The last few days

On Thurs­day we went to the Corb Lund con­cert at the West­man, and it was fan­tas­tic. The open­ing acts were quirky and alt-coun­try, so they meshed well with Lund and his band. The head­lin­ers played a lot of my favourites, which made me hap­py. All in all, there was near enough not to mat­ter to three hours of live music. We sat 7th-row, stage right, which were fine seats.

Fri­day we got invit­ed out to a “black tie” mar­ti­ni par­ty at Lady of the Lake. I got gussied up in a suit, K put on her new Lit­tle Black Dress, and we ven­tured forth with X and X (no, I’m not kid­ding, I know two peo­ple whose ini­tials are X, and they were both in the back seat of my car on Fri­day night). Live music by Poor Boy Roger, a local blues/swing band, danc­ing, mar­ti­nis of all descrip­tions (includ­ing one with a choco­late-cov­ered espres­so bean at the bot­tom like a prize), and deli­cious appe­tiz­ers. It was a hoot.

Sat­ur­day we ran into The City so I could take part in the U of M’s week­end judo class. An hour of warmup left me sweat­ing pro­fuse­ly — I thought I was going to die dur­ing the hand­ball game — and then I was shown the first two sets of ju-no-kata, along with some help find­ing the kata’s nar­ra­tive, which helps. I also had one of the sen­seis drop a pearl of wis­dom in my ear that I’ve been turn­ing over in my mind ever since: “All throws in judo come from sumi-oto­shi or uki-otoshi.”

Sun­day: off to MacG for fam­i­ly fun times with T, A, and their new boy B. Hav­ing a cold, I felt it was unwise to hold the baby, so K end­ed up with my turn. Not that she com­plained one whit.

Tonight: Watched a cow-ork­er’s copy of The Fall, which was a fan­tas­tic movie, in all sens­es of the word. It was visu­al­ly stun­ning, well-shot, it cap­ti­vat­ed my atten­tion, and it pro­vid­ed an inter­est­ing look at the process of cre­at­ing a sto­ry. It was also a mov­ing dra­ma, and brim­ful of fine actors in fine roles.

And then, tonight as well, I sub­mit­ted two more sto­ries to mag­a­zines: “After the Mis­sile Rain”, a <1k “flash” piece, to Flash Fic­tion Online, and “Nei­ther Bang nor Whim­per”, 2700 words that I wrote in under 24 hours for a con­test, to Fan­ta­sy Mag­a­zine. Wish me luck!

And with that: good night.

Lazy Sunday

Today I sent away a sto­ry, pre­vi­ous­ly pub­lished, to a pod­cast­ing site in the hopes they’ll want to make it an audio sto­ry. Not sure if they’ll bite — I real­ly don’t know if it’ll trans­late well to the audio for­mat — but noth­ing ven­tured, noth­ing gained.

Then we went over to our friends’ place and made sup­per there. We had planned to make it at home, but they were going to be putting up their Christ­mas tree, so we brought over the ingre­di­ents and used their kitchen instead. Mmmm, home­made chick­en pot pie.

The Recipe:

(from Chate­laine, Feb. 2006)

3 skin­less, bone­less chick­en breasts
1 car­rot, thin­ly sliced
1 red or green pep­per, chopped
1 cel­ery stalk, thin­ly sliced
1/2 onion, chopped
2cups (500 mL) small broc­coli florets
1/2cup (125 mL) frozen peas
veg­etable oil
3tbsp (45 mL) butter
1/4cup (50 mL) all-pur­pose flour
1 1/2cups (375 mL) milk
1tbsp (15 mL) dried thyme leaves or rose­mary or 3 tbsp (45 mL) fine­ly chopped fresh thyme or rosemary
1tsp (5 mL) salt
1/2 397‑g pkg frozen puff pas­try, thawed
1 egg, beaten

1. Pre­heat oven to 400F (200C). Cut chick­en into 1‑inch (2.5‑cm) pieces. Pre­pare veg­eta­bles and mea­sure out peas. Light­ly coat a large fry­ing pan with oil and set over medi­um-high heat. Add chick­en. Stir often until light­ly gold­en, 3 to 4 min­utes. Add car­rot, pep­per, cel­ery and onion. Stir often until onion begins to soft­en, 2 to 3 min­utes. Remove chick­en and veg­eta­bles to a bowl.

2. Return pan to burn­er and reduce heat to medi­um. Add but­ter. When melt­ed, grad­u­al­ly whisk in flour until even­ly mixed and bub­bly, 1 minute. Slow­ly whisk in milk. Whisk until thick­ened, 2 to 3 min­utes. Remove from heat. Add broc­coli, peas, 1 tsp (5 mL) dried or 1 tbsp (15 mL) fresh thyme and salt. Return chick­en and onion mix­ture to pan. Stir to even­ly coat. Mix­ture will be very thick. Turn into an 8‑inch (2‑L) square bak­ing dish or dish that will hold 8 cups (2 L) and place on a rimmed bak­ing sheet.

3. Cut pas­try in half to form two small pieces. To cov­er 8‑inch square dish, on a light­ly floured sur­face roll each piece into a 10-inch (25-cm) square. It’s OK if edges are uneven. Brush one square with egg, then sprin­kle remain­ing 2 tsp (10 mL) dried or 2 tbsp (30 mL) fresh thyme over­top. Cov­er with remain­ing square. Press together.

4. Care­ful­ly pick up pas­try and lay over fill­ing. Tuck in any over­hang­ing edges. Press edges of pas­try onto rim of dish. With a knife tip, pierce mid­dle of pas­try in 3 or 4 places to allow steam to escape. Light­ly brush top with egg. Bake in cen­tre of pre­heat­ed oven until gold­en and fill­ing is bub­bly, 30 to 35 min­utes. Let stand 10 min­utes before serv­ing. Sauce will thick­en as it sits. 

It’s real­ly for­giv­ing — we used almost twice the veg­gies, made a bit more sauce, and put it in a rec­tan­gu­lar casse­role dish, and it was f‑i-n‑e.

Then, after sup­per and tree, we watched the tail end of Home Alone on YTV, and then we came home.

Weird and sad

A girl from my home town who was about, what, four or maybe five years younger than me has died. She had a heart attack, apparently.

Wow.

And I found out by the mag­ic of Face­book groups. I don’t even know what that says about the world. Are we more con­nect­ed? Less?

Rest in peace.

Almost Geothermal

Right now, as I type this, there are two men mak­ing mechan­i­cal nois­es in my base­ment. Tomor­row, first thing in the morn­ing*, I should have heat again; some­time after the long week­end** I should be pulling that heat direct­ly from the ground.

Woohoo, and it’s about time too.

____

* Assum­ing the elec­tri­cian shows up at 8 AM so I can let him in before I go to work.
** Some­times it’s awe­some being a Cana­di­an. Like when I look for­ward to hav­ing Mon­day off work, because it’s Thanks­giv­ing around here. Of course the flip side of that is that Thanks­giv­ing is the gate­way to winter.

Today

Today my alarm did­n’t ring, then at lunch I made a $20,000 phone call. Then tonight I helped a friend load a mov­ing truck from 6:30PM till 11:00 PM. Now I’m going to have a show­er and dis­ap­pear into my bed.

How was your day?

Winter Wonders

Hoarfrost

Sure, it looks pretty.

Frosted tree

You’ll get no argu­ment from me.

Winter Wonderland

But the night before, dri­ving down the Trans-Cana­da High­way in fog dense enough that I could­n’t see the lights of Bran­don from one kilo­me­ter away, I was­n’t think­ing of the beau­ty of hoar­frost. I was think­ing, pray­ing real­ly, “Just let us get home.”


Jewish Pastry

Also: The rugelach (or Jew­ish Pas­try) turned out just fine.

Christmas baking

Every year at Christ­mas, one of the fam­i­ly treats is a sweet li’l treat that we’ve always known sim­ply as “Jew­ish pas­try”. This year I decid­ed I’d like to take a crack at mak­ing it, and faced my first obsta­cle: How do you google a treat that you know by such a gener­ic (and cer­tain­ly incor­rect) name?

So I punched “jew­ish pas­try” into Google’s help­ful lit­tle box, and got how­ev­er many thou­sands of returns. Can­ny crit­ter that I am, I had a look at the image search results. Turns out the prop­er name for “Jew­ish pas­try” is rugelach.

Armed with that knowl­edge, I tried hunt­ing for rugelach in Google. And dis­cov­ered that there are as many recipes for rugelach as there are Jew­ish grand­moth­ers. Hmmm.

So I emailed my mom, and got our iter­a­tion of the recipe from her. It came from my great-aunt Olga, who is on the Ukrain­ian side of the family.

Right now the dough’s chill­ing in the fridge. Soon I’ll be dab­bing straw­ber­ry jam onto tri­an­gles of dough and rolling them up and bak­ing them. Hope­ful­ly it turns out.

Wish me luck!