When I saw that this book was featured recently in the book section of the Winnipeg Free Press, I could not  wait to get my hands on it-literally and figuratively.  I was looking forward to reading the story of four women united by their mutual foodie blogs.  But I literally wanted to put my hands on a “real” book; one that I could throw in my beach bag and sink into on the shore as opposed to risk taking my tablet with me.  I now upload books from Kindle, which is how I keep up with my book consuming obsession.

I always find it fascinating to read a work of fiction that closely intercepts my own life.  This is why I love reading fiction that is food and/or travel themed.  This really is where the intrigue of this novel ended for me.  I found the premise had been done before and the almost instant success of the food bloggers unrealistic (unless I just jealous that one blogger had more than ten times my audience).  Blogging and especially food blogging is very hard work but somehow these fictional bloggers were able to whip off blog posts before turning out the light at night. Case, in point: mine typically take me in the two hour range and that is not including recipe testing, photo taking and reformatting.

But, you decide for yourself.  Here’s an excerpt (the novel includes blog posts, recipes, photos and emails):

O Cherries!

I am in bliss.  Purest, deepest cherry bliss.  I am going to become a cherry in my next life, born to open my soft pink petals to the new spring sun.  Honeybees will buzz around my stigma and drink of my juices and bring me the secret nectar to impregnate me.  I’ll close my petals tightly and rest in the cradle of bright mornings and rainy afternoons until I grow big and fat and red, the very red of lips, and luscious, and then I will be plucked with gentle fingers and carried, ever so tenderly, into the hot, waiting mouth of a hungry woman.  I’ll feel her tongue wrapping around my roundness, feel myself explode into her throat and cascade into her body.

Cherries are in season.  You can cook them if you want to, make them into pies, or put them in pancakes or slice them into a salad.  But, really, why?  Just eat them.

If you’ve heard fabulous culinary photography called “food porn”, I think that this except might classify as food porn as well.  Actually I am being unfair to the author because when I read it again (I just finished the book this morning) I can see how this was intended to be foreshadowing.  But, and I guess that this is my key complaint, the narrative kind of strayed from the food blogging business and became more of a story of “coupling” with everyone finding the perfect mate in the end.  I don’t think that I am wrecking the story for you as the conclusion was pretty predictable in my mind.  Novels of this genre often climax (pun intended) with a multitude of persons paired off like a Shakespearean comedy or even a more ancient story-Noah’s Ark.

As I say though, if you are a foodie, food writer or blogger, you might find this a fun summer read.

Kath’s quote: “And I don’t care! How about that! I love French fries!”-one of Barbara O’Neal’s fictional characters.

Love-that is all.

I once worked around the corner from the King’s Head Pub and Eatery and it was our Friday lunch restaurant of choice. We didn’t sit at the wood as Norm did at “Cheers” and the bartender did not know our names but our waiter certainly did.  He also knew our drinks of choice off by heart, as well as our lunch orders.  I recently got to choose a place to meet up with these former co-workers and it seemed only right that we assemble at the King’s Head.

Not a lot has changed over the years except perhaps that it was once a private club and we had to purchase a membership to attend and sign in every visit.  The pints of beer are still served as frosty cold and our favourites were still on the menu.

Two of our standard orders were the Fish and Chips and the Chicken Curry.  The price of the Fish and Chips has not risen as steeply as the cost of haddock has inflated.  In order to compensate for its dear cost, the portion has been scaled back a bit.  This is a good thing because I could never eat a whole portion back then and the new size is just right.  The beer batter is what makes it so irresistible and takes me back to the days of ordering Fish and Chips at Eaton’s Valley Room (now I’m really dating myself).  The fries are still delectable, especially with just a shake of malt vinegar and a glistening of salt.  Ketchup?  How dare you suggest such a thing!

The chicken curry, although not a feast for the eyes, was enthusiastically tucked into.  The taste that was offered to me indicated a confident curry cook in the kitchen. 

The third member of our klatch loves spicy food more than anyone I know but the Chicken Vindaloo proved to be too much for even her to handle.  She had been duly warned by our server but had no idea what she was getting into.  The abundance of on-tap beer varieties help quench the fire. 

 Kath’s quote: “This curry was like a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony that I’d once heard…..especially the last movement, with everything screaming and banging ‘Joy.’ It stunned, it made one fear great art. My father could say nothing after the meal.” – Anthony Burgess

Wearing my birthday gift of a turquoise heart-how did they know?

Love- that is all.

This day was our last full day on Isla.  On this and most last days on the island, we try to fit in all of the events that we haven’t experienced yet.  Most of the circumstances involve food or cocktails.  True to form, J2, her Mom and the Wee One picked us up at 7:30 am for breakfast at Mango.

I love the food at Mango but I adore the décor just as much.

We shared Coconut French Toast

& Eggs Benedict.

Both the Wee One’s Glammas took turns entertaining her while we ate.

Can you see that she has her Poppas enormous blue eyes?

J2, Glamma V and the Wee One headed for Punta Sur as D and I strolled home.

And then just like that…the weather changed and a deluge began.

The weather was so extreme that it felt totally like a new day had dawned.  But you know what they say?  Even a rainy day on Isla is better than most days anywhere else.  We coped the best we could by visiting family members to say our good-byes and having a few cocktails along the way…

Kath’s quote: “When we lose, I eat. When we win, I eat. I also eat when we’re rained out.” –Tommy Lasorda

Love-that is all.

Flexibility and resourcefulness are primary features regarding beach house cooking.  For example, on this morning I had planned on making omelettes but went to the fridge to find that I only had 5 eggs.  I had already texted D who was off playing tennis to ask him to pick up some bakery bread so I did not want to bother him again.  As a result, my omelette plans morphed into frittata.  This is pretty easy to achive at this time of year when fresh produce is more than plentiful.  Freshly picked spinach was the pivot of the egg pie.

When we packed up our family home, precipitated by our Mom’s move to a nursing home, we dispersed many of the kitchen items that she had requested, back to the person who had originally filled the request.  This meant that I received her mandolin (not the musical kind, but the culinary one).  The device is a simple one and I get a special kick out of efficient low-tech items.  Hers makes perfect little matchstick potatoes that work great for this purpose.

The potatoes were cooked first and separately.  Make sure that you patiently wait for them to crisp up before you stir or turn them.  Have a little taste to determine that the starchy surface that potatoes sometimes retain, has been cooked away.

Placing the sautéed spinach on the bottom layer will ensure that the eggs will not stick to the pan.

Oh yum.  Use a fork.

Kath’s quote:  “The two-pronged fork is used in northern Europe.  The English are armed with steel tridents with ivory handles – three pronged forks – but in France, we have the four-pronged fork, the height of civilization.” E. Briffault, ‘Paris a table’ (1846)

Love-that is all.

I once wrote a cook book.  This was pre-computer days and I typed it on a IBM Selectric typewriter and it was difficult to hide my corrections made with white out.  You might say that it was a pretty transparent work.  Next I had a small number of copies covered with a sheet of construction paper and “spined”.  The title and dedication were on the cover.  “I Cook, Therefore I Am”.  I thought that the title was absolutely brilliant! Even in those days with a repertoire of Jean Parre, and Best of Bridge recipes, cooking for my loved ones, defined me. 

Yes, I love to cook but I will admit this:  I especially love to cook for an appreciative audience.  I am blessed that D and our children and their significant others are my biggest fans. But back in those days, and I am speaking of a time thirty years ago, I was friends with a man who I dubbed a “Famous Eater” in this same dedication.  He didn’t just enjoy good food, he loved everything about the act of eating.  His appreciation oozed out of him as you watched him eat.  His Caribbean blue eyes glinted, his musician’s hands gestured and his voice, that famous voice-praised.  Not with phrases like “oh, this is good” but with accolades that indicated the he understood why you had prepared it just so.  He got food.

The gift of this cookbook was at a wedding shower that I was hosting.  This man was marrying one of my best friends.  She was (is) a beautiful, vivacious woman but I had a grave concern.  She could not cook in those days.  But oh how she tried.  She wanted to love her new husband with gifts of food and so I decided to help her along.  And so I compiled this cookbook of easy recipes that I knew would please.  I loved them both so much that I wanted her to be able to successfully love him with the offering of food.

The next line of the dedication was this “A Collection of Recipes given to Trish on the occasion of her marriage to David Mann-A Famous Eater”.  I so clearly remember that in Trish’s surprise and excitement, she unwrapped the cookbook and read the dedication like this: “I cook, therefore I am a collection of recipes”.  I recall that we all giggled at her error and yet, I think that her statement is absolutely true.

I was the only female attendant at their wedding-their “Matron of Honour” (matron not maid, because I was married to D).  Trish told me yesterday, that she loves to look at the picture in their home of us all together.  She told me this yesterday, at the memorial service for her husband David.  He had succumbed to cancer of the esophagus.  The irony of this does not sit lightly with me.  Not only was it his voice that was the reason for our becoming acquainted (he was the morning man at Q 94 and I was the Marketing Director for The Keg ‘n Cleaver Restaurant) but his esophagus delivered the food that he delighted in, to nourish his body.

David loved Keg Steaks, but also 529 (where he and his family celebrated birthdays) and Rae and Jerry’s.  Rae and Jerry’s catered the refreshments at his memorial service yesterday.  In fact, they cater every celebration of life service at the church that we attend.  There was a time when I loved their fancy sandwiches but recently I only ever eat them when I am very sad.

I introduced David and Trish to each other.  My D was living in Toronto finishing his degree in foodservice and hospitality at Ryerson.  Trish traveled a lot with her work with Estee Lauder.  David and I often found ourselves together by default.  He once called me to say he had been loaned a motorcycle and wanted to drive to Lockport for a Skinner’s hotdog but it wouldn’t be the same without someone on the back of the bike and Trish was not available.  I was afraid of motorcycles as I had lost two acquaintances in separate accidents but somehow David talked me into it.  He promised me he would drive slowly. Liar. David loved speed.  He loved the wind in his hair.  At that time his car was a Scirocco, so named for a Mediterranean wind that comes from the Sahara and reaches hurricane speeds in North Africa and Southern Europe.  He was fond of quick acceleration times.  I chuckle when I think of this because Trish was the opposite.  As we raised our young children together, she would run alongside the toboggan as it slipped down the hill, for fear of injury to the kids.

D and I and David and Trish have not been close in recent years.  David was our financial planner and we decided that it would be best if we kept the relationship a professional one.  But it was also this:  I try to live my life without grudges but I allowed one to stand between me and Trish.  I believe that she has forgiven me.  I know that I have forgiven her.  David would have wanted this.  I have promised that I will contact her next week as she tries to get back to some normalcy in her life- a life without the father of her children, without the Famous Eater.

Kaths quote: All things ever after. -David Mann

Love-that is all.