don't ask questions...

every life has a nemesis, and this is (one of) mine.

i can hear you wondering what kind of lunatic has a plant as a foe. me... that's who!

this is a leaf of the American Linden tree [Tilia americana... if you need the too-much-information version of the thing]. it is commonly used as a street/park tree in the Eastern half of Canada and the States... which is were my problem begins.

Lindens grow to be lovely, large trees that provide much-needed shade in urban areas. they bloom early in the Summer, sending out waves of jasmine-scented joy. who could be mad about that, right? me... that's who!

the pollen from this tree is near the top of the (ever-expanding) list of things that Nature seems to produce just to drive me nuts, and they were in full bloom this past week. my allergic reaction to all that pollen is so bad, i avoid entire areas of the city in early Summer.

we were walking in one of the lovely parks along the riverside one day last Summer, when i stopped suddenly and took a slow, panning, three-sixty look at my surroundings.

me: every single one of these trees here is a Linden.

so now i steer clear of that whole side of town when the Lindens are in bloom. not that doing so would make any real difference, because... naturally... there is a gigantic Linden directly across the street from our building, and a few more down the block. they are on every single block in our neighborhood, and there is also a park full of them just a street away. i would probably have to move to the West Coast to get away from the cursed things, but there is probably some other form of Nature waiting there for me. good times. 

you can easily identify a Linden in the wild... or—in this case—in the middle of my living room. [full disclosure: i took these photos last Summer, following a stormy night that left tree bits scattered all over the street. the Lindens had already bloomed, and they were starting to fruit at that point.]

they have asymmetrical, heart-shaped leaves.

they also have elongated, leaf-like bracts located about halfway between the true leaves and the clusters of tiny white flowers that later become small, spherical, seed-bearing fruit.

the clusters of the flowers/fruit usually dangle from the tree like this, and the leaves and fruit/seeds are supposedly edible... that is, according to borderline-lunatic survivalist types on the interwebs.

now, it should be noted that i only really hate this plant for a specific period of time out of the year. they are an otherwise welcomed bit of texture in a landscape that is mostly dominated by maple trees. plus, they are also a major source of nectar for bees, so all of my suffering will be rewarded later with delicious local honey.

speaking of which...

i had a thoroughly depressing experience recently that began with a bumblebee and ended with accepting that some things in life are best left unknown.

if you were here last Summer, you might recall my fascination with a fat little bumble bee. there was only ever one bee at a time hanging around, so i assumed it was the same one who kept coming back to my little garden. and, no... i did not attempt to hug him or pet him or squeeze him, but i did i name him George. so, i was extra-excited to see a fat bumble bee buzzing around the balcony one particularly grim afternoon [this was a couple-few days before we planted this year's garden.]

me: it has to be George. look how he's buzzing around the containers.
him: but they're covered.
me: i know, but it's like he knows they should be filled with plants. it's like he's been here before.
him: maybe it is George.
me: hmm... now i'm not sure. just how long does a bumble bee live?

that is where everything went sideways.

i tried to ignore that nagging question—especially, as i have a tendency to go from 'mildly curious' to 'way too much information' with very little provocation. still, curiosity was getting the best of me, so i made the horrible decision to ask the Internets.

i will give you the shortest version i can manage.

so...

in Spring, a Queen bumble bee emerges from her Winter hidey-hole, and goes searching for a place to make a hive. she lays some eggs, which develop into female worker bees, and they all work together to build a nest and forage for pollen and nectar to stock it with food.

sounds simple so far.

the Queen's efforts now turn to laying eggs that will become male bees and fertile future-Queens. these... uhm... libidinous young ones fly off to meet-and-mate... and that is where the story ends... sorta.

Summer is usually ending by this point, so each of these... uhm... enceinte future-Queens digs herself into a hole and goes into hibernation for the Winter...

and everybody else DIES!

me: so, that is definitely not my George. so. much. sadness.

then i just sulked for a while.

him: why are you so upset about a bee?
me: it was a metaphor for life. and now it's gone.
him: so now you have a new bumble bee.
me: it's not the same.

then i sulked some more.

i am assuming that the new fat bee bumbling around the balcony garden project this early in the season is probably a female... maybe even a foraging Queen.

and, yes... i will still call her George.

and the proverb of this pointless tale is a simple one: don't ask questions!

fridge-cleaning soup...

[full disclosure: i have the flu, so it has taken the better part of a week to put this post together. it is about a pot of soup i made last Sunday, which seems to have been a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, as i started getting sick the very next day. so, while i spent the past week mostly mouth-breathing (because i have the use of about half of one nostril at a time), i was able to enjoy many bowls of truly delicious soup.]

every now and then, we put an empty pot on the stove, and proceed to make what is affectionately referred to as 'fridge-cleaning soup'. it is a dish that consists (almost) entirely of bits and pieces leftover from other meals we had recently.

this batch began with some fatty bits and the bone from a prime rib steak.

next came a ham bone. bit of advice: do not buy a ham—even a small one—in a household of just two people, or you will be trying to get rid of the stuff for the next two weeks... or more.

this is a bowl of assorted veggies that i chopped the night before. it was magical to be able to see the bottom of the veggie bins again. the bowl contains vidalia onion, celery, carrots, garlic, ginger, culantro, mushroom (two types), and some sort of pumpkin-like squash

in it all goes.

while the veggies were sauteing, i went searching through the fridge for anything we may have missed... like the cherry tomatoes from when we cut up more than was needed to make a salad.

there was also the bowl of chopped cabbage from a recent stir-fry when i decided at the last minute to skip the cabbage (because there was already too much stuff in the wok).

and the last of the string beans sauteed with sweet pepper and vidalia onion.

i added a handful of lentils and about two handfuls of barley, both for bulk and because the starch adds some much-needed body to the the soup.

next came some herbs. a few bay leaves and some thyme.

i added some salt and pepper, and a healthy dash of Vegeta—which is just possibly Croatia's greatest contribution to humanity. i poured in enough water to cover everything. this is when i remembered that there was a bit of rosemary left over from some other meal. it was beginning to dry out a bit, but it was still usable. in you go too, rosemary.

there was still quite a bit of the ham, so i chopped some of that meat and added it to the pot.

then i stood in front of the opened fridge, contemplating if there was anything else i could toss into the pot. this is when i remembered the chunk of Parmesan rind in the cheese bin.

there will be no rind left behind on my watch!

that chunk of Parmesan is an absolute game-changer for this soup. the whole thing was brought up to a slow boil, then left covered at a slow simmer for the next couple hours (or so). this is where the parma magic happened.

every so often, i would uncover the pot and give the whole thing a a good stir. the block of Parmesan slowly melted and became incorporated into the background of the soup. the combination of that cheesy goodness and the starch from the grains worked together to create a soup that is rich and creamy. so good!

now, i could have stopped at this point, but i had two last additions which had been set aside to be added during the last fifteen minutes (or so) of cooking time. first there was the sweet potato that was meant to be cooked with some other meal two... or maybe three... weeks ago.

this was peeled....

and cut into roughly bite-size pieces to be added to the soup.

i took this opportunity to fish out all the inedible bits from the pot. bye bye, thyme stems...

and bay leaves...

and flavor-filled ham bone.

i removed the chunk of meat from the beef rib before also saying goodbye to the bone.

now came the absolute last ingredient, a bit of bok choy.

a few quick chops, and in it goes.

ten-to-fifteen minutes later, and we have a really fantastic pot of soup.

i should point out that this is not your typical few noodles floating in a bowl of watery stock type of soup. this is a deeply-satisfying meal in a bowl.

there is only one thing that could possibly make this any better. a crunchy, freshly-baked baguette. Canada may be ridiculously cold, but it is nice having a French bakery just a few doors away.

i could not wait to take the first dip.

i could hear my antihistamines calling to me, but i could not resist.

so insanely good!

me: this is the best fridge-cleaning soup yet.
him: you say that every time.
me: i know... but this one really is the best.

we may have followed up said meal with some pastry, also from the French bakery.

these tarts consist of a sheet of croissant dough with fruity toppings. the lamination in that dough alone would definitely warrant a Paul Hollywood handshake.

so, while i have had a mostly miserable week, i am happy to say that it started out in the most amazing way possible.

new tradition...

despite all of the technology at my disposal, i still prefer to check the current weather conditions by staring out of the nearest window. if i can see the hospital a block and a half away, then i know that the sky is mostly-to-completely clear. if, however, like today i can only see the chimney of the building next to ours, then i know that something is going down. in this case, lots of snow.

this seemed like a good time to make pancakes. [they are made from oat flour (totally wheat-free), so i did not have to follow up this meal with a handful of antihistamines.]

i can say with zero exaggeration that i have been dreaming about eating pancakes for the past week or so. those dreams were mostly the fevered kind that tend to accompany mid-Winter ailments... which brings me to the point of this thing.

there seems to be a disturbing trend developing around here where our ringing in of the New Year is concerned. as i have probably noted in the past, i really could not care less about Christmas. but New Year's...? that is our most-anticipated mid-Winter celebration.

for as long as we have known each other—even during the years when we were separated by an international border—we always made a point of spending every New Year's Eve together. and we made it our tradition to share a special meal as midnight approached. whether we decided to splurge and go out, or to stay at home and make something wholly ridiculous, the point was that we were always together.

that part has not changed, but what has is the new tradition that has ruined our second New Year's Eve in a row. you guessed it... the common cold/flu. this time around was nothing compared to the utter nightmare of the previous year's flu season, which left most of the people we know absolutely drained until Winter was finally done. however, it still sucks to have your plans cancelled on account of saboteur germs.

worst part was that i did not technically get sick until after New Year. what i did manage to do before that point was to pull a muscle in my back, which left me in excruciating pain for a few days, while he—who was already sick—had to tend to us both.

it was equal parts hilarious and sad.

the best bit was probably when we decided on the day before New Year's Eve to drive to the big Asian grocery store on the other side of town... in the middle of a snowstorm and what the weather person on the radio was describing as brutal, hazardous conditions... to pick up any last minute fixings we may need for our special meal.

luckily, Canadians tend to be good at driving in terrible Winter conditions—plus there were very few other idiots who were stupid enough to venture out unnecessarily—so we managed to get back in one piece. i have a vague recollection of us putting away the 'refrigeration necessary' items, and the rest of it remained on the floor in the grocery bags for the next several days.

my back was starting to feel less-painful around this point... which is when the germs decided to kick in. we made a beeline for the blankets, and i have little-to-no recollection of anything that happened over the next few days. i am fairly certain that he tapped me on the shoulder at some point to wish me a happy New Year... then we both fell right back into the feverish embrace of cold-and-flu germs. our tradition was once again foiled!

we had planned to cook a duck, which—interestingly enough— was the same thing we planned to cook last time around. that first duck ended up sitting in the back of the freezer until mid-February, when we stopped hacking and coughing long enough to be able to enjoy the thing.

we had a completely different treatment planned for this year's duck, but it too will have to wait until the germs have fully run their course. he is mostly better, and judging by my having enough appetite and energy to manage pancakes, i seem to be on the mend. we should be able to celebrate New Year's Eve... any day now.

me: maybe this could be our new tradition. every year we can buy a duck... then we get sick and stick it in the freezer.
him: i thought traditions were supposed to be fun.
me: not around here. 

happy New Year, folks!

ready for a viral apocalypse...

judging by the amount of coughing and throat clearing happening of late, i think it is fair to say that the first viral outbreak of the season has reached our humble little home.

we are taking every known precaution to minimize the impact, lest it develops into anything even remotely resembling last Winter's near-death flu. i just made my favorite animator a cup of the most locally-sourced tea imaginable. the dried mint was from the balcony garden project, and the honey was from a new-to-us source, which is the subject of this post.

i was wondering aloud recently as to whether we had stockpiled enough honey to survive another potential outbreak of the viral apocalypse, when he said the magic words that would change my whole universe.

him: Francois [fellow animator] is a beekeeper. i think he has honey from them.
me: whoa! we know a beekeeper? why am i just hearing about this?
him: oh, i thought i mentioned this before.

then i gave him that look that i reserve for moments when he has been keeping important stuff from me.

him: want to try some of his honey?
me: uhm... is that even a question?

fast-forward a couple days later when he messages me to say that he was bringing some of the honey home. i fully expected a small glass jar that would last a couple-few weeks of herbal tea drinking. what i got instead was a small plastic pail with two kilograms (roughly four-and-a-half pounds) of the stuff.

i am fairly certain that my eyes went saucer-wide when he lifted the container out of the bag. then i clapped and squeed a few times. i may be an unapologetic curmudgeon, but i still get excited about the important things in life.

naturally, i could not wait to break the seal and remove the cover. i cannot begin to do justice to the wave of fragrance that came rushing out from under that lid. a good honey should tell you where it came from as the nectar retains the floral notes of the parent plants, and this honey smelled like laying in a field of clovers on a warm Summer's day.

me: did he specify what kind of honey it was?
him: yeh, he said it was mostly clover.

i can hear what you are thinking, and i tend to agree. it really is frighteningly disturbing when i actually know things.

not gonna lie... i wanted to dip my whole hand into the center of that bucket of happiness, then stand there licking honey off my fingers like an overexcited child. however, self-control prevailed, and i settled instead for a metal chopstick.

should anyone have looked in my window just as i was done taking this picture, they would have been deeply puzzled as to why i was standing there with my eyes closed and a big smile on my face as i repeatedly licked a metal chopstick. can you even...?

i had just gotten through my honey-tasting when a sudden shift in the light outdoors caught my attention. we have been having some intensely dramatic sunsets around here of late. trust me... that photo does not do justice to the bright orange and bubble-gum pink tones. it was sheer madness!

me: maybe there is a wildfire burning somewhere west of here.
him: or maybe it's the Apocalypse. 

so now i have to add "prepare for the Apocalypse" to my to-do list. i still need to find a local crafter of wooden stakes, in case it turns out to be a vampire outbreak, and i probably should start working on my hand-to-hand combat skills for when society devolves into a Thunderdome-esque fight for survival.

however, with my stockpile of honey, i can safely say that i am ready for a viral apocalypse. bring it on, Winter.

the year finally began...

[full disclosure: i am going to attempt a week of daily posts in order to distract myself from... well... myself. wish me luck.]


there is a studio somewhere in Montreal, filled with assorted animation-type-individuals who i am holding collectively responsible for the three... yes, THREE... bouts of cold/flu that have swept through our place in the past two months. trust me. that lot is entirely to be blamed.

no exaggeration... at any point during the last three or so months, someone either had a cold/flu...

studio crew (to Sick Person #1): that's a nasty cough. why didn't you work from home today?

or someone was in the process of coming down with a cold/flu...

studio crew (to Sick Person #2): that's a nasty cough. you should probably work from home tomorrow?

you may have noticed that they said the very same thing to Sick Person #1 the day before, and look how that ended.

then there is Person #3. (s)he is not sick, but their significant other is at home coughing up half a lung on account of the cold/flu.

Person #3 (to studio crew): i'm gonna work from home tomorrow in case i'm needed there.

then you just have to wait a few days before Person #3 becomes Sick Person #1 or Sick Person #2.

so, uhm, yeh. i hold that lot completely responsible for all the misery i have been through of late. they are serving as some sort of experimental incubation station, and the innocent bystanders... like me... are left to question why we seem to be coming down with the same cold/flu over and over again.

no exaggeration, we had our New Year's Eve meal during the last week of January. it looks pretty tasty, no?
 

why did we wait so long, you ask? because of the cold/flu. it hit us both right before the New Year, then it took its time leaving. it is more than six weeks later and we both start coughing like crazy if we laugh a bit too hard. sheer madness. so, our usual New Year's Eve special meal was delay for a whole month.

and what did we have for this much-anticipated meal, you ask? something very similar to our New Year's Eve meal from the previous year, i reply.

we had declared twenty-eighteen the "year of eating Asian". or, to be more precise, the "year of cooking Asian". the objective was not to simply spend money on takeout or restaurants, but to learn to make some of our favorite dishes in our own home. and we kicked last year off with an attempt at char siu.

it was A-MAZ-ING!!!

there were many more adventures outside of our usual cooking comfort zone. the objective was to practice making some of our favorite foods that were not already part of our culinary repertoire, and we were surprised at how easy it was to make a lot of the foods we usually get from our favorite Asian restaurants. so, when twenty-nineteen was approaching, we decided to do more of the same.

i should pause here and state—for the record—that i had no delusions of producing anything as ambitious as an authentic Peking duck in my apartment in Montreal. i just wanted a really tasty slices of roasted duck that would be perfect to serve atop a steaming bowl of veggies and noodle soup. so we got a duck....

... then we got the flu.

i had already marinated the duck, but when it became abundantly apparent that neither one of us would be able to stand up for more than a couple minutes at a time (much less, to cook a duck for a New Year's Eve meal), we shoved it into the freezer for some other day... which finally arrived almost a whole month later.

i forgot to take a picture of the first step, but the duck was marinated using a paste made with ginger, garlic, honey, hoisin sauce, and assorted dry spices, which were rubbed all over the duck. it was meant to stay in the fridge overnight covered in said paste, but it ended up wrapped up tight, in the freezer, for a few weeks... still covered in said paste.

some weeks later... it was placed back in the fridge to defrost for a day, then i poured hot water carefully over all of the skin (which washed the paste away and tightened up the skin). it was pat dry and returned to the fridge to sit uncovered for a whole day. and that is when i remembered to grab my camera.

it was removed from the fridge about twenty-four hours later, at which point the skin was dry to the touch. this is a crucial step in trying to achieve that perfect roasted skin.

i shoved a few slices of ginger and a scallion into the cavity of the duck, then closed it up using a bamboo skewer.

next, we made a thick glaze of honey, salt, pepper, and a dash of smoked paprika. we put smoked paprika in everything around here, it is that good.

this mixture was heated very briefly in the microwave, just enough to warm up the honey so it could be spread easily in a very thin layer.

that mixture was brushed all over the skin of the duck...

note that it was placed on a rack over a baking tray (so the hot air could circulate around the whole thing).

finally... into the oven it went until it looked like this.

we prepped lots of veggies to make a quick noodle soup while the duck rested...

then it was time to start slicing.

i do not possess the greatest carving skills, but i managed to make it work.

so, we topped our noodles and veggies with slices of freshly-roasted duck.

and that was when the year finally began in our home.