No More False Appearances, Tossed Vegetables Make Us All Happiest

I was thrilled when I read a post so openly criticising what Pinterest and Instagram have become, making each of us focus on how everything looks again. Each site is filled with food bloggers and perfectly posed photos under an array of lights to cast the oh-so-natural-but-not-real lighting streaming in through what appears to be a window propped open that leads to a fresh cut lawn and a platter of home made cookies and pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade for everyone to enjoy, because there are no enemies in this world right? I remember starting this blog to get away from an image-obsessed world and the popularity contest that ruled the halls, and finally feeling a freedom in being able to start from scratch, and from there, to build a place where I could write, write, and write even more, being in a place away.

When did it become being about that 60-second elation upon receiving another notification for which, yet another, stranger has double tapped your photo. They chose my photo! You might scream out, only to glance upon another user's photo that has quietly surpassed any number of likes you've received. And the best part, this little elation dwindles quickly, leaving behind only an immense amount of disappointment. Maybe this one will do it, you think with each added hash tag to the caption of another photo, a towering plate of cookies that never tasted very good anyway, maybe more people will notice this time.

Oh. My. God. No. Since when did this become a network for the popularity-obsessed, each prying for one another's attention, and solely forgetting the interests that are clearly stated in each person's bio. I read a recent blog post from Gluten Free Girl, and have to say, that I couldn't have been happier that finally, someone had acknowledged how far this has gone, and how far it has come into each blog, as little as we realised. 

Now as I look around Instagram and Pinterest, it truly feels as if the attention has turned to being solely preoccupied with looking our best, and above all, making everything perfect. And for a perfectionist like me, someone who isn't often left happy with a "good" job, I'm sent into spirals and loops while I continually question all the effort I have already put into this blog, and the work I've had to put in to break away from high school pressures, mainly striving to be perfect in a world full of unattainable standards. 

Is it really fair to ourselves that the food we make, cooked so we feel better, healthier, is now a measurement of how others see us? That each photo taken can scale how good we have life, rather than just an outlet a long along with the creative process of cooking, and of blogging. So who cares if a hand peeks into the frame while a photo is snapped? The food I make is for people to enjoy, forks in hand, plates ready, so isn't it right that they would be there, with the food? And all those times we've left a table full of people waiting while the perfect shot has yet to be taken, only to present a plate that's cooled down, lost its brilliance of being straight from the oven, only to mumble, well at least I got a photo. 

No!

It's this post from Gluten Free Girl that captured what I've been meaning to scream for too long now, after realising that those moments immediately after scrolling a news feed teeming with foodography were when I felt the worst, almost as if I had to live up to each brilliant, glittery photo. But how could I? When each post was unattainably attractive, without a dog hair in the frame, a perfect slice of apple pie that doesn't crumble when it's cut, and would never spill any of the evenly chopped apples inside. And of course it's free of anything that makes food taste good! As she says, "It’s just fake, all of it, this perfect food. I’m so damned tired of perfect food." And so am I. 

So here's to throwing pleasing, being perfect, and trying to attain something that, really, I would never want to be, out that perfectly propped open window and into the tray of baked cookies and lemonade. Besides, I'd rather have them warm from the oven. And a cake without sugar?  Puh-lease. 

Back to tossing vegetables together for dinner, throwing in an array of spices, and mixing up the colours to see what will come out the kitchen this time. There's excitement in that, and best of all, complete and utter joy while we enjoy the flavours in a plate that's still steaming in front of us. Behind that shine of perfection we see in photos on our Pinterest feeds is a whole lot of stifled creativity, and I'll have none of that, for this blog, and these dishes prepared, are for living without being heralded by appearances, perceptions, or worries.

This blog after all, has been a way for me to be happy, and I hope to keep it that way. 

Baked Root Vegetables Tossed in Fresh Rosemary

{print recipe here}

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This was a great recipe as it used up some of our fresh vegetables, and fresh herbs that we picked up at a market in Saanich, with very little effort. Beets this time of year are juicy and full of flavour, as well as many other root vegetables such as yams and potatoes, that complement each other with taste and colour. 

serves 4

Ingredients:

3 medium sized beets
1 onion, sliced
1 small yam, diced
3 - 4 Yukon Gold potatoes, sliced
1 - 2 tablespoons olive oil
2 sprigs fresh rosemary, cut from the stem
1 teaspoon salt

 Directions:

Start by cooking the beets, preheating the oven to 415 F, and chopping off the stems of each beet. Place the beets in a shallow baking dish and fill with water reaching halfway up the sides of the beets. Cover with aluminium foil and bake for 40 - 50 minutes.

Meanwhile, toss together sliced onion, yam and potatoes, olive oil, rosemary and salt, and lay out onto a baking sheet. Place this in the oven, with the beets, and bake for approximately 30 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender.

Remove the beets from the oven and allow to cool, or run under cold water. Using a knife, or gently pressing with your fingers, peel the beets, rinsing frequently to avoid staining your hands. They will stain everything if not rinsed immediately.

Cut the beets into small cubes and toss with tray of yams and potatoes, quickly returning to the oven for another 10 minutes.

Serve hot, enjoy a delicious meal with fresh ingredients!

Curiosity, Courage, and Chicken Pot Pies

Wrapped up in a cosy green, a colour which covers all the walls in this house, and symbolises the growth and rejuvenation it once stood for, and perhaps brings to us as well, I sipped a hot ginger and lemon tea and read a book beside the trails of rain streaming down the windows. Through a storm we spent huddled on our big couch or behind a pair of binoculars trying to spot the first white caps thundering into the harbour. Behind thick lenses we could see a brave fisherman in the wind, and the train of seagulls behind the boat as his crab traps were pulled up from under the waves. It was wonderful to feel so at home behind the front of a big storm rolling in, and the cups of tea held between our hands, or hot plates for dinner, kept us feeling comforted and warm. 

Perhaps it's just the cold left behind from a busy weekend of showing my friends some of my favourite places here while they visited, including a full bakery breakfast and some gluten free French toast for me, as well as a trip to Victoria in the pouring rain, but I've found having so much time difficult at the moment. Maybe it's also that we've been here a month now, and we really are settling in, I mean mum's getting movie suggestions from ladies at the grocery store checkout and we actually recognise people on our daily walks ("he was here yesterday," mum will whisper to me, or I'll wonder where the tall guy was as we come back around the beach). Especially underneath the patter of the continuous and comforting sounds of rain, and left dependant on ginger teas and Tylenol, as well as warming dinners such as home made chilli and steaming chicken pot pies, I almost feel restless to get out and explore, and finally find a foothold in this new town, among new people, and to step there to begin a climb into the unknown.

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Winter is the Time for Soup

Mum and dad were up and out of the house before I'd even got out of bed, and the rain was drizzling heavily in streams down the windows. It was one of those lazy weekend days where the cat slept in her little basket by the fire, the rabbit huddled under the coffee table, the dog was sprawled out comfortably between the cat and the rabbit next to the hearth of the fire, and there wasn't much going on at all. That is, except for the busy movement coming from the kitchen and bursts of air shuffling through the rooms following my flurry of activity.

The dog just raised her eyes at me, sighed, and went back to sleep. Only lifting her head enough to peer at me over top the back of the chair.

I lazily woke up with plans of cooking and sipping hot tea when I waited for the oven. My pajamas were just too cozy, so I slipped on a pair of fuzzy slippers and began about making a toasty and warm winter breakfast: fibre-filled oatmeal sprinkled with a dash of cinnamon. I cooked on the stove, stirring in freshly ground cinnamon with water and oats, and as the pot came to a boil, stirred vigorously to mix. I topped my breakfast with some apple slices quickly baked in the oven, defrosted blueberries from the valley in the summer, and finally, a spoonful of vanilla Greek yogourt. It was creamy, flavourful and delicious - and extremely colourful, a mix of vibrant blueberry blue, and cherry-apple red. A perfect start to a day of cooking and playing in the kitchen.

If there's one flavour which I could love more than chocolate, it would be cinnamon. Nothing short of delightful, I love the warm aroma of the spice in baked goods, a top my breakfast cereal, or even sprinkled on slices of apple and cottage cheese for a snack.

My tangle with kitchen utensils and ingredients didn't stop there however, for a few hours later, I stepped back into the kitchen for a creation for lunch. From the vegetables leftover in the fridge I chopped and peeled, imagined and fantasized all the while, as I combined flavours together to make something edible, and delicious. It was just the day for a hearty bowl of soup. A little shrimp cocktail from the evening before's dinner - we go big on Valentine's Day: mum makes dinner and I do dessert, a Chocolate Hazelnut Cake in pots - so I had it on the side ready to go with a few crackers. As I lent over the steaming pot on the stove, steam rising and cascading into my face, I felt the refreshing and warming power of a bowl of soup.

Winter Vegetable Soup
Print recipe here.

Chard seems to be in season this time of year, so instead of using the popular leafy green kale, I've opted for a few leaves of this similar dark green vegetable, which I have no doubt has very similar health benefits, full of essential vitamins and nutrients.

As a super quick stove top recipes for those days when you're just craving a bowl of hearty soup to ease the brisk chill of winter, I guarantee that a bowl of this vegetable soup will warm you and your mood.

Serves 2

Ingredients:

1 garlic clove, chopped finely
1 tbsp grape seed oil

1 1/2 cup canned chopped tomatoes, with juice
1 1/2 cup water

2 chard leaves, chopped
1/2 cup cubed yam
1/2 cup cubed zucchini
1 tsp dried thyme
1/4 each salt and pepper

Directions:

In a medium sauce pan heat the oil, and add the garlic. Cook about 1 minutes, until the garlic becomes fragrant.

Pour in the canned tomatoes, with juice, and add the water.

Bring the pan to a boil before adding the vegetables. I put the yam in a small bowl in a little water and heated it up for two minutes in the microwave to reduce cooking time on the stove.

Add the thyme, salt, and pepper, and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes, or until the vegetables are soft.

Pour into bowls and serve with gluten free crackers or bread.

Enjoy! xx S.

Happy as a Yam

It was dark all day today; the clouds never parted and the rain only stopped for breaths of wind to channel down through the valley. In our pyjamas and morning sleepiness, we dallied into the afternoon as breakfast stretched into lunch, lunch into dinner.

It was a nice day, I can't deny that, but now as the light fades and the fire burns brightly, I feel winter is right there, standing on the doorstep prying to wash over us again, snow, frost, and all.

I'm coming. I'm coming.

It seems to whisper as if beckoning, enticing.

Good thing I've got my nice warm coat, my dashing red, woolly headband, and my thick Roots socks to keep me warm as I venture through the trees with my dog. Good thing for my hot bean bag at night as I curl into a deep sleep. And thank goodness for the kettle, fuelling me, pushing me through, with each cup of tea.

The first Christmas craft fair of the year was held today, just a short walk down from my house, and I could see the abundance of cars lined up in the parking lot outside the building, in neat rows like received Christmas cards will start to be; one will say

Happy Holidays!

Next to another that chimes Silent Night from a small box in the centre of the card. There will be no surfaces available again this year. No longer a perch for Saturday afternoon phone calls, the window sill becomes a home for the cards each winter, and the cat jealously eyes their beneficial location, her usual kaleidoscope to the world she no longer escapes to - her bed by the fire, for some reason, is much more enticing.

I couldn't bring myself to shop Christmas already, and the people exiting with baskets of goodies, soaps with names like Gingerbread and ornaments made from shells and driftwood, donned in their handmade knitted scarves, for once didn't make me envious. I wasn't ready for the sound of Christmas carols to be blasted from a speaker made in the seventies, causing the singer's voice to waver over high notes that couldn't be interpreted properly by such ageing technology. No, today I was still enjoying autumn, playing in the leaves and baking throughout the day; cookies in the morning - gluten-free chocolate chip - and blissful brownies in the afternoon.

My friend from Northern B.C. came down last weekend, for Remembrance holiday, and as we shopped downtown, milling about the shops and going for lunch at the gallery, I noticed the amounts of Christmas stock in store front windows, the gift packages in cosmetic and soap shops that lined the shelves and overflowed onto the floor, and the largest display, an ornamental Christmas tree in The Bay with decorations of yellow and gold throughout store aisles - tinsel, candy canes and baubles.

We even saw snow that weekend.

It was on our way into town that morning, and as both of us sat snuggled on the ferry, angling ourselves away from the slight draft coming from the door, my mum texted me with exclamation and excitement in her words,

"Look outside! It's snowing!"

We peered up from inside our scarves and could barely just make out the flittering of glimmering white specs across the sky, almost invisible against the white of the clouds and through the gleam of the windows. And it certainly felt cold enough today, as we headed out the door only to return for more layers, for a light dusting of snow on the ground, or even to be woken up in the brisk air as frost covers tomorrow's morning.

Sadly, it's forecasted to rain all week. My gumboots and umbrella will remain perched beside the front door, a dim reminder of the weather outside, even as I comfortably remain in the kitchen with the fire blazing and the oven baking something wonderful.

"Today doesn't look so good, maybe I'll just stay in, warm,"

I tell myself, until mum and dad drag me out of the house, earnestly stating how much I will enjoy getting out once I've had some air, as if I were the one on the leash, and not the dog. But I always feel so much better after, they're right, and especially after the heat and dryness of indoors for so long, that begins to make you feel cooped up, even if it does seem so cozy.

So finally, even after having this family favourite numerous times, we like it for lunch on the weekend, I have found the time when other recipes haven't bombarded me to post about them (who knew that could happen) and finally sat down to post about Yam Tuna Bakes. Tuna bakes have always been a delectable comfort food, although when I became gluten-free it was time to put a twist on the old bread base, and it also gave me an opportunity to find something tastier.

Oh the delight of finding pleasure in old comforts.

Even in the morning, yam tuna bake holds a high rank.
(A message received from my sister).

Yam Tuna Bake
Print Recipe.

For rainy days, for family picnics or gatherings, I'd whip up this old favourite any day. A comforting twist on a pantry staple, yam adds lots of healthy nutrients and enjoyable flavour. It can be made ahead of time by putting the yam in the oven at 450 F for about an hour, halved and scored, or for a faster method can be microwaved until tender for few minutes. Either way, the flavour will remain.

Don't be burdened by the ingredients in the recipe either, if you haven't got something, just incorporate the vegetables that you do have, and save a little time (and money) by skipping that extra dash to the grocery store. Besides, it'll probably be busy and just take too long anyway.

When choosing yams for this recipe, I usually go for the oddly shaped ones that end up neglected at the bottom of the baskets in grocery stores. For some reason, I just love their shapes and the interesting knobs in the skin, there isn't anything wrong with them, they're just different. And for that, should be loved like any other. 

Serves 2-3

Ingredients

1 large cooked yam, sectioned into equal parts

1 can albacore tuna
1-2 tbsp mayonnaise
1 spring onion, thinly sliced
1/2 red pepper, diced
1/2 tomato, diced
salt and pepper to taste

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, optional for a spicier taste

1/2-3/4 c grated mozzarella

Directions

Set the oven to broil, or preheat to 500 F, and set the sections of yam on a baking sheet. Set aside.

In a medium sized bowl, combine the drained tuna, mayonnaise, vegetables, and season with salt and pepper. Add cayenne if desired. Stir to combine completely.

Spoon the tuna mixture in equal amounts onto the yam halves, and sprinkle with the grated cheese.

Place the baking tray under the broiler and cook for about 5 minutes, until cheese begins to bubble but not so much that it browns.

Remove, and cool before serving.