May 31 2013

les aliments, reconsideré


The last few weeks, a couple good books and some observation have me questioning my approach to food.

We all seem to have our personality quirks and for me the thing that seems to taint all that I do, or aim to do, is a debilitating fear of failure. Whether it’s second guessing my every decision, over complicating a process or just self sabotage, this fear of failure is evident in nearly every endeavour.

I don’t especially like talking about it, because it’s often misinterpreted as a need to hear that you’re doing just fine, which isn’t really what I’m after, rather, I want to learn the art of not caring what others think and becoming a better, more confident cook.

So circling this back… I love dinner parties, I love cooking for friends but I find it equally terrifying that I’ll make some huge error should I try to go improvising or if I didn’t plan it all out ahead of time. It’s stressful to say the least and yet, I don’t want it to ruin my love of hosting and nourishing others. So after reading Julia Childs memoir and Kathleen Flinns book about teaching a group of 10 how to cook and being in the country of gastronomy, I am once again reminded that a failed meal is one failed dish in a lifetime of cookery. Everything I was reading was a good reminder to be creative and accepting a challenge is good for the soul, right? It’s also good to be reminded that a fridge full of food ends up a lot of wasted food if you can’t learn to improvise. What probably made this all the more evident wasn’t reading more about it but actually watching Jérémie in his own kitchen. He had me believing he couldn’t cook and never really did and when I looked into the fridge I thought, “dear Lord, there’s no FOOD in here!” I was worried there wouldn’t be anything for dinner, a healthy fear of course. Somehow, night after night he’d say, “Why don’t you read your book in the living room and I’ll prepare dinner,” and a half hour later, he had found what was left in the fridge, in the cupboards and made an entire meal that was satisfying and kept anything from going in the garbage. Yesterdays leftovers became just another ingredient in the following nights meal. For someone who didn’t cook often, I felt a little bewildered that he had acquired a skill I felt I clearly did not have. How could he see a meal when all I could see was a baren fridge? Evidently this book, this experience, all came together at exactly the right moment.

So this week I’ve been working on the idea of reinventing my approach to food, to not worry so much about a recipe, or having all the right ingredients or even having a fully stocked fridge. So far, so good. This week in my attempt to “chill out” the nerves in the kitchen, and a new kitchen to boot… I’ve made a warm mango, sage, coconut and hazelnut salad on greens in a butter and lemon dressing as well as a “clean out the fridge pasta” using my leftover pepper, grape tomatoes, onion, garlic and pinenuts with a little drizzle of basil olive oil at the end. There were other great dishes this week too but these are the two I photographed and it’s nice to know that there’s, somehow, always a little food in the fridge ready to be made into a meal. I’m hoping that as the days and weeks progress it’ll just get easier and easier. I’m sure the harder days are yet to come but I’ve already surprised myself a couple times over this week.

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May 30 2013

La Pluie


I love the sound of rain. From under my blanket in the chair that’s nicely tucked into the corner of my room I can hear the heavy rain falling outside the the cars driving through puddles and there is something so very satisfying about this sound. Perhaps it’s in knowing that I’m cozy and dry under this plaid woollen blanket or maybe it’s that white noise that keeps us calm like the sound of a steady heartbeat…

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May 29 2013

Adieu La Nuit


10 months later I finally returned to France. It’s hard to believe that so much time has already passed but time does have a way to slipping by, a constant reminder of the need to seize every moment.

The whole experience hardly felt real. I never expected that my job would open up the possibilities for travel the way it has. Days before the big trek halfway across the globe I booked a standby ticket aboard Air France flight 347 for Paris, arriving at 8.30 am the morning of my 29th birthday! Details were vague on exactly where the journey would end up, my clothes were mere guesswork for weather and activities I could possibly expect and I still hadn’t booked a flight home and I still wasn’t sure if I’d end up visiting another country while I was already across the Atlantic. The only thing I could have known was that I’d be greeted by convivial music in the metros and cobblestone streets and that I’d be setting out on a little road trip somewhere through the regions of the Loire and Brittany.

As for Jérémy, well he had several days off due to several holidays in France, which was part of the motivation for my timing. After a couple days exploring Fontainebleau and the surrounding villages we took to the roads and headed out for the unknown. No hotels were booked, no sights planned out just a few goals which included exploring castles, visiting a wine cave and to hit up the west coast!

Slowing down was harder than I imagined and getting used to the subtleties of the French culture always creep up on you. I mentioned I planned this around French holidays but I also hadn’t quite envisioned how much that might change the course of our vacationing… There’s a rhythm to life that I really love, and I appreciate, but I forget that I get used to having everything available to me all the time when I’m in Vancouver. Stores rarely have days off, the grocery stores are always stocked and another table can always be reserved *somewhere* for dinner, not so in France. After settling into a little chateau turned hotel and dropping off our bags we went in search for a glass of something in the village, we circled our village and didn’t see anything so we carried onto the next and still nothing… not a bar or brasserie open anywhere. In Paris, many shops and restaurants will inevitably be closed during the holidays but you could probably find something, not so in the country, you’d think you’d entered a ghost town, not even a lone walker along the sidewalks to be found.

We decided to return to the little chateau hotel we’d found and opt, if nothing else, for an overpriced dessert in the ritzy dinning room. He walked over to the head waiter to see if it might be possible to be seated, even just for a dessert but as he walked back I knew we were out of luck. Something to the effect of a, “sorry monsieur, the chef has already cleaned up and left” and it wasn’t even 9pm! The only thing we had in the way of food were champagne, dark chili chocolate and alpine mints in the car.

Despite the rocky beginning we did manage to see troglodytes, a wine cave, a couple castles, the salt marches of Guérande, a walled medieval city and the wild southern Brittany Coast which all came together and made up for our one missed meal.

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Apr 24 2013

une nuit blanche imprévu


There’s the faintest light in the room, nary more than a candle could give off and I’ve mixed myself a sidecar to prep for a film about a french pastry competition. It’s been a long day.

I was still going strong with a sprint to the train after arriving at the Vancouver airport with less than 10 minutes to run from a far corner of the airport, through customs, arrivals, outside for the last train of the evening just moments before 1am. I made it and the door shut right behind me. My colleague and I gasped for air and I was thankful this time wasn’t so taxing on my body as the week before where I had to stop, remove my coat, my heels and fight feelings of defeat and that my chest and my face were about to explode from the sudden exertion so late at night.

The evenings flight from Vancouver to Las Vegas and back had been a fun one. I had challenged my flight crew to walk the length of the cabin in lunges anytime we weren’t doing service. I was in stitches as everyone looked in confusion and I was bursting at the seams in laughter, before joining in on the team challenge.

My adrenaline from our sprint had definitely given me a second wind and I walked from the train several blocks along the cute tree lined and street-lamp lit way home. It’s a beautiful walk so late at night, there are usually a few people cycling past and the yellowish cast from the street lamps cause the oak trees to glow in such a way it reminds me of when my parents came to visit me in France and we spent our second night together in Moustiers Ste-Marie and walked back to our room from a yummy meal in the village centre under the lit plain tress. I must have fallen asleep no earlier than 3am.

Usually the sound of my phone in the morning is no surprise, I expect the loud and sharp ring because it means I’m off to work, but this morning was an exception. I had awoken at 6.30, as I often do, I opened the door to let the warm air out, and I went back to bed expecting to remain asleep as long as possible to recover from the late night. I hardly remember what came out of my voice other than something rusty trying to figure out what the heck this phone call was about. I’m still not entirely sure what was said… I know that my room was a mess from coming home late and throwing my uniform everywhere and all my bags off my bed so I could sleep (a rarity considering I like my bed made and ready to go before bed.) I was fighting to find a pen and paper because all I gathered was that apparently needed to write a name and number down. Wade, Yaletown. Something about having found my passport. It all sounded a bit fishy, I knew I HAD to have had my passport to get through customs, which I did… but then there was the escalator up to the train… Surely it had fallen out as I was reaching to grab my train ticket! My dad had called to tell me that a man had found my passport and I needed to retrieve it. I’m usually incredibly fussy about my documents and they don’t just fall out or get misplaced but this was an exception so once I finally checked to see it wasn’t in it’s pouch I got dressed, knowing sleep wouldn’t come again until after I had my passport in my hands, and set off for Yaletown. So much for catching up on sleep!

Finally I’d retrieved it and I sat myself down at a coffee shop to read and come down from yet another surge of adrenaline. Once finished my coffee and a chapter of my book I went to the grocery store to satisfy a curious looking recipe posted by Jamie Oliver for Italian “bangers and mash” and I couldn’t help myself. Lentils, Italian sausage and a homemade tomato sauce! YUMMMM-IE, the perfect remedy for a crazy morning. I came home, put away the perishables, did a little spanish, took an hour nap and got to work while I watched old episodes of “the French Chef” on YouTube! The meal was a simple recipe and I was happy about the flavour and having yet another reason to eat lentils, a food I hated up until last year when suddenly they became an acceptable flavour!

Now, it’s time to relax. The kitchen has been tidied, my stomach is full, my Julia Child watching curiosity is satisfied, the house is empty and I can sip my bevy and watch the competition to become recognized as top pastry chefs!

10 more days until France!

Bon Appétit!

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Apr 10 2013

Lindy Bout VII

It was nice to finally have a weekend. My body aches from three weeks of work back to back and it was time to enjoy a deep breath. Sadly, even with a few extra days, I still felt achey and sore. Somehow in the middle of this I decided to give my more courageous/adventurous self another whirl and so when asked to go out dancing with Robyn and Ryan, I said yes, to their surprise. Instead of coming up with the usual lineup of excuses about not having a partner or being too exhausted it seemed like I might as well just go and so off we went in our dresses to the opening night of the annual Lindy Bout happening in the Strathcona district of Vancouver. There were many casual competitors trying their hand at improvisation with ever changing swing partners which was fun to watch and this was one I managed to catch on film!

Lindy Bout VII from Vine and the Olive on Vimeo.

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