"My grandmother really did believe this rye loaf was better than cake…" Jeff Hertzberg

This artisan bread thing is starting to make me impressed with myself. 

Nothing is better than fresh bread. Nothing.

"The whole world's wrong and that's what's the matter." Thorton Wilder

So much for an Indian Summer. A girl I work with (I got a job!) is from Australia and she arrived in April. She was commenting earlier this week about how bummed she's been about the weather "lately". I almost didn't have the heart to crush her dreams of a crisp but sunny Canadian fall. But then I did. And THEN I compared vegemite to marmite. Big mistake. (Also: I have been introduced to the Australian 'Milo' and no other chocolatey, malty drink will ever do again. Thank you Tania.)

My job is a'ight. I work at a bakery that many of you in Alberta and BC probably go into frequently and buy great bread. It's a good place though the dorky uniform is a bit of a blow to my pride. All good! My pride needs a knock now and then, especially when I start thinking I'm too good for a baseball cap. I think I may graduate soon to a baking position which would be awesome. Then you get to wear the baker's cap which looks like you draped a hot water bottle on your head. But no one (not even God remember?!) is awake to see you. The bakery has just started carrying pumpkin scones as part of the fall promotion and we were absconded by people that felt the emergence of pumpkin harkened the oncoming of fall. Which it does. 

Today was an excessive form of precipitation. Saturday the North Shore was supposed to get 50 mm in a night! That is seri-yus. It is already at the point where people would be typically complaining about the fact that it's dark when they go to work and it's dark when they come home from work. Except they don't because you don't see the sun during those hours anyway. 

I think now working at a bakery, I'm going to buy a gym membership. Yep. And I've given myself a "fifteen pound window" where I will simply eat and not ask questions. Beyond that, my body and I will have to talk but until then, Operation Eat Food is a go. Capital go. Yesterday I took a Food Safe course which was, aside from painfully boring, totally gross. Especially because it is eight hours of discussing how to prevent food borne illnesses that cause food poisoning. Like Norwalk Virus which is transmitted when someone doesn't wash their hands after going to the bathroom. Or Staphyllococus when people don't ways their hands after invading their nose. Capital yuck. 

**These are the things that will begin to creep into my blog at more regular intervals. My apologies in advance.

The one thing that I am MEGA excited for today is the Vancouver International Writer's Festival. Last year I only made it to one reading at which I totally crushed out on John Gould and bought his book and had him sign it while I blushed furiously. And this year John Vaillant and Chuck Palahniuk are going to be there! And Anthony Bourdain! Those will likely be sold out sooner than I can get my act together but those are the ones I'm most excited about. Peter Behrens and Miriam Toews are coming too but I could likely just hang around outside Creative WRiting stuff at the Yoob and see them by chance. Not that they are relegated to 'less exciting' status. But Chuck Palahniuk! If I see Anthony Bourdain, he will be my John Gould. Blushing for serious. 

Anyway, I'm feeling depressed because of the rain and that is why my thoughts are more disorganized than usual. 

L'Chaim.

"Listen to the mustn'ts then listen close to me. Anything can happen, child, anything can be." Shel Silverstein

I have to start telling myself that I can't drink coffee after dinner. Ever. Because when I do, I turn into Rosie O'Donnell. I'm loud, digressive. Oy. And I usually end up talking to people I am really rather fond of and then kicking myself later as I try to gag myself with a sock. Rereading that, I make it sound like I'm drunk. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me: DRINK WATER.

It is fall. I think it's official and I only think it's official because it was foggy yesterday and has been raining all day. My weather compass is only so forgiving and the "spring" we had turned my weather-heart to stone. Or at least a semi-precious rock. But I got to wear my Fall clothes which made me happy. Layering is tough on the West Coast. Everything has to fit under a rain jacket which really doesn't breathe very well, so usually by midday you come back smelling like the inside of a rain boot.

Started some training at a bread bakery today because I obviously eat through jobs like goldfish crackers. Management turnover at the cafe I was at before and not only me but everyone else is also out of a job. Luckily, I had a kick ass opportunity right around the corner (aka the next day). This job will mean some EARLY mornings, basically before God is up but it's all good. He'll have some fresh bread, baked by me, ready for him when he gets up. Today was the first time that I felt a pang of nostalgia for school. But I thought through it and what I thought I was missing out on. And I realized, though I wish I was taking my Conversational Russian class (that's the only class I missing!), the only thing I was missing was the physical movement of routine. I miss waking up, picking out my clothes, waking up on the bus ride to school, grabbing a coffee before class, having the anonymity time of the academy. Besides that, I realized I don't miss UBC at all.

I'm feeling it's a Simple Daybook kind of day because my days are all over the place lately.
FOR TODAY
Outside my window… Rain. Blech. It's fall. But I bought in and had pumpkin spice latte yesterday. I'm a sucker.
I'm thinking...
I'm thankful…
From the Learning Rooms…I am trying to relearn all of the Russian I forgot over the summer. All I remember how to say is "I eat pizza with my hands". Not good.
In the kitchen…Newly baked caraway rye artisan bread. Win!
I am wearing…new skinnies and a tank with wooden beads. It's a mix of weather appropriate wear.
I am creating…Smitten Kitchen posted a recipe for peach butter (as opposed to apple butter) and I'm pretty stoked to give it a shot. The lemon-grapefruit is gone (Thank God! I was putting it on everything!) so I have an empty jam jar that needs fillin'!
I am going…the Alibi Room tomorrow. It's a sweet pub/restaurant in Gastown and our friend Todd is having his birthday there tomorrow night.
I am wondering…how I'm going to handle 'bakers hours'. 4 o'clock starts. Whoa.
I am reading…Flannery O'Connor. Moozh bought me one of her anthologies for Christmouse and I haven't even cracked it yet. I love her interpretation of gothic.
I am hoping…to spend tomorrow afternoon buried in some writing.
I am looking forward to…dinner with friends from the Reeg on Saturday! Some old, some new. I have a majestic cake planned and Moozh will pull one of his epic meal times out of a hat. It's gonna be a gooder.
I am hearing…Yukon Blonde. I have to give Florence and the Machine a break. Yukon Blonde is kind of a cross between Sloan and Fleet Foxes.
Around the house…a half finished baby blanket. Moozh's beer training book. The carnage left over from making bread.
One of my favourite things…Fall! The leaves are turning and that has to be one of my favourite things in the whole world. One of my Seven Favourite Things? Hmmmm…..
A few plans for the rest of the week…Seeing good friends. Praying over what this fall looks like and this year. Counting down the days until The Adventures of Tin Tin: Secret of the Unicorn comes out. Ya know, big stuff.

‎"Life's real, it's made up of little things -minutes, hours, naps, errands, routine. And it has to be enough." Barney's Version

Deep breath.

So recently I mentioned working through some hefty considerations and those considerations have given birth to some serious changes. Remember when I was a neurotic stress case about getting into my program at the Yoob? And then I did I said, "Victory"? I have spent the past four months feeling lost in the middle of it and feeling like I didn't bring my ball of string with me. Moozh went through serious self-reflection and making a really hard decisions, all the while I spent that time convincing myself that I wanted to be in my program. I don't think I've ever really given it the depth here that I feel for it but writing for me is such an emotional conviction. It has been my rescue for as long as I can remember. When I was stressed out as a kid, as young as first grade, it was how I dealt with stress. I could either develop multiple personalities or I could write. *I've always chosen the latter, just in case you're wondering.* So I faced into so many emotional road blocks when it came to actually thinking through my program, which Moozh totally had to do too. I felt somehow that saying I didn't want to do my program meant I wasn't a writer and I didn't believe that, I did't have the strength to swallow that.

But as I prayed about it, and as Moozh and I worked through it, I realized that I never wanted to leave writing behind and
Realizing that, while it seriously pains me to admit this, I"m not Virginia Woolf and I can't write ten hours a day, seven days a week. (Something makes me think Virginia Woolf couldn't either. Walking into a river with rocks in your pocket doesn't seem optimal.) I know that there are people out there that can write ad infinitum and I really admire them. But it's okay for me to not be that way, even though I say that through gritted teeth. I was in the program of my dreams and wondering why I couldn't get away from the feeling that it wasn't what I wanted. Made me feel guilty about all the people that supported me and prayed for me through the portfolio process and all of the incredible writers I know who didn't get in.

So this past Wednesday, when everyone else was catching a bus or grabbing a coffee, crunching through the leaves walking to class, I was sitting at home in my pyjamas, printing off resumes. I got from texts from awesome friends who remembered that I was supposed to be in their classes and I think all of my texts started off with "Oh yeah sooooooo…"  

But none of this was made in a void. As we worked through what I wasn't going to do, we waded through what I WAS going to do. We thought about what made me excited to do as a JOB. I could get my degree in Creative Writing and wait tables once I'm done to facilitate me writing. OR I could get my education in something I like that facilitates my writing. When I live in my head too long, I get internal. I become morbidly introspective, self-critical, aloof. I know for myself that I need B-A-L-A-N-C-E. I need something that pulls me out of my imaginary world where I talk to people that aren't real into a world where I am reminded of my husband, my life, my friends, my responsibilities, my other passions. I don't' want to be the kind of mom that is so aloof that her kids know she's not a place they can bring anything important. That sucks. This process has been an exercise in courage. I tend to hedge my bets. "If this doesn't work, it's not going to be hard or embarrassing or shocking because I have all of THESE things in place." Life is not meant to be lived like that and we were never called to live a life seeking security.
So we thought about the things that I do when I get home: look at food blogs, read cookbooks like novels, bake bread, make jam. I thought about when I have to get a summer job or a job that I can do during school, I never look for a job at  magazine or a newspaper. Because it freakin' stresses me out! I got to bakeries and cafes. I want to make things that make people feel good. I volunteer on farms.
So y'all, I'm going to bakery school. In January. Same place as Moozh. We gon' be Ma and Pa. I get to learn how to make wedding cakes! And chocolate! And profiteroles! And a whole bunch of stuff I can't even pronounce. I'm going to learn how to make the best bread you've ever had in your life. And I will find a way to share it with you over the 'inter web'. (I'll stuff it through my screen and it will pop out your USB drive.)

This all makes me want to wade into the ocean and watch the sun rise, ealize the autonomy of the world, how choices that I think are going to make me unhappy don't change the world, don't change the ticking and chugging of my life. It's like that Donald Miller quote, the beauty of the story means I matter. I can create, I can step out in courage, I can question, as the world was created for me to be in it.
My Moozh has been my exhale in a serious way. This process is one of those examples I will use when someone asks me what is so amazing about marriage. It's someone who loves you, someone you love, someone to talk you off a ledge, someone to call you to better living. But more than that, it's someone that when you feel small in the face of eternity and in the face of the the world, you have someone who as my bestie would say "holds you in the warmth of the night and thanks God for you". Someone who looks at the same future you do, a future like a three-legged race, and says in the middle of the craziness and uncertainty, "Let's do this".  And that moment, when you've totally fallen on your ass, they are there to help carry you through it (or drag your across the finish line and give you road rash on your back -the metaphor doesn't really work here but you get the gist). I had parents that showed me it is never too late to make a course correction and it has been a blessing to me. I want to be a model of the same. Course correction is hard and totally scary because it amalgamates emotions and ambitions and uncertainties and ties them into a huge monster you have to have the courage to cut down to size.

So if you see me walking around in the New Year in a white suit with my name on it, no I'm not doing probation. I'm in baking school! And if you don't see me at the Yoob, don't be mad that I don't have to stand in line for a upass every month. I have to buy a real pass :(

In so many words, next time you come to my house, you should bring a trophy with you or something because we're gonna kick the ass off of any hospitality you've ever had in your life. That's not really a joke.

Totally going to start a baking blog. Probs going to name it "You Can't Trust a Skinny Baker". Trust.

As of right now, I'm working at a little gluten-free, vegan bakery which is super cute and really chill. I'm not sure to what degree my program will deal with baking for those kind of alternative diets. Let me tell you, I am SHOCKED how much corn starch is in gluten-free baking. I want to see if I can find something at a bread bakery, where I can learn from different perspectives how people make bread. I'm gonna get so fat. Security in marriage, I'm tellin' ya.

Psalm 37:4
"Abide in me and I will give you the desires of your heart." Beaut.

P.S ~ I have to figure out how to learn Russian from here on out ON MY OWN. Guess who is always going to sound foreign?
P.P.S ~ Watched the movie "Morning Glory" which I didn't actually want to see initially because it didn't look interesting but Moozh has a crush on Rachel McAdams. She's super cute in the movie and actually redeemed it a little bit for me. But most of all the movie had a great soundtrack. Newton Faulkner, Corrine Bailey Rae and The Weepies. I freakin' LOVE THE WEEPIES. And this song kind of makes me 'weepy' (no seriously awesome right?!) but it's super relevant to my mind right now.

"Well I ask, doesn't anything stay the same.
No, No, No
Just same changes."

"I worshipped at the altar of romantic completion." Donald Miller

The magical clafaoutis fairy struck again the other night. We missed some friend's birthdays during the course of the summer so going to their house for dinner last night, I whipped up an impromptu birthday cake-clafoutis. No cherries this time but I had some beautifully firm nectarines that were begging to be thinly sliced and arranged in a way that was impressive in a baking dish. I added some rum to the batter as the JoC suggested as well as WAY too much vanilla extract. No bigs though because it was delicious. The clafoutis puffs up in the oven and the angular nectarines looked like mountains, with purply-red freckled peels poking up from the bronzed custard. It was a win. If you ever think to yourself, "I want to make an impressive dessert but I only know how to make a smoothie," clafoutis is for you. As for crepe batter, whizzing the batter in a blender produces a frothy, aerated batter that is beautiful and fluffy.

Went for a kick ass bike ride around the Sea Wall with mah fave Beej. "September is the New July" is a common sentiment in Bankybear right now because July was seriously bummed out and I've gotten a tan to rival the tan I received in the tropics. An "Indian Summer" we called it in the Beef Province. Warm long days that slither to a perfect evening, lounging in fuchsia and yellow along the horizon line. Thus, the beaches are BUMPIN' and all the kids that are back in school are feeling gipped. All of these things considered, the bike ride today was that which you write home about, which is what I'm trying to do here I guess. My legs kicked ass over every bridge and hefty hill that came my way and there was this majestic breeze that was just present enough to cool my sweaty bod while still maintaining the glory of a hot summer day. My bicey, who is presently unnamed, gave it a really good go but bummed out right after we trouped over the bridge headed home. It did so, about six blocks away from home so not bad and I had my pocket bike genius (Beej) with me so all was well. The Sea Wall is mega fun though. It's breathtakingly scenic and if you make time to do 'victory pictures' where you lift your bike over your head as Beej and I did, it definitely makes the 'Awesome Category'. Don't worry, I wore a helmet and I was really only going as fast as one of those Fisher Price motorized cars. I used all the road signals I learned in Girl Guides and, in lieu of no bike bell, I screamed "on your left!" at regular intervals.

Life is fun right now, if life is only relaxed and in a fair routine. Moozh and I saw a sign that said, "Wine is proof that God wants us to be very happy" attributed to Benjamin Franklin. Apparently, this is erroneous but I don't care because it kicks ass. I also like the one from Virginia Woolf: "One cannot think well, love well, sleep well if one has not dined well." I am doing all the above with high achievement lately :)

My bronze-bodied culinarian is making me risotto right now and it smells so profound I am overwhelmed in this moment by the beauty of marriage. Hope y'all are eating and loving well. Mwah!

"The fabric of your flesh, as pure as a wedding dress…"

I've been listening to "Howl" by Florence and the Machine for probably a half an hour. It's like when I listen to "One" by U2 and Mary J. Blige. I'm pulling a Mary J, ya know breakin' it down. Moozh always get a hefty laugh out of that because he doesn't understand the fierce bitch inside me, all locked up inside an awkward white girl. All good. At least Florence is white too. She's a ginger even! But the beats in her music matched with her howling (Ha! No pun…well yeah pun intended), practically rearranges my heartbeat. And makes me want to take my shoes off and dance on the lawn. And we have to share our lawn. Awkward.

Moozh and I took in the sunset last night playing chess and having wine and bread for dinner. Because we can. And because I grew up on the prairies and I always feel a little bit guilty when I don't take advantage of the waterfront, especially when the sun is OUT. It has been remarkably sunny lately, I will concede.

And because it sounds like a cool thing to do. There I said it. Sigh.

Made soup and popovers for dinner from the Moosewood cookbook lent to me by a lovely new friend. We swapped cookbooks after we had had too much wine. It's the female version of "I love you man."
"Make this cake. Oh my gawd, it's so good. But it's so easy. Seriously, I'm not kidding."
And so I did. No cake yet, but "Gypsy Soup". It just kinda sounds like I'd want to eat it. And popovers are always yummy. LIke puffy muffins. Puffy muffin biscuits. Puffinscuits…..new word.

I found this blog called "The Daybook" through Pinterest. She taught some of my first Photoshop photo processing. But she has this fun portion called "Awesome and Awkward" where you categorize what happened in your day. My days would be a tad one-sided methinks. IN THE AWESOME CATEGORY. Obviously.

Here goes:
Awesome -

• Handing out resumes like I was on a paper route. Let's get us a fine job!
• I didn't get beaten at chess every round last night. I never won but I managed enough stalemates to stay above water. 
• We saw someone walking their dog on the beach and the dog was a dead ringer for Stitch from Lilo and Stitch. It made me seriously want one. I think it's a French Bulldog. "I got a dog! It's a collie…that was hit by a truck." Cutester. 

Awkward -

• When it gets hot my hair gets all droopy and my bangs look like Nick Carter from The Backstreet Boys. You know, when the 90's where the 90's (said with a serious sad face). 
• Standing in my pyjamas in the sunlight pouring through our front windows, drinking my coffee and being thankful when a painter who's here because our building is being painted walks past my window and stares at me in my pjs. Awkward. 
• Giving people the 'death stare' when they stand in my way as I wait for the crosswalk. There is no way I could be in that much of a hurry. 

Happy September! Hope everyone had a nice Labor Day long weekend. I realized today…that it was yesterday. This is what happens when you're unemployed. You have absolutely no need to keep track of time. Unless you have to volunteer at a farm.

Question for today: What would your ideal meal be? Ritzy? Chill? Alone? With company?
I know mine would be a loaf of crusty bread, a chunk of cheese, a bottle of wine and my Moozh. I could eat this meal on the side of a highway and would still be beyond content. Mmm-mmm.

"Beauty in things exist merely in the mind which contemplates it..."

12 Project 2011! 

I pretty much headbutt my way through photoshop with a dunce cap on but we're working on it. 

Don't even ask me what's going on with my hair.  

Moozh and I don't have themes like I do with my bestie. But the pictures are taken because they're on our mind. There's another pic of me taken by the lovely Meggy Fowler. It's down on Granville Island, where we're going to be spending a lot more time.

bri

"…Muckers might make angels in its drafts as children do in snow, lovers in sheets, lie down and leave imprinted where they lay a feathered creature holier than they." Photos of a Salt Mine by P.K Page

Dear Y'all,


This week has drawn my summer to a close but I in fact feel less and less sure about what this Fall and, consequently this year, holds for me. I'm processing a lot of questions about school, about my writing degree and about my vision for my future. In the wake of these questions, I just decided to fill my timetable with achievable crafts and carbs to ensure a blithe contentment with what I'm working into. Discouragement can be a hard thing to work through because it unavoidably required taking a hard look at your expectations and whether they are…appropriate. It also takes examining a certain degree of romanticism in life. I would be the first proponent of maintaining the romance in life. But romanticism can also become idealistic and that is the perfect breeding ground for disappointment and discouragement. Blabbity-blab and so goes the mouth. I'll probably be digesting all this stuff here as well. And posting fun things that feed the romance of life. 


Psychosomatic Side Note: I always think of the curry Barracks Farmer's Market in Cowtown when I talk about 'romanticism'. The Farmer's Market was right across the street from where I studied Romantic literature. 


I tried out artisan bread, which has long plagued me with it's irresistible crust and upwards of 18 hour prep time. Letting it sit overnight didn't really gel with my unfettered obsession with carbs and my need for instant gratification with baking. I followed the process listed on the blog Ivory Hut, in which she uses a recipe from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, which I now have on my bookshelf. This bread is the bomb-diggity. What made me nervous about the bread was the involved nature of it and most of the recipes I had seen required it to be baked in a Dutch Oven. This recipe, while it did require about eight hours of 'prep' time, most of it was just waited for the dough and letting t just hang out in a bowl. You don't need to knead it and you really only handle the dough for about five minutes in total (thus the name). Moist, great crust, mild flavour and endlessly adaptable. I want to make an olive-rosemary loaf next and I've seen a recipe for spinach-feta that would be fantastic.  If you have a spare Saturday where you want to make some bread that's going to make you feel like a superhero, try this bread. Plus, I split the dough into three and froze the other two. They still bake up perfect and it makes the time commitment a little bit more rewarding. I have baked two out of my three loaves and I don't have any pictures because we eat it too fast. Perfect with soup, for bruschetta, or….


Grapefruit curd! I mentioned it with baited breath earlier in the week. And on Friday I actually got around to making it work. I have been a part of making lemon curd so many times during a holiday season. It's one of my dad's favourite treats to make around Christmas. It's always made with the intention of spooning it into tarts for Christmas Day but it inevitably is eaten by the spoonful at regular intervals that come Christmas Day there is not a sniff of curd to be found. My dad makes his in the microwave but I found a recipe for a grapefruit curd made on the stovetop and given my recent track record, I found myself dreading whatever would manage to go wrong with a lemon curd, namely 'curdling the eggs'. Nothing is more disgusting to me than curdled eggs. I'm on the fence about eggs anyway (it's my veggie head brainwashing) but eggs going awry in a sweet spread: gross. But after my achievement with the bread, I felt emboldened and dare I say, a tad punch drunk that I put my hesitations aside.

Taste-wise, it was a thing of beauty. Sweet but with a refreshing citrusy tartness, it is flecked with grapefruit and lemon zest and mixed with chunks of fresh ruby red grapefruit. But as you can see, it is a bit…loose. The recipe said that cooking it for less time would result in a soft curd (read: runny). I cooked it, inspecting each flick of the whisk for any trace of opaque egg white, for almost an hour waiting for it to thicken into a spread, more like this:

from Saint Marty via google images

But it did not materialize. There is no such "dollop capacity" with my curd. Look at the definable 'hole' left by the spoon! But as I said, it tastes wonderful. I gifted some of it to some of our favourite people who just tap danced back into Bankybear and they told me they tried it by the spoonful. Which means it was a success.

Happy Monday! Eat something with zucchini in it. I know I will be. 

P.S ~ Moozh and I want to do a home brew this year. Got any tips? 

I'm going to start doing this….

I found this on Pinterest. And I am going to start posting the fails. Because at least then I can laugh about it.

I hope it eventually gets this funny.