Dear Santa

I haven’t written to the man in red every year, just when I felt an urgent need. This year has been full of twists and turns, so checking in on something dependable seemed like a really good way to tie up the year.

Dear Santa,

First of all, I just wanted to say thank you for all you do. I am sure that you must take advantage of the technology these days that didn’t exist way back when – I have wondered every time I use Microsoft Excel if that is how you keep track of the nice and naughty kids now. And you have global warming to worry about now too. Did the North Polar Bear have to move? Is your workshop safe where it is?

You know me, Santa, I was never one to ask for stuff. I always felt very fortunate to share my Christmas with loved ones. But I did wonder about people this year. Even though we had all this time at home to get closer and practice being kind, we seem to have gotten better instead at being divided. Being right became more important than doing the right thing.

I spent much of this year frustrated, trying to figure out why people would be so contrary. Why would we want to be judgemental and always pick sides for everything? Why would respect for others be so hard to give? It made me angry that I couldn’t understand it all, and then it made me sad.

I am grateful that I have found a way to look past all the anger and focus on finding my own way to fulfill my purpose in life. In looking back on your old letters to me, I remembered that is what you told me so long ago – it’s the giving that makes the magic.

I have put out a few shortbread and some vinertarta, as usual ( I haven’t forgotten the flavouring in the shortbread this year, so they taste pretty good). I also put out one of Martin’s chocolate marshmallows as a wee something special, and a garden carrot for Rudolph. I hope Mrs. Claus will have a nice warm toddy for you when you get home.

I guess I really just wanted to say thank you, Santa. Thanks for still being there, for still wearing your red suit and your smile, and sharing your “Ho ho ho”. It warms my soul to know that the bells still ring on the reindeer harnesses and that giving is still where it’s at.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Recipes across the miles

In an age when technology allows us to find out almost anything with a Google search, it may seem odd to think of exchanging recipes personally with someone. But I will admit I still enjoy the chance to get a personal recipe from another cook, in their own handwriting. I have more than a few ingredient-stained pages glued in an old journal that I still cherish as one of my favourite cookbooks. It is not just the bits of ingredients on the page that adds to the magic of cooking the recipes and tasting them again and again. I think herein lies the true root of soul food.

This weekend I am making a recipe I call Best Friend Banana Bread. It’s an old favourite, one that comes from  one of my best and longest-held friends, a soulmate who currently lives in England. This recipe is one she sent to me on airmail paper about 30 years ago, as one of her favourites. In those days she was living in her home country of South Africa, and had just started a family with her new husband and daughter (my goddaughter). It’s a wonderful combination of health food and decadence, and I love it for that as well as how it reminds me of my darling friend.

We have shared many great recipes over the years. I sent her my Mom’s Brown Sugar Shortbread recipe, and she sent me the one for South African Milk Tart. In my movie catering days, her recipes for bobotie and carrot cake were favourites with the crews I fed. And when she brought her family to Canada so we could share Christmas together, they were amazed at my husband cooking turkey in the BBQ, and they loved his French Canadian traditions of tourtière and bûche de Noel. Food was one of the ways that kept us connected across the miles and it added to our shared memories when we could get together.

I spent a week in England at my friend’s house 8 years ago this weekend, to catch up and join in the celebrations for her 25th wedding anniversary and my goddaughter’s 21st birthday. It was amazing to think that we had been friends almost 30 years, since my first trip to Europe. We hadn’t seen each other for 7 years, and yet as soon as I arrived, we sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and some biscuits and picked up where we left off like it had been last Sunday. I could feel my soul filling up like I had stopped in at the gas station. All week long we savoured moments, many of them around the table.

My husband and her husband shared time at the stove – hers loves to cook, and with mine being a chef the two of them are often engaged in a sort of kitchen chat. It’s a bit like that Actors Studio show, where you have this interview/conversation between an expert and an admiring and not unknowing layman. Martin shared some of his secret spice blends on that visit, and he got to see a pheasant prepared for a weeknight dinner like it was chicken. The grand finale was the men cooking Smoked Salmon Eggs Benedict for the group of 12 staying at the house – all hot and perfectly cooked!

Martin is at the stove behind Vic and Chris, who are calmly assembling plates – impressive, no?

The results were served hot and with bubbly, no less!

After coming back home, I felt as though I had been replenished. I posted some new recipes in the archives for her husband Vic to try – poached eggs in red wine sauce is one I know he found interesting! And Martin became a new lover of Sticky Toffee Pudding; he used Merle’s similar recipe for the South African Cape Brandy Pudding as a starting point for his own recipe which he now cooks for clients.

We met again in person a few times over recent years while they travelled but I was ever so grateful that we had a chance to stay with them in Senegal where Vic was stationed up until the end of 2019. It was another lovely opportunity to share recipes and time around the table, reminiscing about the many memories we have made together. We ate delectable African seafood and sampled coconut and mango jams with the French pastries available in Dakar, courtesy of the colonists. Merle and Vic spoiled us again. 

The kitchen continues to be one of the best places to stay in touch across the world it seems, and I like the idea that our friendship might help warm some other hearts as well. Martin and I are hoping that when the world gets back to some kind of regular existence, we can finally host our friends in our kitchen here in the Okanagan and toast to our fantastic history across the miles.

two soulmates, out on the town (London, 2013)

We’ve still got it, even after all these years! (Senegal, 2019)

Wistful Memories

I posted a picture this morning on social media, and it made me remember other things… do you ever go down the rabbit hole that way? Today is one of those days that finds me falling through the tunnels like Alice, my mind all a-tizzy with memories that are locked in the past. They are all memories of my Daddy, who has been gone for 14 years now. He would have been 78 today.

There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of my dad. There are numerous mementos in our house that came from him, so he is all around me. And I was his Princess growing up; we were close. Not as close in later years, as I moved away and his health deteriorated, which meant he couldn’t travel.

I do wish I had visited more – even to show up and go for coffee with him. I have learned that lesson now – that’s what credit cards are for. If you want a moment with a loved one, make it happen in whatever way you can. You might be sorry it wasn’t exactly how you imagined, or that it cost more than you planned – but you won’t regret it, especially when they are gone and you can’t do it anymore.

But enough wallowing – I can hear him saying, “Don’t let the bastards get you down, Kricky”. I am grateful for so many happy memories, and wonderful things he taught me:

• one of my earliest memories is sitting on a couch, eating peanuts out of a shell with my dad (the shells went in a paper grocery bag at our knees). I could swear we were watching the Apollo Moon Landing (I would have been 4 years old.) Years later, we would compare notes about CBS Sunday Morning stories, another bit of TV we watched together when I was a kid.
• he travelled for work, so my mom was our “rock” in everyday life, but my parents were a close, intimate and loving couple. I remember one trip he gave me instructions for notes to write. They were to accompany roses that I got each day for my mom, from him. I thought that was the most romantic thing ever.
• Music was a big part of my childhood – growing up in the 70’s meant there were lots of classics. One of my best musical memories, though, is a family parade through the house, marching along to “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. We even went over the beds!
• he sent me to basketball camp so I could learn how not to be such a klutz on the court. I was never an all-star, but at least I could feel more like one of the team. Years later, we watched Michael Jordan play against the Vancouver Grizzlies – he had season’s tickets.
• the cup I posted this morning was from a resort in the British Virgin Islands. I got it on a summer sailing trip – one that I managed to get a spot on because he thought I’d have fun when he heard about it at a dinner with friends, so he saved me the spot! That was how I got the travel bug. I was 16. Years later I got to return the favour while working for Fairmont Hotels when we spent 5 days in Maui at the Kea Lani Resort. It was an epic vacation.
• he sent my Mom to spend 2 weeks with me two years later when I was in Europe. We still talk about the crazy times we had together!
• he bought me the sexiest dress I ever owned, a stunning 3/4 length, long-sleeved backless purple wool number with a swishy skirt that I couldn’t twirl enough. He always made me feel beautiful, inside and out. Every time I stand up straight I think of him and smile.
• we used to have Friday night dinners at “The Treetop Bistro” when we both lived in central Vancouver. The Treetop Bistro was his corner window table in his West End apartment. He would cook something adventurous and I would bring dessert from the gourmet food store and café where I worked. We would sit in his director’s chairs, drink wine and solve the problems of the world. I have those chairs now, and I smile every time I sit in one of them.

Daddy in Maui, sampling gourmet nibbles on our private lanai – Isn’t life grand?

My dad was a passionate fellow. He was a hard worker, and he passed that work ethic on. He loved to laugh. He loved to learn. I am so grateful I got all those things from him, so that I can remember him well.

I wish there were more pictures. I really wish there was a recording of his voice. It’s ironic, given that he was in the media business – occupational hazard, I suppose. He was always the one behind the lens.

I will send out the message I always do when I think of him: “Thank you, Daddy, for always sending out your love to me. Thank you for helping make a me strong and passionate and happy woman. I sure do miss you, but I hope you’re riding the waves with a smile and that glint in your eye!”

Well, if you’re still reading, thanks for letting me share my memories. Maybe it will inspire you to go and create one with a person in your world. You won’t regret it.

The Days of Auld Lang Syne

Christmas is past, tucked into the annals for another year. The calendar has been renewed and here we are, at the tail end of the festive scene. I do hope that like me, you soaked up all the good tidings and delectable morsels on hand over the last couple of weeks.

Epiphany will be upon us soon – I mean that symbolically, but perhaps for some it will be personal. Experiences in this past year have led many people down new paths, towards new lifestyles and new attitudes. Hindsight on last year will be 20/20 in more ways than one.

We were fortunate to have a Christmas not much different than the ones of recent years, just the two of us all snuggled up at Rabbit Hollow. I did miss my furry pal horribly; with Ella gone and not seeing our new granddaughter, some of the delightful abandon that is such an intrinsic part of Christmas was missing. But we soldiered on.

Tourtière with our green tomato pickle and some great Okanagan wine.

There was still plenty to eat and drink, of course. Even with all the goodies we shared, we had snacks left: mince pies, Christmas cake and pudding, shortbread, snowball cookies, chocolate truffles, amaretti… We ate hearty meals too: tourtière, eggs with beurre blanc on brioche buns, duck breast with balsamic reduction, ham with mustard glaze… If I do say so myself, there were also some spectacular local wine pairings from our cellar, and a few delightful late night tipples to toast those not in attendance.

Tarte au sucre (sugar pie) with whipped cream & a wee shortbread garnish, paired with a tot of whisky. Slainte!

A sense of humour is essential, especially when times get tough.

The highlight of the holiday season was still the company. I am blessed to have my soulmate with me, and we haven’t gotten tired of one another even after 10 months of mostly being isolated. The rest of my “peeps” were all across the globe, but we connected with everyone one way or another.

Christmas Day chat with the family!

Who knew that I would be “Zoom-ing” for Christmas cocktails, sharing WhatsApp and Facebook video calls with family, and toasting at New Year’s with friends on screen. There was laughter as we reminisced, and a few tears, but at least they were shared. We all missed the hugs, but we all rejoiced at being safe and left feeling hopeful we can rekindle the fun with plenty of enthusiasm next Christmas and New Year’s Eve.

We were even more conscious of our food choices this holiday season, too. We strived to recreate old memories for comfort, and ventured into exotic recipes as a form of virtual travel. I think that will be my theme this year, to keep the balance of those things like the yin and yang of past and future, holding me steady in the present.

I’ll be trying these recipes soon!

My passion to encourage people to share family dishes has been lit even stronger as well. If we cannot gather to share the knowledge of our family culture, then we need even more to be sure we record its workings to help keep it alive for the future. I was chuffed to participate in the Food52 Holiday Recipe Swap for 2020, which did just that. I sent along some favourites from our family to someone in New York, and I received a delightful note with recipes from a family in Boston. I had the same warm feeling reading the recipes as I do when I light a candle in church.

I start this new year weary, but hopeful. It has been hard to be apart from everyone so much. Our ways to connect have been so limited. Sharing is worth more effort, though, and worth getting creative. The rewards are as good as the taste of an elaborate dessert, or the compliments of guests at your table.

That old song I mentioned earlier asks if old times should be forgotten. I won’t be forgetting this last year, for it has given me cause to remember how important it is to be grateful, and how it’s even more important to show our love to our loved ones, any way we can.

If you haven’t discovered Charlie Mackesy‘s book, “The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and The Horse”, look it up. It’s a beautiful piece, and it could not have been written at a better time.

Revisiting a flavour

This Christmas has been full of memories, but it’s the old ones carrying me, as we can’t make many new ones in a world of lockdowns and restrictions. I haven’t posted all month – the only message I can come up with is to try and be positive, but that has gotten increasingly harder. I decided to just immerse myself in the nostalgia.

Last year, Christmas was rich with exotic gifts and flavours we had brought back from our trip to Africa. We shared new recipes at our annual Dessert Before Christmas open house. We gave argan oil and filigree earrings from Morocco, vivid textiles and wood carvings from Senegal. We regaled our family and friends with tales of our adventures. And then of course there were the usual sleigh rides with friends, holiday movies, meeting folks for drinks… I think it used to be called “the hustle and bustle of the season”.

Having lost our chance for a Christmas with anyone but us two, we have resorted like everyone else to living glued to the screen. Zoom and Facebook are the only ways to see them. The outside world has been reduced to 15 inches at best, or sometimes just a face like a postage stamp on my phone. And there is no “smell-o-vision”. Perhaps that is why I decided to make visual cookies was important this year.

My Mom’s Shortbread, all decorated with sprinkles and coloured sugar, looked like they were dressed up for a holiday party even if I couldn’t attend. They were always the favourite when my brother and I were kids, and made me think of happier, busier times.

I also managed a new cookie this year, using not only flavours from Morocco but also a pattern that echoes the beautiful tiles we saw across western Africa. I called them Orange Blossom Lavender Biscuits. (Click on the recipe link to see how I achieved it.) I am no good with icing cookies in elaborate detail – and my ability to push through and persevere is wearing down, so I set myself up for success. I brushed them with a floral-scented glaze and sprinkled dried edible flower petals on top. They deserved a “Ta-da!” at the very least!

So now I feel a bit better. I sent some proudly to friends and relatives in gift bags. My cousin, bless his heart, said lovingly on our Zoom call that they tasted like Froot Loops cereal. I had to laugh – not the review I was hoping for, but sharing the love and laughter was worth its weight in gold. That’s what a cookie can do.