silly and fun and altogether delicious...

if i were to assess (say, on a scale of one-to-ten) how much of an emotional wreck i have been of late, it would probably average out somewhere near seventeen. life is like that these days. however, there was one wholly-absurd and thoroughly-enjoyable bright spot we got to share. 

a certain animator had a birthday recently, and we used that event as an excuse to indulge in a multi-day festival of foods delivered from some restaurants in the area. we are selflessly doing our part to keep the local economy alive. that's my story, and i'm sticking to it!

some were places that were already known to us, but we discovered a few new gems along the way... like Wienstein & Gavino's (he loved their lasagna), and the indescribable desserts from Bon Et Petit (they are so awesome, they don't need no stinkin' website!). 

then there was that other dish. this one requires a bit of explaining. 

if you have never heard of a thing called poutine, be glad. the dish—and i use that term very loosely—consists of fries topped with gravy and something the locals refer to as cheese curds. oh, and i should probably mention that the curds are supposed to squeak when you chew them, earning them the nickname of squeaky cheese. 

but wait... it gets worse!

the curds lose that disturbing auditory quality when refrigerated, so cheese curds are usually kept at room temperature. the absolute worst part is that they sell them everywhere! no exaggeration, you can find plastic bags of fresh cheese curds on the cashier counter of almost every gas station... right next to the breath mints and the cigarette lighters. that is how much they love their poutine in Quebec, and that is probably the main reason why i have been avoiding the stuff since my very first visit to Montreal (some eighteen-ish years ago, if you need all the details). 

what does any of this have to do with his birthday, you ask? patience. i was just getting to that bit.

birthdays around here are often used to guilt the other person into doing stuff to which they might otherwise object. some call this "love". i had absolutely refused to eat the rabbit he cooked for New Year's (a story for some other day), which meant that i already owed him one.  

so, there we were, with his birthday happening at the end of something called La Poutine Week, where restaurants all over Quebec (and beyond) come up with outrageous combos of poutine toppers to reflect their cuisine. the animator kept reading me the descriptions of some of the local offerings in the misguided hope that he would tempt me to give it a try, so i knew that it was only a matter of time.

him: ooh... there's butter chicken poutine. you love butter chicken.
me: i do. it's one of my favorite foods. i just don't want it on soggy chips with gas station cheese.
him: or, what about this one? lobster poutine! you love lobster.
me: exactly. i love lobster far too much to do it the disservice of ending up atop poutine. 

now, i should point out that he had never even tasted poutine—despite living in Canada his whole life—which made his attempt at a guilt-trip all the more ridiculous. 

me: i am not stopping you from eating poutine. get it. eat whatever you want. 

him: i know, but i want to share this experience with you.
me: why do i have to be tortured so you can satisfy your curiosity?

him: that's how the love works. 

me: good luck with that. 

then he made some comment about me being no fun, which i reminded him was part of my charm. still, it was his special day multi-day celebration, so i gave in. and, after going through the whole list of local offerings, we narrowed it down to the Baby Back Black Velvet Poutine from McCarold, a new-to-us pub a short drive from our place...

or the Philly Cheesesteak Poutine from an old favorite, Notre Boeuf de Grâce.  

[random aside: the restaurant's name is a play on Notre Dame de Grâce (NDG), our neighborhood here in Montreal. i had mixed feeling when they first opened (about a block away from our old place) in the location previously occupied by D.A.D.'s Bagel, a business that was much-loved by the locals. D.A.D.'s was open around the clock, and we would often pop in there during one of our late night walks. i liked going there in wee hours when they were making the mountains of bagels that would be sold at cafes and other such places around town. it was mesmerizing to watch them being moved in and out of the large wood-burning oven. i vowed to hate whatever business took its place... which lasted all of a few months.] 

where was i, again? oh, yes... poutine. 

so, after way more debate than most sane people would find necessary, we settled on the Black Velvet Poutine. it showed up looking just as i expected, like so many servings of poutine i had seen being consumed by other human beings: soggy fries and scattered lumps of gas station cheese. this was not going to end well. 

i took one look, and made the face that he knew from experience meant he would probably be eating it all alone. still, it was his birthday, and i had promised to give it a try, so i stabbed my fork into a chip, and gave it a taste. 

it was a-maz-ing!

i went in for a second bite in silence, stabbing a chunk of the meat this time. this was the point when i started regretting that we had not gotten two orders, because i was definitely not feeling inclined to share. we paused briefly to exchange our mutual (wholly-unexpected) enjoyment of the combination of saucy meat and fries, and we instantly made plans to check out some of the pub's regular offerings in the future. 

but there was still that other thing. 

me: i'm kinda afraid to try the cheese curds.
him: yeh. me too.
me: i'll be freaked out if i bite into something and it squeaks

him: but it would be false advertising if it doesn't squeak. 
me: i know. that's why i'm scared. 

him: me too. let's try it at the same time.

so we did. and it does. and we both laughed because it was silly and fun and altogether delicious. so now we are looking forward to Poutine Week 2022. meanwhile, i have to find something even more absurd delectable for us to try when my birthday rolls around. 

a literal taste of Canada...

i am sat cross-legged on my favorite sofa, enjoying the (unofficial) Canadian national dish of a double-double and a maple-glazed donut from Timmy's. 

i have just had a most-Canadian morning. naturally, it began with lots of snow. 

this is the current view from my favorite sofa, and if i lean out the door, you can see that the balcony is almost entirely filled with snow. that the glass is not completely frosted over and i can get said door open means that it is—thankfully—not overly cold for a change. still, you gotta admit... that is a whole lot of snow! 

let me give you an idea of what life is like in Montreal in Winter. street cleaning rules are suspended, except when it snows... and boy does it snow! they go around one neighborhood at a time, putting up little orange signs that are understood to mean that you do NOT park here... not unless you want to spend the following morning wandering around, trying to find the random spot to which your car had been moved. and, as a bonus, there will be a ticket on your windshield for the charge of the totally unsolicited tow. thank you, Montreal. 

there is actually an app to locate your car, and it is usually moved to an adjacent block that was already plowed. plus, there is one major positive to this wacky system. it tends to leave your car free of snow. if you have ever lived in a place where the temperature can easily drop to minus thirty-something (or lower), you will appreciate being saved a trip outdoors. everyone has had that moment where they looked out the window, shrugged, and decided that it was far easier to pay the ticket than to brave the cold to go dig out from under a mountain of snow... she says from personal experience. 

we usually try to park on the side of the street that gets plowed first, then we run out in the middle of the night and move the car to the freshly-cleared side of the road. that was in the olden days. now, there is a curfew in effect from eight PM to five AM every day on account of... well, you know... and the fine for breaking it can run anywhere from several hundred to a few thousand dollars. 

him: i can run out real quick and move so we don't have to worry about doing it tomorrow. 

me: it's not worth it. plus, the last thing we need is for all the neighbors to be staring out their windows, watching you get ticketed for something so stupid. we'd have to move. 

so, we bundled up this morning, and went out to move a mountain of snow. that is when the Canadian-ness began. 

i was in the car at one point, doing that thing when you go back and forth, trying to get out of bank of snow, when i noticed that he had stopped shoveling. he was leaning on the shovel, engaged in friendly banter with a neighbor from across the street. she disappeared into her house and returned a minute later with a shovel, then she began to help clear a path out of the mountain. then another minute or two later, her husband came walking out of the house with a shovel, and he also proceeded to help clear the snow. 

no exaggeration, at one point another neighbor came walking down the street, and we had to assure him that we did not require even more help. the cynical New Yorker in me was, naturally, disturbed by this display, which i expressed to the animator... once the helpful neighbors were gone, that is. 

me: this is why no one takes your country seriously. you're all too polite to ever be viewed as a threat. 

we switched roles, and i ended up chatting (from a safe distance, as my mask was hanging off my ear at this point) with the neighbor lady while her husband shoveled and the animator dealt with the car. turns out that she is also a New Yorker, so we proceeded to make fun of the frustration of dealing with hyper-polite Canadian drivers. 

neighbor lady: he's not allowed to drive when we're in New York. people would be honking their horn at him all the time.
me: same here. he does all the driving Upstate, and i take over when we get past Westchester. otherwise, he'd probably get us both beaten up or shot because he insists on coming to a stop when the light is still yellow. 

neighbor lady: i tell him he needs to be more of an asshole when he drives, but he doesn't listen. 

me: i say the same thing.

then we both laughed for a bit, content in our smug New York assholery. this is when i got a literal taste of Canada. 

you know that thing that happens when you hit the gas, and the tires just spin, sending a massive spray of dirty ice and snow into the air? well, i happened to be standing in the worst possible spot at that moment. when you get a mouthful, Canada tastes terrible. 

him: was it clean snow?
me: no. it was dirty brown stuff.
him: could be worse. it could have been dirty yellow stuff.  

then he had a good laugh while i stood there spitting repeatedly and wiping my face and tongue on my sleeve. 'twould seem that Karma is a canuck. 

the car was eventually clear, so we thanked the neighbors for their help, and we went for a long meandering drive to recharge the battery that had gone flat from neglect as we seldom go anywhere on account of... well, you know. 

we topped off our mini adventure with a trip through the Tim Hortons drive-thru, where i got the most Canadian flavor combo of all: a double-double and a maple donut. then we headed home. 

it is nice having neighbors who are not assholes. with any luck, Canada will one day be able to say the same. 

Skeletor as a fiber artist...

it is Tuesday afternoon, and it is snowing in Montreal. get used to that last part, because i will be saying the same thing for the next six... or seven... months. 

i ventured out into biting cold conditions yesterday to pick up a very special item from the other side of town. do you see my new toy?

our next door neighbor took one look at it as we were bringing it up the stairs, and got it on the very first guess.

astute neighbor: holy cow! is that a loom?!?

so, yes. i now own my very own loom. it is a four-shaft table loom to be precise, and i got it for the insane price of EIGHTY DOLLARS!!! that is about a thousand bucks less than the cost of a new table loom. this one was used previously-loved, but all it seems to need is a tiny bit of tlc. 

i was afraid that the heddles (all those threadlike metal bits) might be rusty on such an old loom, but they are shiny and ready to go. 

the seller said that it was the loom her sister learned to weave on, but this is definitely not your beginner's level apparatus. i resisted asking why her sister would not want to keep it, as this appears to be a hand-built loom that was well cared for over the years. however, i did not want to pry into potentially awkward/sensitive corners... plus, i did not want her to change her mind at the last minute. i will just assume that her sister has moved on to much more impressive things. 

i have very little past experience using a loom—and that was a much simpler model—so there will definitely be a lot of Googling and You Tube tutorial watching on the subject in my future. 

the loom lives in the studio for now, atop the old-school animation light table, where it is being guarded night and day by the animator's collection of childish things. this is only a glimpse. there are more display cases, plus a whole closet stuffed full of boxes of even more such ridiculous things. 

it helps to share one's life with someone who is also a collector of things. there is a firm understanding in place around here that no questions should be asked when a strange package arrives at the door... or when i start wondering aloud how much room there is in the back of the car. 

he is on a "Masters of the Universe" kick, of which i am partly to be blamed, as i have been watching the old cartoons on-and-off in my ongoing quest for distraction. so, my loom is being guarded by He-Man and Man-At-Arms, while Skeletor schemes on ways to steal its awesome power. i can totally see Skeletor as a fiber artist. 

a dish with an impressive pedigree...

we joke a lot about recipes that require you to have previously cooked a whole different meal in order to obtain one (or more) ingredient for whatever dish you happen to be making at present. something like...

me: the first step of this recipe says to heat duck fat in a skillet over medium heat. 

him: is there a step zero-point-five telling you to cook a duck and save the fat?

me: that would have been helpful.

pretty much.

that being said, it is not uncommon to find us making a meal that includes parts of an earlier meal. not because we like to make life complicated, but because we try our best to avoid waste. beyond that, there is a world of flavor in previously-cooked foods. a bone from a roast or the carcass of a chicken can be the start of a phenomenal pot of soup (like our fridge-cleaning soup from last Winter). if there is flavor to be had, we put it to good use.

then there are times when things get taken a bit too far, as was the case with the delicious salmon i had for lunch.

said dish began earlier in the week, when the animator removed a piece of pork shoulder from the freezer and announced that he would be making char siu. now, i can hear you wondering what pork shoulder has to do with salmon. that is the point. it is a story about how something that should be relatively simple becomes completely absurd. 

char siu pork is one of those magical foods that we would enjoy once in a while, usually when it is prepared by someone who we assumed had to undergo many years of special training to produce the elusive combination of flavor that defines the dish. turns out you can get the same results at home (thank you, Google!), and it is laughable how ridiculously simple it is to make. so now, this once-special dish is part of the effortless lineup we like to refer to as "Wednesday food". 

so, he made char siu pork, and it was amazing (as always). he skipped roasting the meat on the metal rack this time around, and just dumped it (and all the marinade) into the baking pan, turning the meat frequently during the cooking time. the resulting dish had all the flavor of char siu, but a thicker, stickier surface that was closer to classic American bbq, it was sooooooo good. 

this is when the crazy began. 

we were putting away the leftovers, and i was lamenting getting rid of all the super-sticky sauce clinging to the bottom and sides of the pan. so, i added a splash of hot water to deglaze it, let that liquid cool back to room temperature, then dumped it over some (frozen) pieces of chicken and left them in the fridge to defrost/marinate for a day.... or two, as they were still half-frozen the next day. then we proceeded to have an amazing meal that featured char-siu-pork-flavored roasted chicken.

and, as we were cleaning up from that meal, i joked that there was still enough sauce clinging to the roasting pan to use as a marinade for some other thing.

him: it's like a turducken. you can add another animal and make it pork-flavored-chicken-flavored. 

he was too busy laughing to realize that i had removed the two pieces of salmon that were lurking somewhere in the back of the freezer. i did the same thing as before: deglazed, cooled, then poured the marinade over the (frozen) fish.

thus was born char-siu-pork-flavored-roasted-chicken-flavored salmon... a dish that (literally) requires that you first prepare two other meals. talk about a dish with an impressive pedigree! and—absurdity aside—it was incredibly delicious. 

the flavor of salmon can be a bit... well... assertive (a fact which is off-putting to a certain animator). however, this... uhm.... strength of character is what makes it a perfect canvas for such a powerful marinade. [random aside: my maternal grandfather owned a fishing vessel, so everyone on that side of the family was more or less raised on a steady diet of things from the sea. the phrase "it tastes too fishy" is incompatible with my DNA.]

i cooked the salmon at 375°F for about five minutes, then switched the oven to broil for another couple minutes, brushing the last bits of that precious sauce over the top to encourage a lovely, toasty surface. 

naturally, i served it up with some rice that was left over from last night's dinner.

best part is, he hates salmon... which means i have that second piece left over for yet another meal.  

and, yes... i am officially declaring the thrice-previously-used marinade (finally) done! 

a little place called "What If"...

i am sat up in bed, with an animator snoring away next to me and a cat curled up between us under the blanket, also sleeping peacefully. it is a slice of something resembling domestic bliss, and i am cherishing the moment. 

every now and then i peer out though a tunnel of leafy limbs to a tree about half a city block away from here. it has gone a deep shade of fluorescent-pink that puts me in mind of Cyndi Lauper's hair back in the day. trust me, the photo does not do it justice, as my camera seems reluctant to believe that anything that color really does exist. 

there is also a little squirrel taking a nap just a few feet away from the window, with his tail wrapped around his body like a cozy blanket. even the local wildlife seems to be feeling the effect of the advancing cold. 

we have arrived (yet again) at the time of year when my so-not-Canadian-ness is on full display. like when i climbed out of bed Sunday morning to discover that my bedroom had been transformed into a walk-in freezer...

me: it's so cold. 

him: (pausing briefly to "test" the air) i guess it's a bit fresh.

me: you Canadians with your "fresh". it is freezing! i'm cold, so i'm turning on the heat.

him: really???

that last bit was said like i had just announced my plan to jump out an airplane using a bra-cup for a parachute. his Canadian-ness may be keeping him insulated against the rapidly-advancing frost, but it is the blood of the tropics that flows through my veins. it may (only) be the first week of October, but the heat is on! i have zero regrets. 

the highlight of this past weekend was the removal of the bug screens from the windows (and the balcony door) so that we can spend the Winter months enjoying unobstructed views of... well... snow. yes, life really is terribly exciting around here. 

the balcony garden project has similarly been put to rest for the season. there are two large heads of celery waiting to be harvested, but all the other containers have been covered up for the year. it is always surreal to look out at the space that just a few weeks ago was a near-impregnable mini-jungle, and all that remains now is a lifeless row of double-stacked containers waiting to be covered in... well... snow. 

on the more serious side of life, the city of Montreal has (once again) tightened restrictions in light of the ongoing emergency, so we are fully prepared for a long Winter of little-to-no contact with the outside world.... more of the same really. the social isolation is not proving to be a problem for either of us, as we tend to be loners (together). however, i have to admit that i have had quite a few sleepless nights of late, and i spend many a waking hour struggling to keep my mind from wandering down the path to a little place called "What If". 

the one glimmer of joy that has emerged from the constant search for distractions is that i have returned (tentatively) to my crafting of things. i am still not ready to pull the cover off the sewing machine, but i have purchased a few new patterns in the recent weeks and i plan hope to put them to use in the near future. in the meantime, i have been knitting. 

that gold yarn i was so in love with last time around is well on its way to becoming a new sweater for self. i cast this on literally right after i hit "publish" on the previous post, and i really wanted to have it done before the end of September, but... distractions. it will be finished one of these days.

the pair of socks that i had spent all Spring/Summer mostly ignoring were finally finished and passed along to the animator. this is the Bavarian Cable Socks from the Socks From the Toe Up book by Wendy D. Johnson. i knit this pair in some yarn i dyed in a colorway i am calling "koi pond"...because it is!

the design features all-over traveling cables that have the effect of leaving the socks all scrunched up right off the needles.

so i gave them a soak, and left them to dry on sock-blockers, which i purchased expressly for this ridiculous pair of socks. they looked fantastic the next day.

i cannot begin to explain how much i (still) despise knitting socks, especially when there are cables involved. naturally, he loves the bloody things. they were on his feet seconds after i handed them over. good grief! [random aside: he is blaming my camera for the paleness of his legs in this photo. i am not sure how to break the unfortunate news to him.] 

i vowed never to knit another pair of socks, then i sat down to watch a podcast on the You Tubes in which the host mentioned that she was participating in something called "socktober" (which is exactly what it sounds like). problem is, she happened to mention this just as he was walking by. you could hear him screech to a cartoon-like halt at the mention of that word. 

him: did she just say "socktober"?

me: i think you're hearing things.

him: nope. i heard it. it's a thing. you are making me socks for socktober.

all of the protest that followed was for naught, as he was already busy selecting his next pair of hand-knit socks. he settled on a pattern called Sea Oats, and i was given the immense responsibility of selecting the yarn from my stash. 

i had dyed a couple skeins of sock yarn in one of my desperate attempts at distraction, so i narrowed it down to those two. one colorway is "Grand Bay" and the other is "Zombie Apocalypse". ten points if you can guess which is which.

having made my final choice, i divided the yarn into two even (by weight) balls. now i just need to muster something resembling enthusiasm to get started on his next pair of custom-made socks... any day now.