That was one serious hiatus–so long that I almost forgot I had a place to share my thoughts. My recipes. My life. So much has happened since my last post in May of 2020 like, um, a global pandemic that consumed all of us–it was like the person who walks into a crowd and sucks all the air out of the room. It took all my attention, my energy, my willpower away from the things I wanted to do. Instead, I buckled down and worked at my job that I ended up leaving after 3 years (that’s another story for another time). There were three trips back to Toronto/Muskoka in there, and another contract that wrapped up a few months ago. So guess what? Now I have time on my hands! (sort of)

And that means I’ve gone back to cooking and baking and ruminating about all the things I should be doing with my life. Like finding a paying gig.

In the meantime, here I am world! Writing about life with two kids at home and one away at university; life in Northern California; life with a senior dog; life as a perimenopausal woman–apparently the topic is all the rage and we can talk about it openly.

Here’s a small sample of all the things I’ve been up to in the kitchen:

Cookies, cakes, pies and squares fall into my bailiwick when it comes to baking sweets. I cannot say the same for fine pastries, breads or savoury baked goods. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn how to bake those things. I just hadn’t considered it before. “Before what?” you ask.

Before The Great British Bake Off.

Yes, I got hooked a couple of weeks ago. And yes, I’ve been living under a rock for the past five years. I am not normally a fan of reality television involving competitions that induce sweating, heart palpitations and all manner of anxiety riddled activity. But I did like learning about different methods of baking and types of pastry that are commonly found in England and in bakeries, but rarely attempted by the home baker.

Given my propensity to learn and try new things in the kitchen I have devised a plan (well, it’s more like a list at this point in time) to make pastries I have never attempted before. Here’s my list so far:

• Scones
• Croissant
• Puff pastry
• “Rough puff” pastry
• Hot water crust pastry
• Choux pastry
• Sugar work
• Italian meringue
• Mousse
• Sponge cakes
• Meat pies
• Crackers
• Swiss roll
• Donuts
• Madeleines
• Danish
• Pavlova
• Chocolate Work
• Ginger Bread
• Marzipan
• Streudel

I think that’s a pretty decent list to start with, don’t you? My plan is to turn it into my next 365 day project on Instagram, although I know I’m not in the kitchen 365 days a year (although pretty darn close to that).

SO! Wish me luck. I may not begin right away, but I’m going to figure out which pastry to tackle first. Don’t worry: you’ll know when the bakefest begins. EVERYONE will know! The key is to do this and not gain a bajillion pounds doing it. As my friend Shelley once exclaimed after seeing a post of my bakes, “How do you not weigh 400 pounds?!?!?” I figure if Christina Tosi can bake Crack Pie and Birthday cake pops among the many other tooth achey creations she bakes and still look fit as a fiddle, so can I.

I know, I know, I know. I have this fair-weather relationship with my blog. I haven’t been all that involved with it these days months. And I have no excuse other than Life. Yes, Life. So without further ado, I decided to do a quick post with some of my favourite Pins of Halloween decor.

The house is mostly decorated now, but I can’t photograph it very well because contrary to what some might think, I don’t know how to take a good exterior shot of the front of my house. It just ends up looking, well, bad. And definitely not Pin-worthy. Because we all know what makes the cut.

I dig Ghost pumpkins–those are the white pumpkins. And anything a little different from the predictable. Although I love simple, old-school Jack O’ Lanterns too. So I’m leaving you with a few pictures to give you some unattainable inspiration when carving up those ghoulish gourds in the next few days.

I call these Tim Burton style pumpkins

These are beautiful Ghost pumpkins.

And now I’ll just get out my handy, dandy drill!

This is my Pinspiration for now…what are your Halloween Pinspirations?

I miss my dog. My husband and I took him to the vet’s and put him down last night. They put us in a softly lit room with two leather chairs and a black and white fleece blanket on the floor. There was a jar of liver treats on the table so I helped myself to a handful, which I fed to Duke. That was his name, Duke.

Just writing down his name brings tears to my eyes and a tightness to my throat.

If you had asked me six months ago if I would be so overcome with emotion at the demise of my dog, I would quickly have dismissed the idea. He was just a dog. But he was so much more than that.

I remember picking him out from the litter of ten puppies when he was just three weeks old.

The breeder single-handedly picked the puppies up by their backs, flipped them over to determine if they were male or female and then handed them to us to choose one.

I remember Duke nuzzling his black nose into my husband’s arms, a warm ball of fur, so calm. He was the one. He smelled like the fresh wood shavings used as a bed in his kennel. A mix of standard poodle and golden retriever, his breed would come to be known as the “golden doodle.”

With black marker in hand, the breeder “branded” our puppy with the letter ‘G’ on his pink belly. We would return in five weeks to take him home.

I didn’t grow up with dogs or any pets for that matter. My father had a thing about dogs that dated back to his childhood in Soviet-ruled Hungary. Dogs were used to intimidate, or guard. Not for companionship or play. But Duke would make a convert out of my dad.

Several years ago we lived with my parents while our house was being renovated.  When my father came home from work each day Duke was the first one to greet him at the door and my father would make him sit and then he would ask for a kiss, which Duke would obligingly give him with a big wet lick on his cheek.

That was the story for all of us—a friendly greeting at the door after a challenging day and all your troubles would vanish in a moment.

But it wasn’t all wags, licks and fetching.

There was the time Duke injured his Achilles tendon in a futile effort to catch a squirrel, which ended up costing us a pretty penny and a lot of consternation.

Or the time he devoured eight raw lamb chops right off the kitchen counter and we feared he would develop bloat.

Or the time he ran away and hid in the ravine after being scared off by a hot air balloon in the shape of a giant peanut.

I called Duke my perpetual two year-old. Just like a toddler, he demanded our attention; feeding, watering, walking, stooping and scooping, endless throwing of Frisbee or ball. And in return he gave us unconditional loyalty and love.

Early humans must have instinctively known about the fringe benefits of keeping a dog as a pet. In addition to their pack mentality, ability to catch small prey, and fend off intruders, dogs provide a companionship unmatched by any other animal.

Like a true domesticated canine, Duke knew his place in our pack, protecting and playing with us and our children in equal measure.

To non-dog people, the notion of a dog being a member of a family may seem ludicrous, even saccharine. Years ago even I may have been that person.

But I admit Duke had a profound effect on me and my family that I could not have predicted when we first brought him home eight and a half years ago.

Just like humans, dogs grow old or develop illnesses. In Duke’s case he got cancer. We could have exercised lifesaving measures, like chemotherapy, that just a few decades ago were only intended for humans. Instead we chose palliative care and spoiled him with table food, like my boeuf bourguignon and chicken pot pie.

On his last day I fed Duke three hot dogs. It was a sunny Spring afternoon. The kids were home from school and we were sitting in the backyard. Duke still insisted on fetching the ball even though he couldn’t see it only able to find it by smell and hobbled around the grass on three of four legs.

We decided to tell the kids it was time to say good-bye to Duke. Our three-year-old was more interested in digging in the sand, but our six-year-old had plenty of questions and plenty to say.

After much discussion he wrapped up the conversation with the matter-of-fact pronouncement that all life must come to an end.

Only a day after his death and friends are asking if we will get another dog. It’s too premature to say, but I feel with some certainty we will get another dog. I’m just not sure I’m ready to journey through the peaks and valleys of dog ownership again just yet.

In the meantime our son has planned a memorial service for Duke. We are burying his collar and tags under the dogwood tree in our backyard (how à propos) and singing a prayer.

That backyard feels a whole lot emptier without Duke in it, but it is full of great memories that we will carry with us.

In the next 12 hours I will find out whether I have a new niece or nephew who I fondly refer to as Jellybean. My brother and his wife are having their first child tomorrow. We know this because she is scheduled for a C-section, although not by choice. This wee babe has been breech for weeks now and although my dear sister-in-law did everything in her power to coax Jellybean to head south, this baby wouldn’t budge. This to me suggests my sweet niece or nephew will have an unwavering constitution, which I think is a good thing! In honour of Jellybean’s arrival I’ve made a little bundle blanket in, what I think are fairly gender neutral colours. Browns, yellows and blues. I love making these blankets because they aren’t particularly baby-ish and they are perfect for putting down on the carpet and letting the baby wriggle around or practice their tummy time. I’ve made them for many of my nephews and nieces and they make a very special gift. I’d love to make them and sell them, but at my hourly rate, they’d cost a mere $200! (if you put in an order, I won’t refuse!) So, Jellybean, this is my way of saying welcome to the world and welcome to our growing family.

I just celebrated a birthday. A significant one to me. But this post is not about birthday cake. Well, not my birthday cake. I did get one (actually two), but I wasn’t responsible for the baking of either one of them. What I did get for my birthday, among other things, was a cake decorating class from my husband. In other words I signed myself up for a course called “Wedding Cakes and Pastries” offered by the Toronto District School Board. It’s once a week for 9 weeks and it started last night. The bonus is I’m taking it with my good friend, Karen, making it that much more fun. There were about a dozen of us sitting around the staff room table at the local high school. All I brought was myself and my apron (which says “Just Call Me Martha” on it) and we spent the next 2 hours learning about different kinds of cakes, icings and tools required from our lovely instructor, Margaret. She even demonstrated how to make her version of tiramisu–what I call a “no bake cake”–that would impress the pants off of any guest you have over for dinner. Her secret is making it look just like a cake instead of layering it in a dish using sweetened whipped cream like icing, which she made herself. Not unlike Martha Stewart’s recipe for sweetened whipped cream, it only requires three ingredients: whipping cream, icing sugar and vanilla.  She begins by dipping lady fingers into coffee and then dousing them in a liquer of your choice (she uses Kahlua).  Margaret then arranged the lady fingers side by each in a small rectangle. She put the sweetened whipped cream between two layers of cookies and then slathered the whole thing with another layer of the whipped cream. To make it pretty, she made rosettes out of the whipped cream using a piping bag, and then puts a coffee bean on each rosette. The finishing touch is a light dusting cocoa and cinnamon. We each got to sample it and it was light and delicious and not overly sweet. Now I’ve got a laundry list of cake decorating implements to acquire and a doozy of an assignment: my son’s 6th birthday cake in 2 weeks. I’ll keep you posted on how that one is coming along.

Sweetened Whipped Cream

1 cup of whipping cream (35%)

2 tablespoons icing sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions: with a hand mixer or standing mixer, beat the cream and sugar on high until it begins to stiffen. Then add the vanilla extract and keep beating until cream is stiff and forms peaks.

Margaret’s Tip: chill the bowl and beaters before whipping the cream. This will encourage the cream to stiffen.

We’re in Manhattan for a mini vacation, just me and Dave. These opportunities to have what I call a “couples-only” or adult vacation are few and far between–scratch that–they NEVER happen. Or at least they haven’t happened since we decided to go forth and multiply. So here we are, staying with Dave’s aunt and uncle on the Upper East Side. We arrived after a rather turbulent and jolting commute in the air and on ground that left both of us feeling rather green. But after regaining our appetites we grabbed a quick bite to eat and then marched across Central Park to my number one destination: Zabar’s. Yes, I know, I’m in New York City and where do I want to go? A grocery store??? Yes, and I was in absolute heaven when I saw that Orange sign….off to Rectangle’s (Middle Eastern) for dinner. Stay tuned. More to come!