Pre/Post

I walked into this weekend a kite neophyte and emerged a die-hard kite enthusiast.

Spinach & cheese manicotti - I overcooked the mozzarella topping a bit.  I like it when it gets chewy and leathery but this was just a tad over.

This weekend was another exercise in lovely.  It had a bit of everything.  Friends, family, home time, getting stuff done, personal time, nuclear family time.  It was perfectamundo and it strengthened my resolve to not over-schedule us.  We sat down to dinner on Sunday night, with the rain drizzling down and a cold, hard, bracing fall chill in the air and I looked at the faces of the people I love most in the world around the dining room table and it was one of those moments that encapsulates what life is about.  Perfect.  A big plate of spinach and three cheese stuffed manicotti, a salad, some garlic bread, a large bottle of seasonal pumpkin beer, the Big Yam randomly shouting: "Chew-ca-ba!" and his other current nonsensical catchphrase, "Bung-Gung!" and the sounds of the Dotytron's new favorite satellite radio station, the wind symphony station, filling our house with mad dynamic range and swelling emotion - it was perfect.

Friday night we squandered Friday Night Takeout Night.  Big time.  We tried this place near us, called The Fuzz Box, which purports to sell real Nova Scotian donairs.  Which apparently you JUST CAN'T GET anywhere else in Toronto.  Uhhh, there's a reason for that.  They're disgusting.  A donair is a shaved meat-stack sandwich featuring slices of peppery meat, served on a pita, with a light sprinkling of chopped tomato and onion.  I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that this sounds an awful lot like a gyro.  Well, what differentiates a donair from a gyro is a sauce that's specific to the donair, which is charmingly called the "jizz."  It's a white, runny but viscous, condensed milk based sauce which is sweet.  Appallingly sweet.  As soon as I heard this I was deeply suspect and therefore got my donair with sauce on the side.  To me, it's disgusting.  Completely unbalanced and without it, my sandwich was dry as all get out.  Now, I LOVE the lemon sauce that comes on a gyro.  And I love tzatiki.  So the question becomes, why would I eat a donair when I could have a gyro?  That question will never be asked again, because I'm never eating another donair.  It's sooooo sweet!  We also got garlic fingers, which is a big pizza spread with garlic butter and topped with cheese and then cut into a million thin wedges which was as good and stoner-food-y as the description suggests.  We also got fried pepperoni, which is another classic Nova Scotian bar snack.  This was also good.  But neither of these were worth the price of admission.  We were bummed.  It sucks wasting a Friday Night Takeout Night.  But we're never gonna know unless we try, right?

Saturday was Mandarin.  Emery's parents (note the plural!) were BOTH there, so I'm not sure what's going on with that.  It was a review class.  Not gonna lie: I aced it.  The Big Yam, not so much.  LOL!  

Then we biked down to the Beach for Wind Fest, which is a kite festival and OMGWTFKITESKITESKITES!  Obviously the Dotytron like, immediately bought a kite.  I can't tell you the number of times he faux-casually mentioned, "there's a booth over there selling kites..." We immediately became COMPLETELY KITE OBSESSED.  Ummmmmmm...kites are the bomb.  Are they a cruel mistress?  Yes.  But is it the funnest thing in the world, controlling a kite?  YES! YES! A THOUSAND TIMES, YES!  We basically came away cursing every minute of our lives NOT spent flying a kite.  It was also cool just to watch the kites in action:

No joke, this kite was like, 30 feet long.  It's being held up by the other kite flying above it.  I can't even get into how awesome this kite was.  I took a million photos trying to capture the kite's majesty and failing miserably.  It was infuriating.  

We had R & R over for dinner on Saturday which was lovely.  R is the cutest preggo I've ever seen!  For some reason, whenever we get together with those guys it becomes the airing of the couples' grievances, which is pretty funny.  R is like me on steroids.  I mean that literally, in the sense that before she got preggo she was lifting 50lb weights, and I mean that figuratively, in that she's a souped up, more driven, more exacting version of me.  It's pretty scary/admirable.  Those two are having their baby shower at the Mandarin, which is obviously the most boss location you could pick.

Anyway, because they are the BEST GUESTS EVER, they brought oysters (Pemaquid, Kumamoto, French Kiss) and a bunch of beers - COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY, GUYS! - and I made us bouillabaisse with rouille and toast and a salad of pancetta wrapped figs & arugala and the Dotytron made an apple cake which didn't make it out of the pan in one piece, but which was still pretty delicious.

Sunday was off the chains.  I made 9 (!) jars of concord grape jelly (the process is easy, but kind of a giant pain, if that makes sense - recipe below), and we had Momma D by for breakfast (scrambled eggs with corn & scallions, salsa, avocadoes, toast, sausage from The Sausage Partners) and then she watched the Big Yam while the Dotytron and I cleaned the basement, which was in dire need of a post-reno, post-us-not-giving-a-s**t re-org.  Now it's glorious and makes sense.  Huzzah!  

 Slipper shot

So we did ALL THAT this weekend.  And yet still managed to find time to watch episodes of Louie and knit (me) and play guitar (the Dotytron) and be cozy with the Big Yam and feel like we weren't under the gun every second.  It was perfection.  I can't stress it enough.  My attempts to limit weekends to something manageable is resulting in weekends that feel restorative and constructive, which is precisely what they're meant to be, naw mean?  

Fin.




---------------------------------------------------------
Concord Grape Jelly
makes about 9 pints

8 lbs of concord grapes, stemmed
2 granny smith apples, chopped (seeds and skins and all)
4 1/2 cups of sugar

- stir together the grapes and the apples with 1/2 c. of water in a big stockpot.  Bring to a boil, put a lid on and reduce to a simmer, and simmer 10 minutes.
- strain into a measuring cup.
- strain that liquid again through a wet cheesecloth
- take the twice-strained liquid and pout into a large stock pot.  Stir in the sugar.  Turn on the heat and bring to a boil.  Boil, skimming off the foam until it reaches 220F or until desired level of set is reached.
- process in sterilized jars for 10 minutes in a boiling water canning bath.

MINE! All Mine!!!

Treat yo' self 2012.  As you know, I've been kind of obsessed with satchels.  I've had my eye on the Cambridge ones, but they were a bit too rich for my blood (ASOS was selling them for around $215 depending on the color/trim).  Anyway, this week I stumbled upon an ASOS promo code and I decided to treat myself to a 14" Leather Satchel Company schoolboy satchel in oxblood leather.  It came to $130 (including shipping) for real leather, which I think is a pretty darned good deal!  I'm in looooove with it.  

I don't know what the difference is between the Leather Satchel Company and the Cambridge Satchel Company, but I suspect that it's the same difference as Uggs vs. Emus.  Same product, different name with less cachet, lower price.  

Other than that, my fall wardrobe buying has consisted of a few pairs of tights and some stuff from Joe:

I also got a classic two-tone oxford shirt from the Gap:

And that's about it.  I'm on the lookout for some black booties and a pair of black pumps for work and I'm donezo.  I feel like the booties will look nice with all the skirts and dresses I generally wear in the winter.

Fin.

Current faves

So the Big Yam is Big Verbal right now - he can basically parrot anything you say (which can be dangerous, as in the case last night on the bench at dodgeball when he repeated the key word in my phrase, "your mama's playing like s**t tonight" - SPOILER ALERT: the key word wasn't "tonight"), and it leads to funny moments like when he says, "sixty bucks" or when he mimics my exasperated, "hello?!?" that I often yell up the stairs at a lolly-gagging Dotytron, who has invariably told me that he's ready to go but then keeps me waiting at the door while he listens to a Sonny Rollins record in his room.

One of my faves is when he gets so excited by what he's seeing that he can't formulate the words.  Last night on the way home from dodgeball we pulled up alongside a bus and he goes, "Mama! Baba! -----" and you could tell that every synapse in his brain was firing with "BUS!" and his body was vibrating with excitement but he was SO pumped he couldn't actually get the word out.  He pointed out the window and and tried to get the word out and it was the cutest thing.

Another fave is me teaching him about being "cozy."  In the morning, I've built in enough time (because I wake up at 5:45am thanks to a certain someone) that when he gets up I can scoop him into bed with me and pull the covers over his legs or pull him onto the couch with me and his bottle of nai-nai and pull Nany Dotytron's afghan over our legs and tuck the coverings in around his feet and tell him that we're being cozy.  Now he asks for it and it's the sweetest.

Final Big Yam fave.  Ever since he's been a wee bobbin, if I was wearing him in the carrier or strolling him in the stroller, I would periodically stop abruptly and say, "Guess what?  I love you."  Last week I was wearing him on my back on our way to daycare and I stopped and said, "Guess what?" and he said, "Lallooo" and it's the cutest, dearest thing ever.

Recently we watched the documentary, Marley.  It's an extremely well-produced and entertaining documentary that offers a glimpse into Bob Marley's early years and historical context for the creation and popularization of reggae music.  If I had one critique, it's that the documentary doesn't critique his womanizing (and his wife, Rita's, tacit enabling of it) or the deification of him.  First-hand testimony from his wife, some of his mistresses, his kids, and people like Bunny Wailer and Lee Scratch Perry alongside archival footage and still shots makes up the bulk of the documentary and while I still feel that Bob himself is a bit of a cipher at the core of the film, the doc is extremely well produced and interesting.  Like, hello, Rastafarianism, much?!  And what's with believing that Haile Selassie is the second coming of Jesus?  It's insanely interesting and has lead to some homework on our parts figuring out the religion and where Selassie fits in, which in turn has lead to looking up Marcus Garvey and reading up on the pan-African movement and the repatriation of Jamaica.  Fascinating stuff.

One of my favorite things from the doc was listening to early Wailers tunes - before reggae was created,  when it was ska and the unique sound that developed from the Jamaican attempt to replicate the 50s/60s doowop sound.  I particularly loved this song called "Selassie is the Chapel" which I had never heard before, but it's this sweeping, beautiful ballad with gorgeous, thrumming, swooping harmonies.  It's just gorgeous.  What the film made me realize was just how prodigiously talented Marley was and what a colossal shame that he died so young.  I mean, we've all heard the tunes off of Legend a million times over, and I am definitely guilty of feeling like they're played out, but situated within the context of musical history and culture, I have a new found respect.  Let's face it - the tunes are catchy and poppy as all get-out and they deserve to be played as often as they are.  Digging deeper into earlier catalogue is also rewarding.  Peep these two tunes:

Tuesday night's dinner was kimchi fried rice topped with a fried egg.  I've switched over to pan frying in coconut oil and I'm a total convert!  It burns clean, is loaded with good fats, and bonus: your house smells all coconutty when you heat it up (but no coconut flavour is imparted to the food).  I'm sold!  This was made with kimchi made by our neighbour's mom, who we call halmoni (the Korean word for grandmother)

Last night's Greek mac'n'cheese

Tonight was leftover night. 

Fin.

Not-PC

There's this kid in our Mandarin class named "Emery" which is a perfectly lovely name...except when it's pronounced by someone with a thick Chinese accent (as is the case with our truly amazing instructor), because then it sounds like the teacher is mis-pronouncing the name "Emily."  I know it's not very politically correct for me to find this mildly amusing - and yet I CAN'T NOT.

Tonight is the first game of dodgeball after a looooooong hiatus (almost a year?)  I had dodgeball dreams last night that involved me freaking out because our team is inexperienced (true in real life - TIRL) and no one knew what they were doing (TIRL) or had read the rules (TIRL) and I was screaming my head off (TIRL) and we lost (TBD, but probably TIRL) and I lost my voice (TBD, but probably TIRL).  I've been having funny dreams lately.  The other night, the Big Yam was upset in the middle of the night and I felt like a squish and a cuddle so I pulled him into bed with us at like, 2am.  This is generally a mistake.  This means that he will kick and roll and heavy-breathe and otherwise be a giant nuisance and disrupt my sleep, all for the numbing 5 seconds of pleasure I get upon waking up bleary eyed and seeing him sleeping soundly.  Seriously...it's never quite as idyllic as it seems in my head and I definitely never get as great a sleep.  Most of the time, anyway.  That night, I dreamed the Jean-Ralphio from Parks and Recreation (pictured above) had come up with a whistle-y 2 note song and it was repeating and driving me crazy.  Upon waking up and gazing lovingly at the prone and prostrate form of my sweet little Boobla Khan, I realized that the two note song of my dreams was really the sound of his whistling, clogged little nose as he breathed.  LOL!  Worst!

I recently finished Amy Waldman's The Submission.  I also am going on record as saying that it is CRIMINAL that this book was overlooked for the Pulitzer, or that awful, boring, tripe-y books like Emma Donoghue's Room get short-listed for prizes instead.  This is one of the smartest books I've read in a long time.  The book talks about a jury in Manhattan charged with selecting the monument that will stand in place of the World Trade Centre towers.  A blind competition, the entire process is derailed when they submission they select turns out to have been created by a Muslim-American by the name of Mohamed.  As the jury, America, the media, the architect, are thrown into each other's orbit, the author makes sage and astute observations about the state of American media, about art, about artistic intention, about Islamaphobia, about the roots of fundamentalism, about lobbyists, about politics and politicians, about grief, and about this moment in time for the America that was changed by the events of 9/11.  I know, I know.  When I write it like that you think this is going to be a boring, didactic treatise.  But it's not, I swear!  The characters are so well constructed and each position is so nuanced that you don't feel like you're being lectured.  Instead, I found that the story made me think about the intractability of Islam-focused racism in the United States and how few options there are to move forward with the discussion.  In light of the shootings at the Sikh temple in Wisconsin, the anniversary of 9/11 that recently passed, the subsequent discussions about what constitutes "terrorism," and how we still consider the default American (or Canadian) to be white, this need for this kind of discussion is heightened in my mind.  This book is a pleasure to read and made me think about the dimensions of "the nation."

I needed something lighter after that so I hate-read Pamela Druckerman's Bringing Up Bébé which capitalizes on the current fixation with motherhood and parental anxieties by telling us how American kids are  undisciplined hooligans and how French children are so well behaved and polite and will eat anything and you can take them to restaurants, etc.  I'm being glib, but look at the subject matter.  Again, this was a piece of anxious, navel-gazing parental neuroses masquerading as some kind of quasi-armchair academic study of why some other parenting style is mystical and has all the answers and why Americans are raising a generation of boors (not entirely untrue).  Basically, I found the book a bit of a bore because the author adopts this weird, neophyte voice where she's like a babe wandering through the woods: "Why is my daughter so ill-behaved?  Why won't she sleep through the night?" and the proscriptions of the French are so common sense that it's ridiculous that people feel they need someone to tell them.  I think ultimately, that's my problem with the book.  I've discovered I have a major problem when people turn to books for things that you don't need books for.  To me, it just shows a lack of critical awareness and lack of confidence in your own good judgement.  When did parenting become a thing you learned in a book?  When did it get to the point where we need someone with authority to tell us that we have to establish a framework and discipline our kids?  The problem with this book is that this book has to exist and got any traction at all.  The "French" style is basically common-sense: go into things thinking that your baby is supposed to sleep through the night, be stern, have expectations, blah blah blah.  Anyway, you don't have to read this book.  The reviews encapsulate the arguments perfectly and the author is a bit of a pill.

Tonight for dinner we had freezer Greek mac'n'cheese and a salad of baby arugala with roasted beets.

Fin.

Wa-wa-wa-weekend

In which: we are unjustly persecuted in Mandarin class (to keep things thematically sound?) and we take a side trip to Lahore and Nicaragua.

We had a big, ol' UN weekend around here.  Friday night was Sukhothai with Momma D and Ehmdo.  Saturday morning we hit up the Brickworks Farmer's Market for those breakfast crepes from that guy, Clement, that we love.  It was kind of a s**tshow though.  Clement and his assistant are super passive-aggressive with each other and work so slow it makes the former line cook in me go inwardly ballistic.  But the breakfast crepes are so good.  Ham, a cracked egg, mozzarella cheese, scallions and hollandaise.  So freakin' tasty.  AND they do that thing I love where you melt some cheese on the griddle so it gets all crispy and toasty and lacy on the outside of the crepe.  I just wish they could work twice as fast.

We picked up concord grapes which I turned into a beautiful, gorgeous, thick and luscious jelly.  I ate it this morning for breakfast on PB on toast and it was divine.  Plus, Lil' Ugmo smelled so deliciously grape-y on Sunday that it was delightful.

So yeah, Mandarin.  The teacher came up to me and the Dotytron during the break and was all like, "Jennifer said that only one parent is allowed per child." And we're like, ummmm...okay, EXCEPT THERE WERE AT LEAST 3 OTHER KIDS WHO HAD BOTH PARENTS THERE AND SHE ONLY TALKED TO US ABOUT IT.  We were, in fact, STANDING NEXT TO another kid who had both her parents there.  We were totally like, "WTF?!" about it and are prepared to make a big stink next class if we see other people getting away with it.  PERSECUTION.  Truth be told, we had already decided that we were going to divide and conquer for the Mandarin class - that way, the other person can have a morning to do their own thing at home.

Saturday was kind of bucktown.  We followed up the farmer's market and Mandarin with this apple festival being held in support for a local community centre/drop-in centre where the Big Yam had his first bouncy castle experience.  Him being the cautious, safety-conscious little bobbin that he is, he basically spent the entire time kneeling at the front of the castle, clutching the edge, and grinning cheerfully at us and looking enormously proud as he slowly rocked up and down, like a rubber ducky in a tub.  I don't know where this cautious nature comes from, but it's quite hilarious to behold.  I think he might get it from Poppa D.

Saturday night we were supposed to go to our friend L's birthday party, but bailed because we are routinely EXHAUSTED and because we had an impromptu visit from the Roomie and T and later, L'Armi.  I made us chicken tikka masala and green beans thoren with brown rice and we bought garlic naan and palak paneer from Lahore Tikka House:

Sunday morning we had breakfast - waffles and English bacon and smoothies and then we hung out and I worked on my presentation and then we had dinner with Dr. Rei and Hanbo at La Bella Managua, which is a Nicaraguan restaurant Dr. Rei recommend.  SO GOOD!  We had ceviche with plantain chips, this giant tamale, and this fried yucca and fried cheese appetizer that came with avocado salsa.  For our main, the Dotytron got a carne asada with a mix of sweet and salty plantains, rice and beans and I had this dish of fried pork (like chicharrons) layered with a cabbage salad on more yucca.  Yucca for life!  The Big Yam went to town on it.  It's so good.

Then for dessert we went to Baker Bots.  They do cookies and make build-you-own ice cream sandwiches with Greg's Ice Cream.  The cookies are soft and yielding and they pack a tonne of ice cream into the sandwich.  You can get either one cookie cut  in half or a whole cookie.  A whole cookie would be an insane amount of sweet to eat.  I got an "everything" cookie (which is similar to the Momofuku compost cookie) with sweet cream ice cream.  The Dotytron got a peanut butter cookie with sweet cream ice cream.  

Why I love my 'hood: neighbours who buy facepainting kits and paint your kid's face for you, thereby mitigating 30 minute lineups for the service.

AND this weekend I made homemade oatmeal cream pies (homage to Little Debbie) and I NAILED it.  Two soft, chewy, oat-y cookies sandwiching a filling of marshmallow cream-whoopie pie filling.  I mashed up a couple of oatmeal cookie recipes and came out with a winner, especially after pumping up the salt quotient so you got a nice sweet-salty juxtaposition.

Fin.

-------------------------------------------------------------
Oatmeal Cream Pies
makes about 12 4" sandwich cookies

For the cookie:

1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter
1/2 c. + 2 T. brown sugar
1/2 c. white sugar
2 eggs
1 c. + 2 T. all purpose flour
1/2 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
2 1/4 c. rolled oats

For the marshmallow cream filling:
1 stick unsalted butter
2 c. confectioner's sugar
1 7oz jar of marshmallow fluff

Cookie:
- cream butter and sugars together until fluffy, about 2-5 minutes
- add eggs and beat well
- stir in dry ingredients on low speed
- using a 1.5" ice cream scoop, portion out balls of cookie dough on a silpat-lined cookie sheet (about 8 per tray), leaving 2 inches between.  Refrigerate the dough balls for at least 1 hour.
- preheat oven to 350F.  Transfer cookie sheets directly to oven from fridge.  Bake for about 14-16 minutes until they're evenly lightly golden brown on top.
- transfer trays to racks to cool.

Filling:
- cream together all ingredients until well mixed.  Try to match up 2 cookies and spread with 1 1/2 T. of filling and then sandwich them together.

Overheard

Overheard by one of my teacher friends, who has an office where the windows allow for mad courtyard eavesdropping without being seen:

Group of boys (probably aged 12 or 13):

"I think she might like girls"
"Well, she says she's not a virgin"
"She said she's been penetrated before"
"Do you know what that means?!?  'Pene-' as in penis '-trated'!"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

Especially hilarious given the letter that is being offered to conservative Christians and Muslims asking that parents be warned before "sensitive" topics (like homosexuality, environmentalism, sexuality, marriage, and evolution) are brought up in the classroom.

Yep, that's obviously what today's kids need.  LESS INFORMATION.

Clearly, they're being taught all they need to know at home.

Fin.

Getting owned

Momma D emailed me and asked me what's been keeping me at work lately (I've worked through lunch and stayed late already a bunch this week) so I was like, "LEMME TELL YOU" and broke it down into a giant 10 page email.  It's so bucktown right now!  So many research requests!  And we're hosting this conference and I'm presenting a panel session in addition to intro-ing two other sessions.  And I applied for these two Research positions that I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get but I'm prepping for interviews in case I get called anyway.  One of the positions requires knowledge of macroeconomics and quantitative research experience so I'm boning up on Excel and making tables and graphs with it.

This life, man.  It's intensity in ten cities.

AND YET.  In the morning, when I leave the house with the Big Yam nattering away on my back in the Ergo  pulling my bike loaded with the sundries I need for a day of work alongside, there is a nip and a chill and a briskness in the air that says that summer is steadily loosening its suffocating grip and we are easing our way into fall weather.  And as we all know, I LOVE FALL WEATHER.  My heart thrums with excitement!  Forget ice creams and semifreddoes - here comes leisurely weekend baking, the house redolent of cinnamon, feeling the cold tile of the kitchen under our feet as we make deliciously rich weekend breakfasts, the return of sweater dresses and tights and thick scarves looped around my neck.  I'm feeling fall, y'all.  I'm feeling it in a big big way.  I'm feeling one-pot dinners, braises, thick nourishing carb-laden meals and proper Sunday suppers featuring giant joints of meat that have roasted slowly all day.  I'm feeling pulling out Nanny Dotytron's crochet afghan and sitting on the couch after dinner when it's already dark at 7pm and reading stories with the Big Yam tucked in next to me wearing his little leather moccasins.

I've got fall fever.  I think this year's fall wardrobe will include some kind of bootie for work.  I'm feeling like my "all flats all the time" policy is due for some reassessment to help me be a grown-up.  The problem is I have giant calves, so I need something that's gonna make my ankles look nice and trim.

In other news: major Halloween costume progress has been made.  Dr. Rei and I hit up the Eaton Centre and surroundings on Tuesday night.  Haven't been to a mall in forevers.  Here's my ranking of best tunes played in mall stores:

1) Forever 21
2) Hot Topic - Dr. Rei: "Are we seriously in here right now?"

Last place would be everything else: Zara, H&M, Ardene, Claire's.  Yikes, is all I have to say.  Yikes.

The reason why we were even around the mall is because we saw Celeste and Jesse Forever.  Which was co-written by Rashida Jones.  It's about Celeste and Jesse, who have been together since high school, got married, and are separated but still together all the time.  It's about what you do when you still love your significant other but they're not right for you and you're maybe not IN love with them any more.  There were some really great, funny moments.  It's filmed in that hipster-y, washed-out, sun-refracting Hipstamatic style that's so popular with the young folks nowadays.  This can lend everything a very hazy, L.A.-feel which is good sometimes, but can feel kind of lazy other times.  The soundtrack is also kind of annoying and invasive. The performances are pretty good - especially from Jones and Samberg.  Elijah Wood is wasted as this weird gay one dimensional co-worker character who never really gets fleshed out.  Emma Roberts plays a spoiled teen pop-tart on par with Miley Cyrus or Ke$ha and does a good job.  She has luminous skin and expressive eyes.  She's SO YOUNG.  My problem with this movie was the story.  It kind of makes sense and then it kind of doesn't.  I dunno.  I get that sometimes you can love someone but still not be your best self around them.  But I feel that the script doesn't really convey why  they're not right for each other or shouldn't be together, because Celeste and Jesse's rapport (and the chemistry between the two actors) is so convincing.  They don't seem like they shouldn't be together.  Or, if they shouldn't be together, there shouldn't be so much longing for each other.  I feel like the thought of still being with any one of my exes fills me with disgust and revulsion.  Wait.  Let me verify.  

Yup, still filled with disgust (I just went and looked at photos of my exes).  I'm just like, if you want to be with them so bad, you should be with them, ya know?  Anyway, those are my thoughts.  The movie also seems to say that being best friends isn't enough and I would disagree.

The stuffed eggplant

Monday dinner: penne with eggplant, grape tomatoes, olives & basil

Wednesday dinner: pulled pork, coleslaw, corn

Fin.

Grand Electric

Psych! Here's the thing about lining up for tacos (keep in mind, I'm planning on visiting Grand Electric someday), I can make perfectly good tacos at home.  Like, absolutely delicious tacos.  That's what we did on Friday.  I had the day off and I packed off the Big Yam to daycare (with some twinges of guilt) and cleaned the house and prepped tacos in advance of Dr. Rei and Hanbo's visit.  I made fish tacos and shrimp tacos and we had them with awesome tortillas from La Tortilleria and the green tomatillo salsa and the smoky red salsa from La Tortilleria as well.  Some chopped avocado, a cabbage-carrot slaw, some crema, some home made tortilla chips - so easy and so delicious, plus it's AYCE and you can't beat the price or setting.  AND we had that toasted almond meringue lemon curd semifreddo for dessert, and I have a hard time believing that anything Grand Electric serves up can test that.

We had such a good time chatting with those guys.  We covered a lot of topics - my chances of getting an interview for these jobs I'm applying for, which yielded this photo of Dr. Rei being a good bff and laying it down:

I love this photo because she looks like her beloved Pai Mei from Kill Bill. 

Also: check Uncle Hanbo reading the Big Yam a story!

We also covered "hipster racism" and artistic intent and the coming US-election.  It was aces.  The conversation also yielded this classic M-R-I exchange:

The Dotytron puts Des'ree's "You Gotta Be" on the Youtube.

Dr. Rei: "Who is this?"

The Dotytron: "I don't actually know.  Jodeci?"

Me: "Uhhh, Jodeci is a guy."

Dr. Rei: "Actually, Jodeci is TWO guys!"

LOL!  I don't know why I find that so funny, but it was hilarious at the time.  

Here are some "after" shots of the Lil' Ugmo facelift:

I'm still waiting for the shelf that I want to use as a landing strip to come in.  We have to put that up and my junk store oval mirror and then it's pretty much done (barring a light fixture for what used to be hallway light).

Saturday we showed up late like classic skidballs to our first Parent & Tot Mandarin class.  It was pretty good!  It's only 45 minutes long and it's basically an extended story/circle time at the drop-in centre.  We did songs, then a game, then a story/interactive play with a vocabulary lesson in which I eagerly glommed onto the Mandarin words for "rabbit" and "frog" that closely match the Cantonese.  The point of this class was to get the kids used to calling their mom's "Mama" and their dad's "Baba" which means the Big Yam had a bit of a home ice advantage.  The best was the Big Yam walking in (late), sitting down and listening to one song and then getting up and saying, "All done!" and trying to leave the class.  LOL!  The other best thing was that we gossiped about the other kids and parents when we were in the car coming home.  We learned two lines of a song and I think it's pretty fun.  I'm excited to go back.  

The other good thing about Saturday class is that we get to hit up Chinese food in Markham/Scarborough afterwards.  This week we met my mum for lunch at Congee Queen.  Otherwise, it was a pretty lazy weekend, which was nice.  I think I'm going to make a concerted effort (she says now) to not overschedule us on weekends.  It was nice having the one night of socializing and then two whole days and evenings to work on our own stuff and be relaxed and chill around the house.  We biked out to Riverdale Farm and stumbled upon the Cabbagetown Festival.  We hung out with our neighbours and planted some mums in the garden and did laundry and put up pictures and visited briefly with the Roomie and baby T.  It was all so delightfully lowkey:

I could use a million more of those types of weekends, please!

Saturday night we had take out night and we tried this Thai place called Sukho Thai, which is the restaurant from which Khao San Road spun off.  The benefit of Sukho Thai is that it's not in clubland and they pay lower rent (= lower prices for similar - and some same - dishes!) and it's close enough that we can nip out and get take out and eat in the comfort of our own home (big bonus for us).  We had the Guaytiaw Sukhothai, which is like a Thai take on Vietnamese pho - in this case, the broth is punched up with lovely anise and sour notes.  We had it with beef brisket and it was tender and flavourful.   We also had the Pad Kee Mao with chicken and the Gaeng Panang with beef.  The last dish we ordered spicy and they weren't joking about the heat levels.  All the flavours were incredibly well balanced and in proportion - it was incredibly delicious and a great alternative to Jean's Vegetarian Kitchen for when I'm looking for meat-filled Thai food.  So good!  I'm glad we have this restaurant in our back pocket now.  

We were talking restaurants with the neighbours and the Dotytron was summing up our attitude towards restaurants which is basically like, we want to spend either $10 a plate or like, $60 a plate and be wowed.  Anything in between is completely uninteresting to us.  That's where you get a lot of your typical "neighbourhood" joints where the food is good, but nothing outstanding or worth travelling over.  If it's just protein, starch and vegetables on a plate and there's not much in the way of inventiveness or technique, I'm not interested and I'd much rather cook and entertain and eat at home, really.

Taco salad!

Roasted tomato soup, grilled cheese & pepper jelly sandwiches and kale chips

Fish & shrimp tacos

Toasted almond meringue & lemon curd semifreddo

Wild blueberry buttermilk pancakes & smoky thick-cut Mennonite bacon

 I've found my go-to buttermilk pancake recipe.  I've posted it at the end of this post.

All-in-all, a great way to close off the first week of the school year.  I love my family and I love that fall is coming and that we can start hunkering down at home more.  I started working on my quilt again and I pulled out my knitting and I jarred up 5 litres of my tomato sauce.  I'm also doubling up on a dinner once a week (so I made two dinners' worth of the stuffed eggplant) to go in the freezer so that one day a week all the Dotytron has to do is turn on the oven or reheat something already prepared.  

Yay fall!

Fin.

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Blueberry Buttermilk Pancakes

makes about 16 regular sized pancakes and a bunch of silver dollar pancakes

2 c. all purpose flour

1/3 c. sugar

1 T. baking powder

1 T. baking soda

pinch of salt

2 c. buttermilk

3 eggs

- Mix the wet ingredients together 

- Stir together the dry ingredients then whisk wet into dry.  Whisk until no lumps remain.

- Stir in 2 T. of melted butter and 2 c. of wild blueberries (or whatever fruit you want to mix in)

- cook as per usual.

Movie Reviews

We've done high brow and low brow lately.  Here it is:

Yeah.  The 21 Jump Street re-boot.  Not much to say here.  It was medium to not-very funny.  Channing Tatum is charming, but this year in film has pretty much guaranteed that you already know that, even if you haven't seen him handle a comedic role.  The story is a mess and it's worth a chuckle.  Comedy is a tough game these days.  It's really hard to get it right and have you busting a gut from start to finish.  This didn't really do it for me.  Here's my question: what ever happened to unironic, non-pop-cultural-self-referential comedies like Police Academy?  Think about it.

I was super-hesitant about seeing this movie because I suspected that the source material was a mess and I'm not really into rape scenes in film.  I just don't have the stomach for it.  I'm also not a rabid David Finch fanboy.  This surprised me by being entertaining enough, but it's a bit of a hot mess.  Like, I'm not really sure how anyone took it seriously and how it didn't end up in like, shlock-horror-ville.  You've got Nazis, incest, rape, tattoos, lesbianism...it's such a giant mixed bag and the story is nearly incomprehensible.  I will say that the film looks stark and pretty enough, although I think David Fincher overplays the interior/exterior contrasts too much (Rooney Mara's Lisbeth's apartment is too blue and all the interior cabin scenes are too golden).  

We tried really hard to watch A Dangerous Method.  I mean, on paper, it looks fantastic.  Cronenberg! Fassbender! Viggo! Freud! Jung!  But then you reach the clunker and unfortunately she's put front and centre in this whole enterprise - Keira Knightley.  Watching Keira Knightly play crazy is an exercise in displaced embarrassment the likes of which I don't have the stomach for.  It's rare that I don't finish a film (or book).  This was one of those cases.  She is guilty of one of the most egregious cases of over-acting that I've ever seen and she relies on the most distracting facial contortion and tic that it makes you want to claw your own eyes out.  Also the pacing is glacial.  Also, the sets look really cheap.  Not good, my friends.  Avoid!

Fish Tank was the first in our little Fassbender double header (it's been a very Fassbender summer around here).  The film has a loose, improvisational, hand-held camera style that makes it feel impossibly real.  Casting young, novice actor Katie Jarvis (who came to the director's attention having an argument with her boyfriend at a bus station in one of the towns in which the movie is filmed) as Mia, a troubled, broody girl growing up in some East London projects, the film follows Mia after she's been booted from school for a few aimless days and weeks.  She gets into screaming matches with her  drunken, trashy mother, swears at her indolent sister, and half heartedly dreams of becoming a hip hop dancer (her dancing is atrocious - it's like, lazy hip hop - I wasn't entirely sure if the film is trying to purposely make her bad or if that's what's considered good dancing nowadays.  I'm pretty sure the director is trying to show how pointless all of Mia's imagined avenues for escape are.)  Into this world comes Michael Fassbender's charismatic womanizer, who is sleeping with the mom but also flirts dangerously with Mia as well.  Fassbender's character is the most disarming, charming sleazeball you've ever encountered and the masterfulness of the performance results in you never really knowing (like Mia) if he's really just a charming decent bloke or if you should listen to that frisson of distrust.  The movie also has a pretty dead-sexy (though icky) sex scene.  The performances from all the principal actors are excellent, even down to the little girl who plays Mia's bruised, foul-mouthed younger sister.  I highly recommend this.

Shame was a deep disappointment.  It is the second feature from director Steve McQueen and I've already rhapsodised about his first film, Hunger before.  This film is kind of colloquially known as the "Fassbender dangler movie" (or, at least it is by me).  Fassbender plays a sex addict who is visited by his sister (played by Carey Mulligan) and his life kind of unravels.  Now, I can't say enough how much I loved Hunger.  I also love Steve McQueen as a composer of shots.  He is a visual artist whose principle medium was film.  He brings that eye to his movie-making.  There are achingly beautiful shots in Shame - shots where your eye is drawn to the composition, the lines, the colours - every scene is a deeply pleasing aesthetic experience and sometimes you're aware of it and sometimes you're not.  There is an extended sequence where Fassbender's Brandon runs down a New York street and it will take your breath away.  Absolutely stunning.  Unfortunately, the story falls flat.  I get what McQueen is trying to do - he's trying to show Brandon's emotional detachment and the irony of how his sex addiction robs him (or is a symptom of?) his inability to really connect emotionally with anyone.  The problem is, that detachment leads to an emotional distance from the viewer that is then doubled by the aestheticization of the film.  So you're like, twice removed.  As a film about addiction, it is somewhat compelling.  It doesn't have the same showy tricks and flourishes as a Requiem for a Dream and I would argue that this makes it more interesting and thought provoking.  One scene in particular, when Brandon is going on a bender and engages in a threesome with prostitutes results in various shots of Fassbender's face as he's having an orgasm that mimicked the drawn, grotesque faces of meth addicts - I thought that was exceptionally clever.  However, the film falls flat.  Carey Mulligan is hopelessly, hopelessly miscast.  I think every time she's working in an American accent she's out of her league.  She's not that good an actress, quite frankly.  Some of the scenes drag on unnecessarily.  It becomes unnecessarily melodramatic near the end and veers off course.  It is purposefully sterile but it lacked the emotional resonance of Hunger.  I would definitely recommend it - for the visuals alone, but I was disappointed and saw major flaws.

Fin.

Bye, summer!

It's been swell.  I feel like the last weeks of summer kind of slipped us by.  Since coming back from the cottage it's been just non-stop getting the house unpacked and in order and a million trips to Ikea and going to town with a microfibre cloth on the new hardwood.

The Dotytron is a psychopath.  As soon as I get something new, I'm very meh if it gets thrashed.  I'm of the school of thought that furniture should be used and part of your life.  The Dotytron is the EXACT opposite and is losing his mind with, well, just about everything.  We got these new acrylic side tables and he freaks out when there's a smudge or a smear (note to all you furniture buyers: DO NOT buy clear acrylic anything if you have issues with smudges), claiming that any dirt on them makes us look like we live in "an 80s coke house" (he's not entirely wrong, there).

He basically chases us all around with one of those hardwood microfibre mops and a bottle of the spray cleaner.  I'm anticipating that as school starts to take more of his attention, that will wane and we'll go back to the "immaculate for company" style of housekeeping we usually favor.

This morning was a return to the yearly rhythms and schedule and I for one, while we had a glorious summer,  welcome it.  We were in bed by 10 and up just before 6am and it was a well-oiled machine around these parts.  The Big Yam and I got to J's house, EARLY, even!  It was just nice to be organized and stress-free and normal again.  And while I am stressing hard about knitting a million hats and mitts for the Boobla and gathering all the supplies for our Halloween costumes, I do love fall.  I'm excited to hunker down and not be out and about and have more intimate dinners at home with people as opposed to all the high-concept outings we do in the summer.

So I asked the Big Yam who he loves and without missing a nanosecond of a beat, he said, "Net" (what he call's J).  Hahaha.  So funny!  On Sunday morning, I made us this for breakfast:

Basically, breakfast tostadas featuring those delicious, thick, corn tortillas from La Tortilleria in Kensington, some casing-less chorizo (also from Kensington - Segovia's), sautéed up and home made refried black beans, a poached egg, some crema, chunks of avocado and some of the green salsa from La Tortilleria.  The big people got two per plate and the Big Yam got one.  A pretty big portion all around relative to our respective sizes.  So of course, being the speed-eater that I am, I hoovered my portion in like, 5 minutes.  The Dotyron took about 10.  The Big Yam wasn't feeling it at first.  He just kind of ate the beans and was more interested in drinking water.  He seemed content to sit there, though, so we left him and hung pictures.  Over the course of about an hour, he quietly and diligently polished off his plate.  Which included eating a poached egg which isn't generally his favorite egg preparation.  This made us realize that we need to GIVE THE LAD TIME (and also, slow down eating ourselves).  What we think of as being "snoopy" (which is a term from the Dotytron family for being a picky eater), is usually probably us just rushing him through his meal.  If he has time to sit and consider and work at his own pace, he'll eat everything.  A valuable lesson for all!

He's kind of the best right now.  I really enjoyed our walk to daycare this morning because he's talking so much and pointing stuff out and it's just thrilling watching him grown into his sentience.  He's getting pretty good with his letter recognition, too.  If we're reading a book or magazine he'll point out the letters he knows from the larger print.  We also haven't had to deal with diaper deuces in like, forever.  At least 3 months or so.  He just tells us he has to go do a poop in the potty and like, DOES it.  I'm telling you, early potty training is where it's at.  I can't say enough good things about it.  The sooner we can get this kid out of diapers, the better, as far as I'm concerned!

The weekend was so damn good - we did it up in style.  Friday we had our last swim at Lolly's.  Saturday was our last swim in the outdoor pool in our park before they closed it up.  Sunday we hung with our Discerning Coyote friend and JJ and S and their kids in the park before taking DC to Phoenix for his inaugural HK Style Cafe experience.  He's a big eater so it was nice to show him what we love about that kind of food.  Yesterday we went to Ward's Island for a picnic with S and P and some of their friends.  I loves me some Ward's Island, hard.  Yes, it's filled with hipsters who all have banging bodies and make you feel like hell for ordering mad Dairy Queen...but it's so nice to have a sand beach in Toronto.  I love living close to the beach!  I love having multiple beach options so accessible!  It feels like a bit more of an outing to pack up to the Island.

One of these people isn't thrilled about being part of this family.

All in all, it was a great wait to bid adieu to summer.

Tonight we had a tomato-basil tart with a salad of roasted peaches wrapped in proscuitto, arugala, and parmesan with balsamic vinaigrette.

Here's a video of the Big Yam doing his extra consonant thing at the end of words:

Toast-s-s

Bonus video of him saying "Chewbacca" on his Tumblr.

Fin.