I had one of the most amazing weeks of my life and there are a number of people that have helped me get here. They know who they are and I thank them deeply and sincerely for all they've contributed to my life. I wouldn't be where I am today without your friendship, wisdom and love.
Time to level up.
I grew up in St. Norbert, the southernmost suburb of Winnipeg, Canada. My childhood home was across the street from a forested park in which I played nearly every day as a child. I could even be found there at dusk and the early hours of night. It might not seem safe to me today, to be this solo kinder adventurer, but back then I enjoyed exploring and living primarily through my imagination and instinct (which, it could be argued, I still do today but with the added insurance of adult wisdom). My mom still lives in my childhood home and whenever I visit I take the dogs for a walk through that same forest, down those same paths. I marvel at how much smaller it feels and how much my perspective, figuratively and literally, has evolved over the years.
There was an experience I had underneath its canopy a few years ago that has stayed with me. While I'm sure a scientific explanation can be found, my mind, at this time, refuses to believe it was nothing short of supernatural. Magic tends to happen in the dark and on this night, I needed a breath of fresh air hoping that it would help ease me into the sleep I had been sorely deprived of. It had been a hard week. Specifically, the time in between my father's passing and funeral. The time where one remains in denial at the loss but the reality of its permanence starts to set in. I took his dog, Reggie, a 90lb lab-cross, for a late night walk. As we made our way through the stillness of the forest, I noticed something caught in his thick, black fur. It was a firefly. Before taking it off, I stared at it for a bit. I hadn't seen a firefly since I was a pre-teen and they lit up the campground we were staying at while on vacation in Montana. I had never, EVER, seen one in this park. I would have remembered it. I would have made a point to regularly partake in this show of nature if I had. As it flickered, I noticed a few more and then the forest became alive with them. It was surreal. I felt it was a sign. A farewell from my father perhaps. The bioluminescence of the insects acting as a beacon to remind and reassure me that life is, indeed, beautiful and that he would never be too far away.
It is now 2017 and I have not seen them since. Not at any hour. Not in any season. I have, however, noticed some new creatures frequenting the area near my childhood home. Like a pair of blue jays that have nested nearby. They are beautiful birds and not uncommon but I don't recall seeing them around these parts before ...
Guests at my house have a four in ten chance of sipping out of a mug with my dog's face on it.
As mentioned in a previous post, I have had a few disasters in my kitchen while learning to cook. Just last week, I tried using up the remainder of the Moroccan spice blend I created on an exotic version of fish-and-chips. My potatoes ended up dry as heck and the cod I used just wasn't the right choice for this particular culinary experiment. I was disappointed as it made its way into the bottom of my trash bin, however, I look forward to attempting it again. Just as I didn't stop after I made my first disastrous batch of pumpkin cinnamon buns.
I love cinnamon buns. Like, I REALLY love them. They are in my top three of desserts (next to Italian tricolour cookies and authentic French eclairs), being both delicious and bringing back memories of yesteryear when the sticky roll played a supporting role during some pivotal moments of my life such as at social gatherings or after poignant break-ups when I stuffed my face with them. The absolute best cinnamon buns are located in Winnipeg at KUB Bakery. The insides are ooey-goeey and the surface is covered with a delectable apple topping. This is the benchmark I'm aiming for.
As I was visiting my mom during Halloween, I thought I would make a seasonal variation with pumpkin to share with her. I have never had these before, much less made them, but I found an online recipe that seemed easy to follow. Seemed. Perhaps to a more seasoned chef, it would have been but I have never worked with yeast before and my first dough was a dry mess that kept breaking as I tried to knead it:
I suppose I could have let it harden a bit more and made a soccer ball out of it. Oh well.
I aborted that mission and decided to try again the next day using a new recipe by The Pioneer Woman that a colleague provided. My dough ended up perfect. The only changes I made were adding raisins and subtracting the glaze topping in hopes of also subtracting a few calories (although this dessert isn't healthy by any means; the amount of butter is insane). It was a very fulfilling process to make this from scratch. While the end taste wasn't entirely up to my expectations – I want to be as good, or better, than KUB – recipients who tried the buns really liked them. Now that I know the base, I can play.
Congratulations to Canada's newest permanent resident, my good friend Dr. Paul, who already takes to our long, cold winters better than I do.
I've decided to "share my work" as I learn how to cook and bake. Every week I try something new. In some instances, like this example that I made from scratch this weekend, the results are amazing – the combination of spices was fragrant and flavourful. At other times though ... the results have been a bit disastrous (will get to this another day). Regardless, in less than a year, I feel I have made great progress.
For Moroccan baked chicken, I used an easy online recipe by The Stay At Home Chef for the meat portion and my trusty 'Posh Rice' cookbook for the rest. This has become my main go-to resource for dinner. There are infinite ways in which to dress up this staple and I am on a mission to try them all. This version incorporated basmati with allspice, red onion, garlic, cucumber and chicken stock. I bastardized the original recipe slightly and substituted pine nuts and pumpkin seeds for sliced almonds, and cranberries for pomegranate which I couldn't find in the grocery. Once done, I garnished with fresh coriander.
I'm in the process of limiting meat intake but when I do, I use certified humane. This is a personal choice which might seem naive but I believe that if an animal is sacrificed for my pleasure, then the least I can do is support a better life for it while alive. This chicken was marinated overnight with a mixture of lemon juice, smoked paprika, cumin, turmeric, cayenne pepper, cinnamon and ginger. The following day, I squeezed more lemon juice overtop and placed pieces of the fruit with the chicken in the oven for forty minutes (400 degrees).
My dinner companion was greatly impressed and proceeded to eat all the leftovers the following day, leaving me to make a sandwich. While I might normally be annoyed, I made him do handyman work in my condo all weekend so I figured it was a fair trade (bartering is another skill I am mastering). My own personal review is that this chicken was some of the best I've ever eaten. The marinade was perfect. I will next attempt it on some of my other favourites.
I am having a very, very good week:
She is east.
He is south.
My heart is west.
Me, at eighteen.
I had my first real job at the age of eighteen. I say "real" because the only source of income I had generated prior to that, besides the bi-weekly allowance from my parents, was delivering flyers around my neighbourhood. I was thirteen and that lasted just over a month. Thus, my first real job where I had regular hours and a regular paycheque was at eighteen when I worked at a telemarketing firm in downtown Winnipeg. The work itself was easy but tedious. I was especially elated that I just had to verify calls, rather than making them.
Turnover was high at the company. Winnipeg had somewhat of an industry niche in the field during the nineties and the place I worked was not upper-tier, just a stepping stone to a stepping stone. For me, it was income in between graduating high school and attending college in the Fall. I wanted to be a designer. I wanted to see my work on billboards. I wanted – perhaps I should say needed – the recognition for my talent. Interrupting people's dinner with solicitations was not what I ever envisioned as a long-term thing. But moreso, as time went on, the office culture was not what I ever envisioned either.
I can't remember his name but I do remember his face. He was a dopplegänger for British singer Robbie Williams. The nerdy managers adored him. I feel like they looked to him as the cool guy they would never get to be friends with outside of the workplace because he wouldn't otherwise give them the time of day. He, of course, played up to it as well. More time spent cracking jokes in their offices meant less time doing actual labour. Within a week of him starting at the company, he made me feel very uncomfortable by making lewd, highly inappropriate comments. I tried to ignore it – it was just words, right? – but it did bother me. I had never been around a male that was so aggressive before. I didn't know how to react. I felt like an animal in the wild with a predator infiltrating the midst. I was on-guard but admittedly weak. I sensed he would eat me alive. He was older (late twenties) and seemed more worldly. I was naive and relatively inexperienced. And it was just words, right?
Words that eventually evolved into him placing his hand lower and lower down my back each time he tried to get by. Words that evolved into him surprising me from behind by initiating a shoulder massage. I still did nothing because I was too intimidated. If I spoke out, if I expressed my discomfort, then I would ruin the "fun" atmosphere that the managers wished to cultivate. Also, they liked him and I knew that I was more disposable. Heaven forbid I be the killjoy. Besides, I was only going to be there for a few months prior to starting college. I thought I could bear it.
Then, while sitting around the office one day, he wanted to know my thoughts about "making babies" with him. This would make me retch at my current age, much moreso when I was only eighteen. I lied and told him that I had a boyfriend, to which he replied bluntly "that's okay, I just want to f*** you". I left work that day feeling cheap. Feeling less than human. Feeling as though the sum of my existence was just a collection of body parts in animate form created for the servitude of men. I was very, very confused as this was not what I thought being an adult was going to be like. My parents always actively aimed to empower me growing up. But then another lesson was awaiting me. A much harsher one. The next time I went to work, I was called into my manager's office for reprimand. I can't even recall what it was about. Had I somehow shortchanged the vending machine in the lunch room? I hadn't done anything to the best of my knowledge but lo-and-behold, Robbie Williams' dopplegänger was also present during what surely should have been a confidential conversation. As my manager blathered on about being disappointed with my performance, Robbie Williams' dopplegänger stared at me in defiance. It was a look most women have probably encountered in their lifetime. I've experienced it a few times since. All at once it subtly conveys to "stay quiet" and "don't f*** with me".
I was demoted that day. It was a shitty job with a shitty, toxic office culture that has had no influence on my current career path but this experience has still stayed with me ever since. It informed me as to my place was in the world. That I, as a female, would have my gender used against me.
This past week, the Harvey Weinstein scandal has taken over from Trump's latest foibles in capturing headlines. There are a lot of famous, influential names being mentioned and for some this may just be reflective of "Hollywood" and its hedonistic ways. But I feel that Hollywood (and all of pop culture) holds an accurate mirror to society. Men taking advantage of positions of power is not new and certainly not limited to the entertainment industry. However, getting men to realize and accept this amongst their brotherhood remains a challenge.
I've had conversations with respected, intelligent male friends and acquaintances that downplay this behaviour and seemingly excuse it. They shrug it off as simple fact that some men are like that and "boys will be boys". I've also heard the darker subtext though that women are lying in order to get something. "They are after money" is a common retort. Also, revenge. When I ask what they'd think of me if I made similar claims, I always get "you are not like that". But here I am. I have nothing to gain by relating this. I could even write a much, much longer journal entry about all my direct experiences with toxic masculinity but I don't really discuss it. It just feels a part of life in terms of being a woman. That men feel they have ownership of your body and your dignity. But it shouldn't. It should also be pointed out that every close female friend I have has also been sexually assaulted in her lifetime. This has nothing to do with seeking attention or superficial remuneration and everything to do with the simple fact that a lot of men don't view women as human.
After leaving the telemarketing firm that day, I never returned. Not even to pick up my last paycheque. I also never told anyone at the time. Not my friends. Not my family. Certainly not my father, who would have literally killed the guy. I simply internalized it, feeling ashamed and low for something that was done to me, not by me. I have been very fortunate with subsequent workplaces where this type of behaviour hasn't been displayed. However, I have still encountered it with many other men that have come-and-gone from my orbit. Entitled men that become both verbally and physically abusive in attempts to demonstrate their power. Men that use coercion to get what they want over common courtesy or respect. The Weinstein story is, again, simply a mirror that is making us look uncomfortably at our blemishes as a society. I have no faith that things will change in my lifetime but it is encouraging to see people using their voice to share, relate and move towards that betterment. This isn't something a woman has to face alone.
My favourite month of the year is October because the weather cools, because pumpkin spice everything, because Halloween, because wine, wigs and pretending you are a supermodel in a George Michael music video just feels especially right on a Friday night:
Autumn is my favourite season of the year. It brings back wonderful memories of my childhood, especially of playing through the harvest fields with my dad and first dog. It also signals the arrival of one of my favourite flavours: pumpkin. I don't care how basic this makes me seem, I freakin' love pumpkin spice-flavoured things!!! As I've been trying to attempt one new recipe per week, I decided that this would be the one where I dive into it.
TwoPeasandtheirPod is one of my favourite websites for learning new recipes. Their resource index is vast and contains meals and treats that are sweet and savoury, healthy and indulgent, all using fresh ingredients that are easily* found in most grocery stores. One of the things they are most well-known for are the variety of cookie recipes offered, which is where I found the base for these pumpkin cinnamon cookies that I slightly modified for my tastes. They are absolute DELICIOUS and make one's home smell heavenly. I added raisins for flavour and texture, subtracted the cinnamon sugar topping, and substituted vanilla extract for an actual vanilla bean. This is the first time I got to bake with a vanilla bean, thanks to a lovely colleague who shared them with me.
For the original TwoPeasandtheirPod recipe, click here or check my slightly modified version below.
*Cinnamon chips are not easy to find in Canada (and Bulk Barn, where I purchased mine, has just discontinued them). However, I feel these could be eliminated from the recipe and flavour would not be sacrificed. In the future, I would probably add butterscotch chips instead.
Ingredients:
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (I use Daybreak Mills which is organic and locally made in my province of Saskatchewan).
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 tsps ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 3/4 cup unsalted butter
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 3/4 cup pure pumpkin
• 1 large egg
• 1 vanilla bean
• 1 cup cinnamon chips
• 1 cup thompson raisins
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.
2. In a medium-sized bowl, combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and spices.
3. In a large-sized bowl, whisk softened butter with brown and granulated sugars. Add the pumpkin, egg and vanilla bean seeds and then whisk more until it develops a creamy texture.
4. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and mix until well combined. Add cinnamon chips and raisins and fold until blended.
5. Scoop approximately 12 balls onto baking sheets. Lightly press with spatula or hand. Bake for 12 minutes. Repeat until all dough is used (should make approximately thirty cookies).
Prepping my kitchen
Flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and spices are combined.
Pumpkin is one of the most beloved flavours of autumn.
These cookies mark the first time I've used an actual vanilla bean rather than extract.
Cinnamon chips and raisins are added to the dough.
The final product was well enjoyed by all who received it (and an added bonus: my home smelled heavenly afterwards).