Local birthday, local food.

And now on to the good stuff – this past weekend we celebrated Chef C’s birthday.

I won’t out his age here, lest to say that he has (and will continue) to age gracefully, while I linger just a little bit longer by the “wrinkle free creams” and am actually starting to pay attention to just how much “fillers” cost (and I worry about the hormones in my chickens – don’t worry, I hear you laughing). 

Now, I know this blog should focus on politics and food, but I’m going to try and pull a fast one, and talk about the politics of food.  By now you can guess that I try and watch what I put in my mouth, and that I care if things are laden with hormones and over sprayed with pesticides.  And because I care, Chef C cares.  And believe you me – it is never easy taking a Chef out to dinner. Ever.  Because the minute you tell them, they’re on the web researching menus, digging for information and critiquing the food. And I haven’t even ordered yet.  It’s a way to measure how you cook; how you season, techniques on browning, semi vs demi glazes – you get the picture. So choosing a restaurant for his birthday was a bit of an undercover job.  But I did it! I beat the odds and I came up with a winner.

I took my hubby to Chives Canadian Bistro – a wonderful bistro, with a fantastic reputation in Halifax’s gong-show restaurant scene, and a very well respected Chef and Proprietor.  And still, I was nervous.  Because what if he didn’t like it? What if he spent the whole meal wishing a salt-lick was beside our table? Serious things one needs to consider.  So I kept the whole thing a surprise, and didn’t let him know where were going until we parked the car.  Tricky, tricky wifey (Disclaimer: I am not a food critic.  I don’t pretend to be one, and I don’t want to be one. So none of this is meant to be taken seriously.)

To make an already long blog a little bit shorter, let me just say that the food, wine, service and decor made for a crazy good meal.  Seriously. Why had I never been to this place before??  But above all of those things (which to a large degree are aesthetic), I felt like the food that I was eating was cared for.  That each element was important, and that nothing was an afterthought.  To put it shortly - respected ingredients make for respected dishes.  And ultimately here's what I like about places like Chives (and if you know where to look, there are a few of them) is their emphasis on supporting local and sustainable food whenever possible.  Sure, that means a little bit of extra work on behalf of the Chef and his staff, but as a food consumer it makes me feel appreciated and valued to know that someone cares enough about what they're feeding me, and cares enough about our local economy to put in that extra work.

So without completing a PhD thesis on the benefits of eating locally (think economic, environmental and physical folks), it makes a heck of a whole lot of sense to find out where local food is being produced, what retailers are selling local food, and which restaurants are buying local food.

Because there's a lot of crappy stuff in our environment, and every good decision helps.  So I'll take my food free range, and I'll leave the fillers to the anti wrinkle creams.

A bird in the oven, is worth a pan full of gravy.

Well we’ve been going on over a week – for the one of you reading this I apologize for not having posted sooner.  I’m sure you were waiting with baited breath.

I am happy to report that the Roast Chicken Extravaganza of last weekend was a resounding success. OK – perhaps not resounding, but at least no one spat it out when they ate it, and I have no reports of food poisoning.  To date.  So all in all, I didn’t count my chickens too soon, and I conquered my fear of roasting without a net.  And for greater emphasis, and because I was feeling cocky, I made gravy… from scratch.  A little de-glazed, chicken – cidered love.   And roasted veggies; but now I’m just bragging.

I’ve included a quick picture of the little darlings just prior to being conquered, and their final resting place – don’t they look wonderfully happy? 

And I’ll throw in a quick promotional bit for their producer.  These lovely little ones came from Windyview Farms in the lovely Annapolis Valley of Nova Scotia.  And as I harped on in my last blog, they are 100% free range, organic, grain fed, non-hormonal (even the girl chickens), antibiotic free birdies.  I’d like to think their last moments were filled with dreams of golden eggs – but even I know that’s an out-to-lunch idea.  Still, good for them, and good for me.

So thank you, lone reader, for waiting patiently for the conclusion to my epic story.  And as something to look forward to, I’ve volunteered to cook the Turkey at my mum-in-laws Holiday dinner.  By myself. So as we speak, there’s a 17 pound beauty (of Windyview farm fame) sitting patiently in our fridge, waiting his turn for my very popular oven.

Best of luck Birdie.  I’m dreaming of golden eggs too.

365 days, 500ish recipes? I'd need a book too.

So I've just finished watching Julie & Julia.

Now, let us be clear: I do not think that  I will scribe a wildly successful blog (I don't think anyone even reads this dribble), I do not think that said blog will magically mirror the life of an exceptionally talented cook, or that my culinary idols will read my blog and provide my life with revolutionary meaning (Sidebar: Nigella and Mario, if you do read this I really, really love you both and swear that meeting you would make me a better cook; No, a better person. Seriously. Call me).

But, I do have some serious cooking to do today.  A group of my wonderful friends have committed to all of us getting together once a month and each couple bringing a dish to share (fine. A pot-luck if you must call it that.)  So this time around Chef C and I committed to bringing a main course. Yay!, I thought.  My wonderful, professional Chef husband will cook an amazing main course, I'll glow with pride as he presents the dish to everyone and "Mmmmm, yummy" along with everyone else.

Nope. No dice. Chef C is working, which means "Ms. Foodie" (what a stupid, stupid name. I MUST change that) now has to prepare the "amazing" main course, sans professional chef.  So I started stressing out. Big time, hard core stressing. I had him write down every possible direction.  And then I panicked when he left. Me alone with two chickens.  Mind you they are beautiful, amazing, free range, no anti-biotic, all Nova Scotian chickens.  But I was still alone with them.

So I did what any self-assured, woman on her own would do.  I turtled. I retreated to the sofa to plan my strategy, flipped on the TV and saw that Julie & Julia was just about to start. So I watched it. And LOVED it.  I felt empowered in a culinary way.  So empowered to conqueror the chickens, roast some succulent root veggies along side, and make a mouth watering jus to keep the chickens beautifully tender.

(As an aside, don't you love the moments before you tackle something challenging?? You're mind has envisioned nothing but positive scenarios, you have not failed but rather exceeded your own expectations and you've wowed your yet-to-be guests.  That is this moment. The pre-chicken moment).

So I've decided to commemorate this solitary cooking adventure on the blog.  There'll be photos.  Heck, I might even throw in a video or two. And then you can all have a virtual laugh.

At me, and my chickens.

A Very Worthy Re-post...

A very big thanks to Mama T for being among the many to post this.

If this fails to inspire thought, conversation and action, I have no idea what will...

( Lauren Zuniga... mazing spoken word artist by the way...)

Wingin' It

Yes, as we speak Chef C. in in the kitchen whipping up a batch of chicken wings (honey garlic for those of you who think your chosen flavor of chicken wing is the equivalent of a personality quiz); hence the first part of the "Wingin' It" title.

The second part, and I've been marinating on this one for a while, refers to the current Holiday Season, and how human beings park their frontal lobes from December 1 to January 3, and emerge into the Holiday fray "Wingin' It".  

I can hear the groans:

"Another whiny Holiday blog about the maddening throngs of people..."

Or my personal favorite, "She should just stay out of the malls/all public places... she's killing my Holiday buzz".

Well boys and girls, I've tried.  I've tried locking myself away for the last 30 days of the year, but stuff happens.  Bills shockingly don't get paid. The cats verge on becoming feral. My employer gets a little cranky that I don't show up to work. You see how it gets complicated.  To bring complicated to an entirely new level, I work in a mall.  Yup, my office is in a mall office tower.  So the "Holiday Season" starts for me sometime between Halloween and Remembrance Day.  And it's too early.  And it's too much.  Really, really early, and really, really too much.

And I don't celebrate Christmas - to toss in a spice of politics, I'm not a Christian so I don't celebrate it. Here's where this time of year starts to wear on me.  I don't find December 1 to January 3 frustrating because of the emphasis on the Christian holiday.  I find it frustrating because there isn't an emphasis on the Christian holiday. Hmmm... I can hear those groans turn into raised eyebrows.  Sniff, Sniff.  It's fishy when atheists defend Christians.

I have a tremendous amount of respect for people who see this time of year as a well deserved opportunity to surround themselves with friends and family; people who use this time of year to reflect on the mysteries of their faith, and to celebrate the earthly arrival of one of the most important members of their faith.  And while I do take this time of year to spend time with my family and friends, I'm a little envious that I don't have a faith base to fall back on.  A part of me wants this time of year to have a deep spiritual meaning.  Now hold your breath for what's next.  For the first, and probably only time, I find myself nodding along with Margaret Wente in a December 2009 Globe and Mail article when she describes "envy[ing] people of faith".

What I fail to embrace, and to be honest respect, is how these 30 some-odd days have become about buying things for people, for Christmas.  And I can guess what you're thinking.  This is a modern-day incarnation of the Magi bringing the small, helpless Savior gifts to show love, respect, reverence and worship.  Sure - I get it.  But did they bring Jesus a Nintendo Wii? Did they think that Mary, as a new Mum, would appreciate organizing her hectic new schedule on an iPad?  After seeing the North Star did the Magi double-check the location on their new Garmins? And just as a heads up, Canadians spent $7.3 billion dollars on Holiday gift giving in 2007 (Thanks once again Globe and Mail!). Yup, I said billions. And I really, really wonder how much of that $7.3 billion was spent on the newest and greatest "thing"? That "thing" now sitting in a pile of newest and greatest from year previous, all purchased in the fevered pitch of "necessary" Holiday shopping.

I'm not trying to take the fun out of giving a well thought-out gift to someone you love over the Holiday Season.  I just thought it might be worthwhile to think a little bit harder about why we're buying things.  And what it means to buy things this time of year.

To put it bluntly, I think it's really about intent.  Let us use our intent wisely, and be honest about why we wield and flash our debit and credit cards.

Now I intend to follow my nose and find those chicken wings, and festively reach across the table and give one to my favorite person this Holiday Season.

Politics on the Rock(s)

So I'm going to do it.  I'm going to throw my hat into the blogosphere.  I'm going to be one of those people who blogs about the obvious.

Danny Williams has announced he's leaving his job as Premier of Newfoundland and Labrador.

I'll throw out a link to the CBC story about his resignation - in the event you've been living under a rock since this afternoon, or don't check Twitter every 5 seconds.

OK, so obviously he isn't Jesus. He wasn't going to be Premier forever.  He no doubt has aspirations (political and otherwise) far beyond provincial politics.  But holy @#$%.  I didn't think he'd leave now.

And why would I care about the premier of another province deciding to leave? Especially someone with such strong views about the strengths and capabilities of his province (at the potential detriment of other provinces).  Why? Because of the politician he is.

I've always been interested in politics.  For those of you who've suffered through a wine-laden conversation with me about politics you know I like my opinions strong (like making-your-eyes-water-while-cutting-an-onion kind of strong).  But I've never really felt engaged by the political process.  The actual act of running to hold elected office.  I like policy.  It's a little cleaner - the mud slinging takes place on paper; it's nicer.

And then I moved to St. John's to take a Masters in Political Science, with a built-in term working in government.  And I got mud all over me.  I was inspired by a strong politician, from a province where the general consensus, of people who were not from there, was that with the end of cod nothing of value was coming out of good ole' NFLD.  But Danny made it his mission to change that from the inside out.  A highly educated individual who remembered where he was from, was fiercely proud of that, and believed that the reputation of his province was worth more than a failed fishery, transfer payments and suffering outports.

Policy? Stale bread.  Danny's style of politics? The meaty stew you could run that bread through.  And he was an Atlantic Canadian.  He wasn't concerned about the 7 seats his province held federally.  He confronted the PM, yelled ABC in Upper Canada and endeared himself to his people (and I would argue, the region).  He argued for a fair deal when it came to agreements on Hydro with "larger" national  players, and brought NL from have not to have.  Anyone else impressed??

Of course there are people who don't agree with Danny.  And yes, he's a bigger mud target than others.  But I would be a bet a beautiful bottle of Director's Cut Coppola Zinfandel that he's respected for his dedication and the promotion of his province.  

So yeah, I had a wonderful blog prepared about a recent announcement from my own province.  No DD  hasn't gone anywhere, but there was a fairly expensive economic, jobs-related release made this week.  And then I checked Twitter.  And thought I'd raise my glass and cheers to Danny (on the Rocks).

Pulling out the Cork

This feels like my Birthday!!Welcome all (I'm assuming people will like me) to my first blog posting!

I've been debating on posting a blog for quite a while now, and have been looking for an "excuse" to publish - when I had more time, when things got settled after I got married, when I found a new job, when I had babies (and boy oh boy do I have some stuff to blog on that) - and then I realized that there never would be a "good" time.

So I decided to launch myself into it.  I threw a Twitter Account together, whipped this blog together.  Thought about how wonderful it would be to eat food and then blog about it. And here we are.

I love politics.
I love love food.
I love wine.

And I love talking about them.  Really, really love talking about them.  In fact, it's a hobby.  The Husband, Chef C. and I have made that our thing.  I think it was a bottle of Ravenswood Zin that finally brought us together.  And I adore the political scene.  I find it witty.  Hilarious kind of witty.  The crazy kind of witty that the people we throw in those rooms often act like a playground full of three year olds.  And their mothers don't tell them to stop shouting, and that name calling is for weenies.  But I love it.  Often with a wedge of goat cheese and a pinot.  That kind of love.

So thanks for following my blog - I hope this politics-food/wine-and all things MS. Foodie blend will keep you interested. You may even laugh. After a bottle of pinot.