bit of a cheat. Then I rethought things. I’ve been wearing blinkers. The word “resolution” …
It has snowed so much lately my shovel and I are on a first name basis. It sees my boots coming and says, “Hello, Charmian.” I nod, pull my hat down over my ears and grab the chirpy shovel in a choke hold. Together, Shovel …
This improv recipe is a testament to my impulse shopping, poor sense of timing and the power of the common cold. Impulse shopping: A few months ago, I found fresh Cornish hens at the butcher shop. As I stood at the meat counter waiting to …
In my early teens, I had a brief but passionate flirtation with tinned Bean with Bacon soup. My mom, like a sensible parent, didn’t try to talk me out of my crush. She figured I’d eventually come to my senses, and let me ride things …
Go to your bookshelf. Pull out your most dog-eared, battered, and beloved cookbooks. Who wrote them? If you’re Canadian, chances are at least one of them is by Elizabeth Baird and her intrepid team at the Canadian Living Test Kitchen. How many bear her name? …
When I was a child, my mother had a vegetable garden in the side yard. She grew runner beans and radishes, beets and Swiss chard. I remember neat rows of fancy-topped chives whose pungent smell drove me away, and giant bunches of rhubarb that whispered …