slow cooked leek, bacon, and split pea soup

It’s Sunday and the early morning sunshine is streaming in lighting up trails across the floor as dust motes swirl in the sunbeams. The coffee pot is on. Ella Fitzgerald is singing her heart out in my living room. I am assembling recipes and ingredients all over the kitchen – preparing for a cooking marathon. I text my daughter who lives only a couple of blocks away. “Do you have any bay leaves?”  I ask her.  (more…)

Kingston WritersFest and gasp – chocolate orgasm cakes


Last week was Kingston WritersFest – an epic literary affair for readers and writers held annually in late September. The event has become one of the premier writers festivals in Canada and one that changes the cultural landscape of the small town of Kingston.

Since 2009 when Kingston WritersFest began in earnest – it has attracted a huge variety of writers and readers from all over the world. The headline acts have included Margaret Atwood, Naomi Wolf (The Beauty Myth), Michael Ondaatje (The English Patient), Nobel Laureate J.M. Coetzee, Paul Auster, Joyce Carol Oates, and this year, Wally Lamb. Equally importantly, hundreds of other authors writing on every conceivable subject have graced the platforms of WritersFest – reading, teaching writing classes, and engaging in thousands of important literary conversations, both on and off stage. (more…)

a $450 kitchen makeover and some lemon rosemary hummus

007I’ve just moved for the second time in six months. I’m really hoping it will be the last move for a while. At least for a year or two. But I know enough to never say never. I actually like moving. I like shedding possessions. I like the challenge of a new space. I love getting organized – making a place my own. I find houses interesting. I love the chance to reinvent myself. (more…)

quick Korean beef

Korean Beef

It seems a little fraudulent posting this recipe. First of all – it’s scarcely a recipe. Secondly – it’s all over the Internet in various remarkably similar renditions. Nonetheless, having recently gone wheat-free to see if I can eliminate migraines, I’m trying all kinds of new dishes – this was one of them. It took me by surprise because it is so good.  (more…)

memories of love: toad in the hole


I’ve written about my paternal grandfather before and I’m sure I’ll write about him again. He was a big, strapping, handsome Yorkshireman with beautiful blue eyes that crinkled and smiled when he smiled – which was often. He had a fabulous Yorkshire accent. He called everyone Love. “Eeeee Luv,” he would say to waitresses and shopkeepers and neighbours and really, anyone and everyone who crossed his path.

When I was very young, my grandfather lived in the Yorkshire Dales – in an old stone house with a terraced garden down to the river where he grew roses and peas and lettuce. I’m sure he grew other things too but what I remember especially were the roses and peas. The roses were fragrant and beautiful – so many varieties and he was tender with all of them. We always had a vase of roses in the house – pink were my favourite. The peas – we picked straight from the vine and ate. Sometimes he would send me into the garden with a small pudding basin to collect peas for dinner and the pair of us would sit together later, shelling them, just before he cooked them. When they appeared on my plate for dinner they were perfection – sweet, lightly buttered, often served with a bit of fresh mint. Whenever I eat peas now, I think of my grandfather. And when I think of my grandfather – I think of love. (more…)

paleo balls



What’s that you say? Not Paleo?

Neither am I.

I am interested in food though – all food – and especially healthy, tasty food. (more…)

spicy mussels in white wine and garlic

mussels at Toby's Tavern

Writing about food is challenging. How, for example, would you describe a peach to someone who’d never seen or tasted one?

It’s so hard to find the language to explain the sumptuousness of a peach – a fuzzy-coated, sweetly fragrant, summer fruit whose ripe, soft flesh yields to the mouth, whose sweet juices run down your hands and face as you bite in. A peach smells of sunshine and honey and the summer wind.  In size it is like a cross between an apple and an orange – sporting a warm soft, pale orange sweater-coat, kissed with shades of pink. In texture – more akin to a plum. Peaches tastes like nectar, like honey, like flowers, like summer itself. But no matter what words you find – no matter how florid the description – a peach is a peach. Nothing but eating one actually does it justice.



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