There was a day last week when I did something very unusual.  Because I had spent the day in the cottage, working remotely for my clients, I decided to go to the beach for the evening.  I heated up my dinner of left overs and packed it, my book and a glass of red wine into the basket of my bicycle.  I spent hours that evening, savouring my dinner of Fruite De Mare linquine, sipping my wine and reading my book. 

When I have made an investment of an evening to watch the sun set, it is rare that you can pull me off the beach before it touches the horizon.  But on this particular evening, something else was drawing me home.

When I got to the edge of the beach path, a sensation came over me that suggested to me that my brother was leaving this world.  I continued on my way and then got caught up with other details.  I spoke to Daughter #1 on the phone and while doing so there was a beeping on my line.  I thought that it was my husband as we too have nightly telephone chats when I am alone at the cottage.  I called him next and while I was speaking to him, a neighbour came to the door and told me that I was to contact the city as soon as possible.  When I made the call, the news was devastating.  My brother had just passed away.  The range of emotions that I went through was vast but not one of them was shock as I had already been aware of the news, which had been delivered to me at the end of the beach path.

I realize now that I cannot write about my happy fascination with food when I am unhappy.  Now the good news is that I have not missed posting 2-3 times per week in the last year and a half, and so that is an indication that I am a pretty content person.

But it is now the end of the week of my bother’s memorial, a day that in itself was a gathering of food and laughter and memories.  I have a back log of restaurant reviews, guest blogger post and dinner events to share with you and I am able to write again.  I believe that Tom is in heaven, enjoying a banquet table laden with the imagination’s most delicious food.

Even when the mosquitoes are at bay in the city, we are not so fortunate at the beach house.  Our little cottage was purchased in six hours and was definitely a love investment and not one of rational assessment.  We are in a little birch grove, surrounded by pine and poplar, which we love.  But we are also the lowest lot in the area and this wet spring we had a “waterfront” lot.  Frogs in the front yard were a constant and one day ducks came to check out the pond.  Even when other lots had spring run off dry up, we were in the muck.  As a result, our mosquito seaason lasted longer than most.

But this long weekend has been glorious-no rain and no mosquitoes!  We have taken full advantage: huddled over crosswords, Mastermind, Scrabble and cribbage on the deck, playing a game called red neck golf (?) on the lawn, swinging in a hammock chair newly acquired in the DR and listening to Beatles music around the firepit until late into the evening.

It has also meant al fresco dining.  Almost every meal has been served on the deck which means the screen door gets a workout when the table is being set but perfectly efficient in every other sense.  And if we have not had too many pre-dinner cocktails, we remember to light the citronella candles to keep any scragglers away.

Last night we expanded the table surface with a gorgeous red retro kitchen table.  It will find its ultimate home in our son and daughter-in-law’s tree top apartment.  But for the weekend it means we can sit eight quite comfortably.

The menu last night was Sister #2’s chicken pita’s with black bean and corn salsa and orzo, wild rice & lentil salad.   For dessert she made the ridiculously simple but of so decadent Fruit Cocktail cake with a brown sugar/milk sauce and ice cream.  Let me know if you don’t have this recipe-it is a keeper.

Somehow everything tastes better out in the fresh air!

Kath’s quote:  “The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight…”-M. F. K. Fisher

Sometime even a foodie needs a weekend off.  By this I mean that I have been surrounded by amazing dishes to request the recipes for and photograph, but I have not. (D likes to publicly complain that he hasn’t enjoyed a hot taste of food since I started this blogging thing).

We arrived Friday evening at the beach house to a bulging platter of grilled chicken Thai salad served on the deck.  We did not even unpack the car-just tucked into the meal, wine and an oportunity to get caught up on family news of who was going to be out at our three cottages, who was travelling where this weekend and anecdotes from our youngest family member who had just had a marvellous 2 week vacation.  “Auntie-ask me what grade I going into?” (He’s 2).  “What grade are you going into this fall Colton?”  His answer: “grade Home and Miss Mommy’s gonna be my teacha!”

Daughter #2 and her Frenchman drove Grandma out and got to join us for 24 hours before they headed to his home town for the next eight days.  Sister #2 made them eggs benedict as a send off.  Her poached eggs are perfectly cooked, the English muffins toasted so that they are not too doughy and she tops them off with with an extra generous ladle of bernaise sauce. 

Almost immediately cleaning up from brunch, D got supper going.  He fired up the barbie and I chopped up the veggies to add to the roaster for ribs.  He had marinated them in apple cider.  He covered the roaster and then closed the barbie lid and left them there for the entire after noon.  When we walked back and forth on the road that links our cottages, we caught the aroma and knew that supper would be a treat.  He drained and cooled them and then put them back on the grill to brush with barbeque sauce and more splashes of apple cider.  Soon after supper, he was at the stove again making his Mom’s hot fudge sauce recipe which is a much requested cottage dessert.   

This morning there is the annual pancake breakfast at the sports field as it is homecoming weekend at Lester Beach.  We are opting instead for salami denvers when D gets home from tennis with the guys from Grand Beach and our son and wife arrive from the city.  He has just been to the airport to drop off his sister and pick up his wife.  She has been away on a mission trip to the Domincan Republic.  Sister #3 is vacationing in Bejing.  Sister #2 is grouting a mirror that she has decorated with beach glass for their not yet built cottage that will provide the fourth property of our vacation compound. 

There are beach towels drying on the railing, newspapers and open novels lying around, a big white lab sleeping in thse sun, bouguets of day lilies attracting bees and a cool breeze in the surrounding birch and pine-life is good.  Is very good indeed.

Kath’s quote: “A daydream is a meal at which images are eaten. Some of us are gourmets, some gourmands, and a good many take their images precooked out of a can and swallow them down whole, absent-mindedly and with little relish.”-W. H. Auden

Our recent sojourn “down under” continues at Billabong Bar and Bistro on Osborne.  The third of three entrees that we sampled was the baramundi that was also an ingredient in the spring rolls.  The firm, yet tender white fish that we liken to Manitoba Pickerel was combined with a sticky rice and wrapped in a banana leaf.  I’ve enjoyed meals cooked in this manner on other occasions in Mexico but never in Winnipeg.

The humidity in the leaf ensures that the fish is thoroughly cooked without drying out.  I am guessing that the sticky rice also helped with the moisture as the rice was infused with shitake mushrooms and a lime and coconut broth.  This accomaniment turned out to be our favourite of the three.

We tried to forgo dessert but were unsuccessful.  After another rest, we picked up forks again and shared tastes of their lovely fruit pavlova and Sticky Pumpkin/Date Pudding. 

The cloud of baked meringue was adorned with freshly whipped cream and a trio of fruit.  It was perfectly light and refreshing and would be a perfect complement to an ordinary sized meal.

We had more difficulty leaving the pudding alone.  The moist and dense pumpkin and date combination was savoury enough but with a buttery, rum, cinnamon and brown sugar sauce, we were absolutely smitten by tastes.

Kath’s quote: “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”-Miguel de Cervantes

The eating extravaganza at Billabong Bar and Bistro continues…..

I tasted my first Wedge salad last summer in New York City and I must admit, that I love iceberg lettuce.  For one, iceberg is the lettuce that I was raised on but also because I appreciate the density, refreshing water content and crunch.  When a really robust dressing is generously ladled on (just the way we like it), many lettuce choices don’t have the muscle to support the volume and hearty ingredients.  

I am not typically a blue cheese lover but this oil-based dressing was also chock full of a meaty bacon and I’ll admit it-I could have eaten it with s poon!  The wedge was topped with red and green onion and melon-lovely sweet and salty contrasts.

There was a pleasant (and much-needed) rest before our entrees were served.  I was most anticipating the chicken stuffed with spinach and eggplant but my fork was often drawn to the lamb shank and baramundi wrapped in a banana leaf. 

The lamb had been slow roasted with an Australian port and black cherry reduction.  The density of the glaze had permeated the rich nuggets of meat which easily pulled away from the shank.  The roast was perched  on a platform of creamy but hearty, garlic mashed potatoes.    

The stuffed chicken was covered with panko and parmesan reggiaano and then oven baked.  What was particularily intriquing was the basil and herb French toast with baked boccaccini that it was resting upon.  The plethera of tastes was further enhanced by a fire roasted plum tomato gravy.

I’m getting full, just thinking about that amazing meal and will have to save the remaining entre and dessert until next time.

Kath’s quote: “Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote.”-Benjamin Franklin