Bake with abandon!
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 …
Concord Grapes leave me conflicted. They fill up my senses in a way that would do John Denver proud. They also break my heart. When I see their deep blue-purple skins overflowing the baskets at the market stalls the joyful, creative part of me wants …
Growing up, my mom’s homemade grape jam appeared on the table in recycled baby food jars with a paraffin wax seal. While the jam bubbled and the jars boiled, she melted bricks of wax on the stove top in an old tomato juice can with …
My Cherished Canadian Recipe Everyone in my immediate family uses the same shortbread recipe. We got it from my mother, who got it from her mother, who got it from a rather odd neighbour. My grandmother wanted the recipe so badly she dutifully wrote out …
The comments are rolling in in response to the cookbook give away. Your fabulous ideas make me want to rent a delightful, impractically located venue and throw a great big bash. (If you missed the post, Rose Murray’s wonderful A Taste of Canada is up …
Well, this is embarrassing. I nearly singed my bangs off. How? Licking a big drip of Concord grape puree off the stove knob just inches from the boiling pot. How else? Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would anyone do that? Well, first of …
Pastry is fickle. One day you’re rolling dough like it’s a bolt of white velvet and pull a golden, bubbling dessert from the oven. The results are so fine you briefly consider embroidering “Pie Guru” on your apron. Only you don’t know how to sew, …