Something Old, Something New

Pumpkin, Sweet Potato Squash, Turban Squash

I enjoy food. I like new recipes and prefer to visit restaurants with adventurous menus. But there are plenty of foods in markets and shops that are foreign to me. More than one aisle in the supermarket is devoted to ethnic foods from a number of regions in the world. So I decided to make an effort to learn about and try one new food a week. Here are a few of my recent "explorations".

My first purchase was from a local farm store. I buy pumpkins and butternut squash here but had not tried a turban or sweet potato squash.

Verdict: I cut the sweet potato squash in half, brushed it with olive oil and roasted it until tender. The flesh was sweet and the skin edible. I would buy it again.

The turban squash was the toughest gourd I have ever tried to cut open. I feared losing a finger in the process. Finally I just put the halves in a slow cooker and left it while I was at work. It was not as sweet as the sweet potato squash and due to the dangers in preparation, I will not get another one. They are pretty to look at though for a fall decoration.

We visited a farmers market in Carp, Ontario just outside Ottawa. I bought a fennel bulb and a small basket of patty pan squash. I don't recall seeing these tiny summer squash before.

Verdict: Fennel smells and tastes like licorice and I do not like that flavour. We cut it lengthwise in thin slices, brushed them with oil before roasted in a hot oven. The flavour is interesting in small amounts but I wouldn't buy it again.

We roasted the patty pan squash in a hot oven as well after cutting them in half. I popped one in my mouth when they were done and we ended up eating all of them right away. Delicious! They have sweet summer squash flavour but are not watery at all.

Fennel and Patty Pan Squash

I pass through the Six Nations Reserve when I visit Ruthven Park for bird banding. Gasoline is taxed at a lower rate on the reserve so I always fill up on the way home. I saw a sign for lyed corn and cornbread at the gas bar and decided to buy this traditional native food. I asked the young woman at the counter how she would prepare the cornbread. She told me she was a picky eater and did not eat it but her father cut it in slices and boiled or fried it. 

Lyed corn is similar to Mexican nixtamal and the cornbread tastes like masa which is used to make corn tortillas. The Mohawk cornbread has added kidney beans and the round of dough is boiled in water until it floats to the top of the pot. While it may not win a blue ribbon for looks, it is surprisingly tasty when heated up.

The native American "three sisters" are corn, beans and squash and aboriginal people frequently planted them together. I served the Mohawk cornbread with turban squash and bean stew for a locally traditional meal.

Verdict: I would buy this again but would freeze half the loaf. I am interested in trying lyed corn soup which is much like Mexican posole.

All these foods were locally grown or produced. We have a few fall market days left before the snow comes and I will look for new local foods before trying some imported items.

Do you enjoy any unique or unusual foods?

Historic St. Paul's Anglican Church at Six Nations Reserve

A New Place

The past few weeks have been full of activity and change, good and bad. We visited Ottawa last week and enjoyed breath-taking Canadian autumnal beauty. The entire five hour trip was along “streets of gold” but the view from the Gatineau hills in the province of Quebec across the Ottawa River valley was beyond description. 

We took our dog, Raven, for her first long road trip. She has outgrown her car-sick ways and adapted well to staying in our daughter’s new home. She is only a year and a half old but has grown very accustomed to our house and daily routines. Raven watched us closely day and night the first couple of days in Ottawa, never sure if we were going to pack up and go somewhere else. But she came to trust that we would not abandon her and we were able to leave her and visit The Canadian War Museum one afternoon. 

Today was my last vacation day and I got up early to visit Ruthven Park for fall bird banding. I arrived as the sun rose and was fortunate to see a Saw-whet Owl caught in the first net run of the morning. It was a fine fall day to walk the trails along the river, woods and meadows at the park. There have been record numbers of birds moving through the area over the weekend as shorter distance migrants are making the push south. It must be terrifying for the birds to be caught in nets not knowing they will be handled benevolently and then released.

Like Raven or birds in the mist net, we may find ourselves in a new place where we are not in control. Fear of abandonment and an unknown future bring anxiety and we may not recognize that someone is caring and watching out for us all the time.  

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? 

Yet not one of them will fall to the ground

apart from the will of your Father. 

Matthew 10:29

Cycling

I used to walk 5 km every evening until my knee surgery almost 4 years ago. Pounding pavement after work is not kind to my joints so I tend to meander along natural trails at a slow pace when I go for a walk. My aerobic fitness level took a big dive so this summer my husband and I each got a new bicycle. A co-worker recommended a certain bike shop and for the first time in my life I was fitted for a bike by people who really know and love bicycles. This Giant Suede is a cruiser with a slightly recumbent frame. I started slowly by going around the block a couple of times and then through the neighbourhood park. At the end of the first week, my knees were swollen and painful and I wondered if I had wasted money. But after another couple of weeks of gradual training, the pain was gone and my strength and endurance increased daily. I have worked up to 10 to 12 kilometer rides at this point.

I found the web tool geodistance.com where joggers, walkers and cyclists can plot their routes. I enter my postal code to zoom into my neighbourhood and all the local trails are well marked on the map. The bike allows me to explore linear trails like the one above that are too long to round-trip on foot. 

We are fortunate to have many kilometers of well groomed trails in our region. This one used to be a rail line along the Grand River. The scenery is beautiful and wild life is abundant. I saw many birds today and deer and other mammals are often about.

Northern Flicker

The days are getting shorter and cycling season will soon be over as winter approaches. We have a stationary bike but you cannot coast down a hill and feel the cooling breezes before you pump up the other side. And nothing on a television screen compares to the discoveries made on a trail.

I will have to use the indoor bike through the winter in order to avoid another painful initiation to pedalling in the spring. There are a few more weeks of beautiful fall weather to enjoy and I hope get out frequently before the snow comes. Toronto Island, the Niagara Parkway, the city of Ottawa... My list of places where I want to cycle is getting longer. It isn't hard to keep up something you love to do!

The other bike- A Giant Sedona- (distorted perspective)

On the Seventh Day...God Played Ball

Our society as a whole no longer observes a seventh day or first day of the week pause in commerce to focus on rest and worship. But members of our large Mennonite population who live in rural parts of our region will not sell you one brown egg on Sunday. Handwritten signs at the end of farm lanes advise customers of "No Sunday Sales". After morning chores are done, long lines of horse-drawn buggies drive to simple white meeting houses. By early afternoon long lines of horse-drawn buggies leave for dinner, perhaps at the home of friends or relatives. It is not unusual to see fifteen or more buggies parked at a farm on a Sunday afternoon.

In fine weather the men lounge outdoors in their Sunday clothes as they visit. During the summer you are sure to find several baseball games in progress in farm fields or village parks. Many men travel to the games on bicycle, black pants, white shirts and blue suspenders the uniform worn by both teams.

These young men, clean-shaven, strong and fit, sported fashionable sunglasses as well as the occasional cell phone. The game was was less competitive and more social in nature than organized sports in the city.

Around four o'clock the roads are lined with horse-drawn buggies and people walking or biking home for afternoon chores. Perhaps they will attend an evening hymn sing later or just rest in preparation for another week of hard work.

These pictures were taken yesterday along the Trans-Canada trail near St. Jacobs, Ontario. The trail winds through the heart of Mennonite country along the Conestoga River.

Summer Garden

Autumn Joy Sedum, a perfect poor soil succulent

This summer has been hard on our lawn and garden. We have poor, sandy soil that absorbs topsoil and compost causing it to sink and disappear from the surface. We had cooler, rainy summers for a few years in a row recently but last summer was hot and this summer was scorching for weeks on end. Our trees are stressed, several cedar shrubs are dead, and the perennials bloomed poorly. Hot summers, a big dog, a city watering ban, a scourge of earwigs, and time contraints require analysis of what works and what needs to be changed next year.

Squirrel leftovers

I planted a dozen tomato plants of various varieties. In spite of tender care, they did poorly. The neighbourhood squirrels ravaged whatever fruit was ripening. The patio tomatoes did better but the pesky rodents enjoyed them most of all. That is what I get for feeding critters in the backyard in the winter months.

Cascading Nasturtiums

Most of the patio pots with mixed annuals did well and provided colour that was lacking in the flower beds. The only plants that were eaten to skeletons by earwigs were the marigolds. I have not planted nasturtiums in years but bought six small plants in the spring. I did not know they were a cascading variety and that they thrive in poor conditions. There is only one plant in the pot in the picture above. Strangely though, none of the nasturtiums attracted aphids and none of the abundant flowers developed seed pods. It appears that some selective tampering happened when this variety was "created". This was my most promising food crop of the season even though we haven't added any flowers or leaves to our salads.

Basil

Many herbs grow well in poor soil. Basil, thyme, sage, tarragon, chives and cilantro grew well in sun. The cilantro bolted and flowered too quickly but basil is very forgiving when pinched back on a regular basis. A few basil leaves go a long way in flavouring a salad.

A late summer rain brought these to bloom although the Shasta Daisies failed earlier

Our lawn is the most expensive and time-consuming item we need to deal with. My husband is a perfectionist and works hard outside but there is nothing perfect about the grass after the drought, especially since herbicides and insecticides are prohibited in our area. As I ride around town I see  front yards gravelled or mulched over. It looks like a good idea except that we have a large corner lot to deal with and there is cost for materials. But maybe next year will be cool and wet again and we will forget the struggles of this season. I am happy I do not have to make a living from the land!

End of Summer

The sun set, a bright red ball behind man-made shapes of the city skyline. I stood high on the hill facing west watching as the last daylight of August faded away. Today was hot, humid and dusty and a haze hung in the horizon.

I turned to the east and watched as the full moon rose through the haze, a "blue moon" that was pink and pale. The seasons are changing. Last evening I walked to the top of the same hill an hour earlier to watch the almost full moon rise. A pair of Kestrels hovered and danced together in front of the moon. Large flocks of black birds gathered to roost for the night.

I am not sorry to see this long hot summer draw to a close. Autumn is my favourite season and two Septembers in a row would please me greatly. But we are given one day at a time and that is sufficient. We watched the moon rise higher in the night sky, turning yellow as the haze filtered its light.

Goodbye August...
hello September.

Thoughts While Making Bread

Atkins, South Beach, Wheat Belly, Paleo diet, gluten intolerance. 

Bread has a bad reputation among many people in an overfed first world. Refined flours, preservatives, added sugars and difficult to pronounce ingredients keep grocery store bread soft and fresh for many days. “Day old bread” is a meaningless term today. Over consumption of refined food may cause sensitivities and allergies in time.

One of my patients, an elderly Scotsman, told me about the bakery he ran in his small town many years ago. He started work at 4 AM, baked and then delivered fresh Scottish baps or breakfast rolls to the doorsteps of his customers before they were out of bed. Someone from the house would collect the newspaper and fresh bread each day before breakfast. 

Chapatis, tortillas, pitas, injera, naan, roti, lavash, and a multitude of ethic flatbreads.

People all over the world go through the daily ritual of making bread as a dietary staple. Bread is the utensil, the dish, the substance of their diet. Milled grain, water, salt and optional leavenings make a simple recipe for basic meals. 

Stollen, Challah, Panettone, Rosca de Reyes, Paska bread. 

My sister-in-law makes several loaves of Molasses Raisin Bread or Lassie Raisin Bread every Christmas. She hasn’t lived in Newfoundland since she was a school-aged girl but this “Newfie” tradition identifies her as a native of The Rock. Bread is a symbolic part of holiday celebrations in most cultures. 

I knead the dough on the counter until the whole grains are well combined and smooth. Breaking off a piece, I roll it flat and place it in a hot, ungreased pan. It cooks in a minute and is added to the stack of fresh bread wrapped in a clean towel. 

I think about Jesus’ affirmation that he was the bread of life, a bread essential for health, eaten daily, and shared with others. Our communion bread consists of stale crackers or tasteless cubes of white fluff that dissolve in the roof of my mouth, hardly a good representation of life-giving food.

O taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who trusts in him...Ps 34:8

Is our religious faith so refined, so full of additives and man-made preservatives that it causes sensitivity, intolerance and digestive pain over time? The simplicity of the gospel is lost in the long and complicated ingredient list.

Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you. James 1:27

Simple, wholesome ingredients- 

love, a pure heart and motives, 

mixed with faith and good works-

the bread of life.  

Phantom Phone

Life sometimes produces more questions than answers.

Our phone rang close to midnight, startling me even more when I recognized the number belonged to the hospital where I work. I answered and heard nothing but a crackling rhythm on the line. The calls to our home continued in the evenings two or three times a week and then at 3 AM on Sunday morning a week ago.

I contacted the administrator to ask what could be done to stop the calls. I suspected a fax machine was dialing, but the phone in our treatment room was identified by the communications department as the source of the calls. This room is locked when I go home and no one should enter the area until we return the next day. 

The lady in the communications office suggested that if I call home from the phone during the day, someone could push the redial button and call our number again. I do phone home sometimes, but who would push the redial button in the middle of the night, and why? My manager suggested changing the door lock and staff who work nights became the first suspects.

The next day I was in the room charting at a computer table away from the phone. I heard a dial tone and listened to the speaker as the phone called the last outgoing number by itself. I heard the familiar crackling rhythm and realized that no person was responsible for the mystery calls. I contacted the lady who had been investigating to report what had happened. 

“Impossible!” she said. “There has to be a physical force to activate the redial button.” 

There was no visible physical force and a co-worker confirmed that the phone dialed on its own. That afternoon I called my work voicemail number before leaving and sure enough there was a mysterious message awaiting the next morning. Personally, I was relieved that the calls to our home were not from someone trying to harass us.

The night nurses on the floor say a call bell goes off in an empty room from time to time. They are sure our resident ghost Francine, a nurse who died at the hospital when it was a TB Sanatorium, is active on our unit. 

I believe there is an electronic malfunction in the telephone and a new phone has been ordered. 

But if the calls continue on another phone... 

October 1, 2012- Update

The phone was not replaced but the calls stopped as suddenly as they started a few days after I wrote this post. Very strange indeed!