With Saint Patrick’s day coming up, I thought I’d post an Irish recipe. But I’m totally embarrassed to say that this is only one of two Irish recipes that I make. Andddddd I’m not even sure about how Irish this one really is. The filling is stewed in Guinness…. is that what classifies it as Irish? Either way, this pie is a family favourite!
Every peasant cuisine has incredible ingenious tricks for getting a lot of nutrition out of a small amount of ingredients. –Michael Pollan
A simple dish consisting of rice and lentils, khichdi is deeply rooted in the history of the Indian subcontinent. Originally, a peasant food of rural India, it has since been reincarnated into elaborate dishes fit for royalty. Present day, amongst Indians, it holds the title as both the ultimate comfort food and a perfect plant-based source of protein. Throughout India, it is one of the first foods given to babies and long before the word “detox” became a thing here in the West, it has been Ayurveda’s answer to detoxification.
Each region of India has its own version of khichdi. In my birth province of Gujarat, it remains much like the original peasant dish and consists of no more than rice, split mung dal, a pinch of turmeric and a dallop of ghee and is always served with kadhi, a spiced, soup-like yogurt curry.
In the midst of a Canadian winter, the beauty of dead hydrangeas is a reminder of what was and what’s to come.
Past mid-February, here in the Northern hemisphere, we are just one month away from spring equinox. Even though the amount by which sunrise and sunset change each day is now perceivable and though the days are becoming noticeably longer, here in Montréal, our streets are lined with huge banks of snow. Playing outside with my youngest this weekend, I couldn’t help notice that there are still a few dried flower heads on my hydrangea tree lurking above the two feet of snow on our front yard -a reminder that far below the lifeless sheet of snow and ice, comfortably and patiently, life awaits.
Despite being a grossly commercialized day, at the very heart of Valentine’s Day is in fact the celebration of love. And so, in whatever way that suits you (or more importantly, your loved ones), small and simple, or grand and exquisite, it should be celebrated.
Here is some gift wrapping inspiration.
If you have been following me on Facebook or Instagram, you know that I made lemon posset recently for the first time. Posset is a classic British dessert made with no more than cream, sugar and lemons. I used a fantastic recipe that I found here on Tracey O’Brien’s lovely blog. I’ve made it a few times already since then as it has quickly become a family favourite. With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, I decided to give it a little makeover.
The strength of Canada lies in our diversity. Our harmony comes from knowing that there is commonality within this diversity.
Hello my dear ones! I assure you that there is a simple, little recipe down below. But first, a tale of two immigrants (one of which is yours truly).
Our first home in Canada was in the Mile End neighbourhood of Montréal. Back then it was far from being the gentrified hipster hangout that it is now. It had served as the stomping grounds for waves of immigrants, notably English Protestants, Irish Catholics, Jews, Greeks, Italians and Portuguese, long before we arrived. By the time we settled there, in the 70’s, it was already embedded with relics from its rich history.
Every Saturday morning, we took the 55 south to do our weekly shopping on The Main or boulevard Saint-Laurent as it is officially called or Saint Lawrence Boulevard as it was called back then among English-speaking Montrealers. My parents found the shops along this strip far less daunting than the pristine aisle of the large chain stores like Steinberg’s and Simpson’s. These smaller shops were more in line with what they had been accustomed to back home in India. Money was tight and if a little haggling could save a few quarters and pennies, it made all the difference. On Saturday mornings, the place was bustling, streaming with new and old immigrants alike. Everyone spoke with a different accent if not a different language and although everything was new for us, we were strangely comforted by the diversity of it all. Continue reading