Too much of too much

Well, so much for posting everyday throughout winter. I should have known that was an impossible task considering the presence of Christmas holidays and all the preparation and post holiday discombobulation that accompany it this time of year. Having the chance to finally clear the post-Christmas fog, and reflect on the last several days, this morning I came to the conclusion that the birth of  the idea of the "seven deadly sins" must have taken place at this time of year. At last count, I could account for at least five out of the seven being displayed in plain view within the last several days.

People, usually kind, motivated, restrained and charitable, are now transformed into greedy, slovenly and glutenous creatures, seemingly overnight. ( I use the collective "we" here) The overabundance of food and free time has played to our lowest common denominator and transformed us into the kind of human being the bible has long warned us about. This, of course, is on a level that only hints at the what is possible if left unchecked. I, as well as many others, already feel the nagging longing for life to "get back to normal." We've had enough of staying up till morning, sleeping till the afternoon, eating till we feel we will burst and scouring the flyers  for yet another electronic gadget .

Don't get me wrong. I would never deny any one including myself, the pleasure of a tryptophane fog, the sweet and spicy heaven of a gingerbread cookie or the anticipation of opening that shiny package under our bejeweled tree. It's the quantities I object to. Too much shiny, too much sweet, too much of too much for my liking. Bring on the New Year and the slow but relentless build up to Valentine's day.

Can I pay you to read this?

What greater wish could a parent harbor than to have their children living a life that they find fulfilling and one that brings them closer to their desired goals? I can't think of too many. Even if our personal wishes come to fruition, they can't shine as brightly when the children are struggling, when their path is strewn with quick sand or pot holes.

Today, one of my and my daughter's Christmas wishes came true. As she so aptly put, "Kids, Santa is real!" All she, and in turn I for her, wanted for Christmas was to get a job. Any paying job would have been good, but a "big girl job" is what she really wanted. A full time job, in her field of study, that allowed her to "be paid to read." Since this has been a goal of hers for a long time now, albeit, a goal she considered very unlikely to meet, in the near future anyway,we were all "over the moon" when "the call" came this morning.Yes sirree, 9-5 of reading book manuscripts in final preparation for print. This is a girl who would read if she had to pay to do it. And here, they were offering to pay her. How is that for a Christmas miracle?

That brings me to the question of wishes and the miracle of having them come true. The way I see it, we might as well set our sights high. I mean, wishing to get something totally within reach, never results in a miracle, but going for a goal that seems like a "pie in the sky" is what miracle workers specialize in. Whether your miracle worker's name is God or Santa, or good old fashioned Perseverance and Serendipity, there is nothing like the feeling of putting your faith in something beyond yourself and just "going for it" with every fiber of your being.

This Christmas will be a special one at our house. Both the kids are working hard on their chosen paths and I know that miracles will continue to pop up for them just as surely as the pot holes that are are a part of every road. Look how far they've come already. They are fine examples of all that is good in the world and why it's always a good idea to plan for the miraculous in our lives.

Jamaican Me Crazy

The thing about flavoured coffee is that it smells much better than it tastes. I know. I've tried many a caramel, vanilla, fudge toffee varieties with and without dessert and in my opinion they are just not coffee. They may be a confection similar to coffee, or a hot coffee-like treat, but the act of adding any flavour to the coffee bean immediately negates it's "coffee"designation and enjoyability factor, or so I used to think.

Walks in friend and unassuming coffee saboteur Bonnie, a few years ago at book club, and in one fell swoop changes my previously held views on the above position a full 179 degrees (all other flavoured coffees are still taboo as far as I'm concerned). After spending the last hour or so, gushing over the genius of Abraham Verghese's Cutting for Stone, the book club contingent sat relaxed in the afterglow of good conversation while she innocently slipped an unassuming looking cup of Jamaican Me Crazy to our unsuspecting taste buds.

That has been at least two years ago. I can not count the number of times I have stopped by every Winners and Home Sense in my path just to check out their coffee section to see if this ground gold was sitting on the shelf. It appears a few times a year and then again performs a disappearing act for several months at a time. I have been known to empty their entire supply on occasion and stash it in my freezer for safe keeping.

Here it was two weeks before Christmas and several months had gone by without a sighting of Lansing Michigan's own Paramount Coffee's, Jamaican Me Crazy. Perhaps this is one reason I have found myself rather stressed of late. I asked the elfish shelf-stockers about it on more than one occasion as Christmas drew closer and was met with a smirk and a rolling of the eyes. Apparently a few employees in the know had their antennas set on Jamaica as stock came into the store. A couple of days ago, my coffee addiction received it's early Christmas present. Two pouches of the Jamaican gold sat waiting for me as innocently as sprinkles on a doughnut. I snatched up both and rummaged through the entire shelf just to make sure the elves were not up to their irritating tricks. Two, just two 340 gram packages to do me through the holidays.

My name is Eva and I am an addict. Thanks a lot Bonnie.

Hot Tamales

I made Mexican tamales today. I know, it's the last thing that I'd thought I'd ever be making, especially at this time of year. But the opportunity landed in my lap and considering that I 'd never get the chance again, I welcomed the chance. My little sister, technically a cousin, who's been spending a considerable amount of time in Mexico, arrived home for Christmas with a big idea under her belt. Tamales, a staple of that culture, are apparently available on every other street corner regardless of the village or town. The fact that they are not a part of the menu at most of our local Mexican restaurants or available as a ready to assemble kit on our grocery store shelf, probably has something to do with the fact that they it took us two afternoons as well as several ingredients, that are not usually present in my cupboards, to make approximately 30. I understand that once you know what you're doing, and you have all the necessary things on hand, you can probably churn out dozens per hour. Fortunately for little sister, she is willing to do what many in our fast paced, fast food society are not. We used duck confit, a few different varieties of chillies, tomatillos, several kinds of mushrooms, cilantro, lots of cilantro, a specially treated corn flour and reconstituted corn husks to hold it all together. And here, I'm just naming a few things that passed before my eyes on their way to or from the fry pan or food processor.We were her official taste testers and pass the test she did. The beautifully wrapped parcels of yumm are now resting in my freezer waiting to be brought back to life when the entire family has gathered. The foodies in Toronto are going to be licking their chops when tamale chef extraordinaire unleashes her creativity and tamale making energy on them. Check out the info on this amazing dish and the chef who's going to make it her business.


https://www.facebook.com/#!/tasteyourfreedom

Pass the borscht

Since I'm feeling uninspired at the moment as I have been the entire day, but feel determined to post every single day, I have come up with another recipe for a staple at our Christmas Eve dinner. Easter European barszcz or more commonly known as borscht is enjoyed by Poles, Ukranians, Russians, and Hungarians as well as many North Americans of that ethnic heritage. I must say, since I have never been a soup eater, it has taken me almost 50 years to participate in this Christmas Eve ritual. Last year I distinctly remember having a few spoon fulls as many others oohed and ahhed around the table. Here's a look at a simple way to make this traditional soup. My mother always adds red wine as well as pickled plums and only serves the broth, plums and dumplings (uszka) but I'm sure there are as many ways to make it as there are families who enjoy it.

A place called Christmas

Christmas seems like a place entirely of its own. It is a town we live in from mid November till New Year's day. It's a place we create that has constantly sunny skies, smiling, congenial neighbours, pleasant holiday music, a crisp chill in the air that warrants the use of a colourful scarf, hat and matching mittens. It is a place where everyone gets what they wish for, Christmas is spent with the ones we love and the whole experience is tied up beautifully with a coordinating ribbon. Try as hard as we may, we can not always remain in this place but we do everything we can to get back there with fierce determination. Like a dream that we are strangely aware of dreaming, we fight to succumb to it's delicious abandon even though we know we can not stay asleep for ever.

Reality of life has a way of punching through that dream now and again to remind us that mittens get holes, sunny skies turn to rain, neighbours get cranky and loved ones are not always able to be with us even though the annual Christmas card picture would have been more complete with them by our sides. And yet we feel compelled to decorate our front doors, light the mantle candles, baste the turkey and don our finest and brightest in preparation for the big day.

How do we live our lives in the moment, acknowledging the fact that friends get sick, our parents are graying and forgetful, children are facing issues in their lives we did not have to deal with, while at the same time allowing the sweet smell of fresh cut Christmas trees to take us to that place that only your favourite Christmas carol can?

Finding this balance is not only the answer to how to reconcile Christmas in our very real lives, it is also the answer to how to reconcile the good and the ugly of every single day. The welcoming of new possibilities, of nurturing innocence and promise among cynicism and despair, of allowing hope to take root in our hearts and to celebrate each day for the chance it affords us to make these choices is the prescription given to us by sages and enlightened minds. The trick is, finding a way to do it that has meaning to us.

While I shop for those last minute gifts and bake those last batches of cookies, I will think of those who will not be with us this Christmas while I listen to their favourite carols, I will hope for new beginnings for those starting down new paths and I will keep reminding myself and all those that will listen that Christmas is a state of mind and you can visit there even in mid July.

Home made pierogi

In preparation for making the annual Christmas pierogi, I looked through some recipes to see the different methods and ingredients people use when making this traditional Wigilia staple.  I can't say I make pierogi any other time than Christmas, so every year it takes a bit of organizing to get all the ingredients and implements ready. Usually we make two types of pierogi. Potato and cheese are the most widely known and are also available at most supermarkets these days in the frozen food section. The other type of pierogi that we have made on Christmas Eve for decades are the sauerkraut and mushroom kind. These are a little harder to find if you are looking to purchase them ready made but can usually be found at specially food stores that feature ethnic dishes. Locally they can be found at the European Deli on Walker Rd. at Ottawa St. We, of course, will be making them by hand. My daughter has already asked if we will wait for her to get home before we start the yearly tradition. Here is a look at one way to make Potato and Cheese pierogi. It is very close to the way we make them. This year, however, I will have to scout around for some different recipes for fillings that do not include cheese. The effects of lactose intolerance are not a pleasant thing, especially at a time like this.
My grandmother used to make meat filled ones when I was a child but those won't do on Christmas Eve. She also made all kinds of fruit filled ones in the summer. I still remember the strawberry ones my aunt made a couple of years ago when we visited Poland. These are served with sweetened cream or sour cream insted of the fried onions which usually accompany a dish of pierogi. The warm juice that spurts out of the pierogi and mixes with the cream as the fork pierces the dough is something everyone should taste at least once in their life.Maybe this is the year to add the sweet version of pierogi to our repertoire.This may be an opportunity to come up with yet another non-traditional tradition.