January 26, 2012
1. It’s raining in Vancouver. Pouring, actually. I drag my suitcase through a series of puddles to a coffee shop, where I drop my waterlogged umbrella on a chair and immediately order a cappuccino while I wait for Diana. I’m halfway through the cappuccino when she bursts through the door wearing bright red boots, her hair dotted with raindrops and a miniature cupcake in each hand. It’s only been a couple of weeks since she moved to Vancouver, but it feels like much longer – there’s already so much to catch up on, and I could swear she looks just a little bit different, like this new city is starting to leave its impression.
2. Suede high-heeled ankle boots are a poor choice for a twenty-minute walk in a torrential downpour, but I’ve never been one to choose practicality over style. By the time we arrive at L’Abattoir (earlier that day I read that its name means “slaughterhouse”, which gave it a sort of sinister allure) there are pools of water sloshing back and forth in the toe of each shoe. My umbrella has also developed a leak somewhere between downtown and Gastown, and I can feel a few cold droplets creeping their way down my scalp. But inside the restaurant – a high-ceilinged, dimly-lit space full of exposed brick and intricate tile floors – we’re soon enveloped in the warm buzz of the place, drinks in our hands and a parade of plates in front of us while we talk and talk and talk.
3. The day begins with brunch at Medina Café: An egg, pita chips, tabbouleh salad, baba ghanoush, followed by a tiny waffle – edges crisp, centre almost custardy – slathered with orange fig marmalade and washed down with a lavender-spiked latte. It’s an unconventional combination, but it’s delicious, and it fuels us for the rest of the morning, which we spend wandering through Gastown’s shops. The rest of the day plays out in one continuous string of food-related moments: We buy exotic meats (elk sausage, venison prosciutto), cook up a lunch worthy of a restaurant, go out on a walk to work off the lunch, then return to the apartment to bake cookies. A few hours later we’re eating yet again: Plates of raw fish, Japanese-fusion style. By the end of the night, we never want to look at food again.
4. The attack is swift and unexpected, and neither of us see it coming: We’re at the Granville Island market, sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean and eating doughnuts out of brown paper bags. I take a bite of maple-glazed doughnut, and Diana pulls a chocolate doughnut out of the bag and begins to raise it to her mouth when suddenly there’s a whooshing sound and something firm and airborne smacks the back of my head. At the same time, Diana is yelling, jumping to her feet and shouting a string of obscenities at the sky: A seagull has just swooped in, stealing her doughnut directly out of her hand before soaring off over the water.
All photos taken on an iPhone 4S and processed with ShakeItPhoto.
January 17, 2012
A cold winter day calls for a specific type of dinner – something simple and hearty, full of rich flavours and deep colours; something that leaves you feeling warm and contented when you push your chair back from the table at the end of the meal. This dish – chicken wrapped in rich, salty pancetta and served with roasted butternut squash, tangy-sweet balsamic-glazed apples, and kale sautéed with onions and thyme – is the perfect winter comfort food. You can prepare the entire dinner in around an hour, or save time by roasting the butternut squash ahead of time (let it cool, wrap it, and keep in in the fridge), which will allow you to go from stove to plate in around half an hour.
Ingredients (serves 4):
- 4 Chicken breasts
- About 24 thin slices of pancetta
- 6 cups of kale
- 2 cloves of garlic, minced
- 1 yellow onion, chopped
- 1 medium-sized butternut squash
- 3 honeycrisp, royal gala, or other firm red apples, cut into 1-inch cubes
- 2 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped
- 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
- 1/4 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
- Olive oil
- Salt and pepper, to taste
Preparation:
- Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Slice the butternut squash lengthwise, scoop out the seeds, then lay it cut-side-up on a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and roast until cooked through. This should take around 45 minutes, give or take, depending on the size of the squash. Allow the roasted squash to cool, then cut into 1-inch cubes (discarding the peel).
- Wrap each chicken breast in several strips of pancetta, making sure each strip begins and ends on the bottom of the chicken breast to prevent them from unwrapping while cooking. Place the chicken on a rimmed baking sheet (the pancetta will release fat as it cooks, and you don’t want this dripping all over your oven and burning), then bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until cooked through.
- While the chicken is baking, heat a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add a few tablespoons of olive oil, then the apples. Sauté until softened but not mushy (about 8 minutes), then add the balsamic vinegar and continue to sauté until the vinegar has reduced slightly and is coating the apples. Remove the apples from the pan and set aside.
- Add more oil to the pan, then add the onions and sauté until translucent. Add the garlic and thyme and cook for another 2 minutes, then add the kale and sauté until wilted. Add the chopped squash and apple, the walnut pieces, and sprinkle with salt and (liberal amounts of) freshly cracked black pepper, then toss until combined.
- Serve the chicken overtop of the sautéed vegetables, then finish with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar.
January 14, 2012
There’s something about January, something that makes it feel as though time is slowing down and the days are beginning to blur into each other, like the weeks are stretching out to be longer and longer while the weekends shrink into barely noticeable pauses in a never-ending string of sameness. It’s always this way, in January. The sparkle of the holidays is gone and the novelty of the season has worn off, but Spring is still so far away; there are still so many flat grey mornings and long black evenings to get through.
Last week I met up for coffee with an old friend from university. We don’t see each other much any more – I’m living here, she’s living there, and our lives are on different paths going in different directions – but once a year I find myself sitting across from her in a crowded coffee shop, cappuccinos in our hands, with that inevitable question hanging there in the air between us: “So, what’s new?”
It’s been a year. I should be able to talk for hours, to fill novels with answers to that question. I should hardly know where to begin. And instead I feel like I’ve been treading water: So much effort, so little progress. What’s new? Not much. Of course, there are the little things. There was my trip to Europe in the fall – the highlight of the year, really, the only time I felt truly alive – and there were moments with friends, achievements at work, certainly enough smiles and contentment and good times to convince people that 2011 was a good year. And all things considered, it was a good year, but good in that vague, imprecise sense – It was good mainly because there was an absence of anything truly bad.
It probably sounds like I’m unhappy. Sometimes I even wonder if I feel unhappy, but I think I’m really just restless, impatient, waiting for that next big step, knowing – at least in part, on some level – what that next big step is, and knowing that now, right now, is not the right time to take it. I’m not one to make lists of detailed, specific resolutions for a new year, but I will paint with broad strokes and imprecise goals: This year will be about moving forward, moving towards this still-blurry idea that’s been hanging in front of me for a while now. This year is going to be an interesting one.
