Confessions of a Young Woman

Theme Song - 2010 Olympics - I Believe (CTV Commercial - Nikki Yanofsky)

2010-02-13T10:48:00.001-08:00

Shane Koyczan - We Are More

2010-02-13T05:20:00.001-08:00

Royal Canadian Mint2

2010-02-12T14:58:00.001-08:00

Royal Canadian mint

2010-02-10T00:30:00.001-08:00

How to Tie Your Scarf Like a Parisian

2009-12-03T12:14:00.003-08:00

How to Tie Your Scarf Like a Parisian

2009-12-03T12:14:00.001-08:00

Paris

2009-09-29T01:31:00.001-07:00

The Market Day in France

2009-08-21T12:04:00.001-07:00

Market Day in France

2009-08-21T10:11:00.001-07:00

market day

2009-08-21T06:50:00.001-07:00

packing

2009-08-18T04:11:00.001-07:00

a simple guide to grilling

2009-07-13T14:36:00.001-07:00

a simple guide to grilling

2009-07-13T02:20:00.001-07:00

new camera!

2009-07-03T02:08:00.001-07:00

new and improved

2009-05-31T11:32:00.000-07:00

My blog has been re-vamped, check out the sexy new site here!

a taste of summer

2009-05-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

I woke up to the sun crawling under the curtains in my bedroom, peaking their ways through the cracks and the fine white fabric.

I threw on my bathroom and stumbled into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of tea, and broke open the tupperware to the freshly baked goods inside.

There is nothing more decadent than freshly baked goods in the morning. I wrapped my mouth around some coconut oatmeal bars, and then one of the rich oatmeal chocolate chunk cookies. Satisfaction.

I love to be in my family home in the summer. I have been spending most of my time downtown because of work, but head home whenever I have a day off.

My boyfriend and I stayed up late the night before, roasting a wild spring salmon which we served with rhubarb compote. We had the coconut bars drizzled in syrup for dessert, then read tarot cards for fun while finishing our wine.

The next day I didn't work until the evening so I took my time, enjoyed my morning pastries, and stewed the rest of the rhubarb to make a syrup for our morning pan-crepes this weekend (recipe and explanation of a pan-crepe to come).

I walked by the water long enough to get a mild sunburn, a healthy reminder to stock up on sunscreen, and was enamored with the heat that's finally come.

Back at home I lay on my deck reading cookbooks in the sun, warm, content, invigorated with ideas of what to cook next.

I made it back downtown in time for work, served tables with a smile on my face and left with some cash on my pocket.

The days of summer nurture my soul like the sun on cold skin. I feel myself becoming more and more alive, fitting perfectly into my own skin and sure of myself once more.

Spring was delicious but summer is mouth watering, and I look forward to every warm day to come.

Spring Salmon with Rhubarb Compote

Ingredients:
Fresh wild salmon
1/2 cup rice vinegar
1 tbsp. finely chopped ginger
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 finely chopped red onion
3-4 cups rhubarb

1. Reduce the rice vinegar, sugar, onion and ginger on the stove
2. Add the rhubarb and simmer together for 30-45 minutes (we burnt it a little which was still delicious)
3. Sear the salmon on one side (3-4 minutes)
4. Finish cooking salmon in the oven (5 minutes)
5. Plate salmon with compote and enjoy the delicious blend of flavors!

Coconut Oatmeal Bread
(Adapted from Krista's Coconut lime bars)

Bars:
1 cup oats
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
4 Tbsp agave nectar
1/2 cup unsweetened vanilla almond breeze
1/4 cup plain yogurt
1 egg and 1 egg white
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp cinnamon

Glaze:
1 tsp. powdered sugar
2 tsp lime juice
1/4 cup toasted sweetened coconut (for topping)

1. Preheat oven to 350 deg
2. Combine all dry ingredients in a large bowl
3. Combine wet ingredients in a separate bowl
4. Add wet to dry and stir until just combined
5. Pour batter in a greased 8x8 pan
6. Bake for 25 minutes
7. Allow to cool completely on a wire rack
8. In the meantime, mix the powdered sugar and lime juice until you get a glaze like consistency. *Pour over bars and spread to edges
9. Sprinkle with toasted coconut and cut into bars

real food for real women

2009-05-28T09:58:00.000-07:00

If you want to see me get angry ask me how I feel about low-fat yogurt.

Not only does it frustrate me that women are targeted with low-fat yogurt commercials as it being a "guilt-free" snack, but most of it tastes like cardboard.

I don't think food should ever be associated with guilt, which is difficult as a woman constantly being plagued with diet products that are supposed to make our lives easier.

The truth is, a product packed with chemicals and artificial sweeteners will not make your life easier. In fact, it will generally fill your body with things that aren't good for it and leave you unsatisfied.

Fat does not make you fat. Eating the wrong foods in large quantities does. It is sad that many people would feel more comfortable reaching for a 100-calorie Doritos snack pack than an avocado because of the fat and calorie content. We forget how good real food can make us feel and the long-term effects it has on our bodies and minds.

Food is one of life's greatest pleasures and our bodies are the best thing we've ever been given. Shouldn't we enjoy the two harmoniously?

This is a subject close to my heart as I want all women, and men, to get the most out of food. It's too good not to. I have gone over some basic foods that misrepresent themselves and have offered up some healthier options. I asked Meredith from Pursuing Balance, who is finishing her studies to become a dietician, to put her two cents in.

Low-fat Granola Bars vs. Larabars

While some granola bars seem like a great snack option because they're low in calories and have ingredients like granola in them, they may not be your best choice. Most granola bars sold in grocery stores have extremely long ingredient lists including corn syrup and mystery ingredients you can't pronounce. I generally try not to buy anything with over five ingredients and was very excited when I discovered Larabars. These bars usually contain three or four or natural ingredients like dates, nuts and coconut. They are high in fiber and healthy fats and are a life saver to carry around with you. While they may have double the calories and be higher in fats, the calories are coming from all-natural ingredients that will energize your body, satisfy your taste buds, and carry you further through the day.

Meredith says: It is so important when looking at nutrition label to not only focus on the numbers (calories, fat grams, etc), but also on the ingredients themselves. You would be surprised at how many non-food products are listed as ingredients in processed food. High fructose corn syrup is in everything -- bread, ketchup, fruit preserves, granola bars, cereals, salad dressings . . . and it's been linked to obesity, type II diabetes, and fatty liver. Next time you are in the grocery store, try to find a bread that does not contain HFCS. It takes a while, doesn't it? And goodness was I surprised when the only fruit preserves I could find without it was the "low sugar" variety! Even Fiber One bars, which seem like a great, healthy option, contain HFCS. I much prefer Lara bars, which have short, completely recognizable lists of ingredients that I feel comfortable putting in my body.

Light Salad Dressings vs. Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar

I've seen many fridges are stocked with a bounty of bottled dressings. I've dabbled in a few and while some are tasty enough, the ingredient list tends to be outrageously long. As someone who loves food and is crazy about vegetables, it seems a bit of a shame to pour all of these things over something that's perfect as it is. It takes just as long to drizzle a small amount of olive oil, which is great for your skin and body, and a splash of balsamic vinegar. If you want to take your salad a step further you can reduce your balsamic vinegar into a syrup on the stove, or throw in some crushed garlic and mustard for an extra kick. It is always a shame to see bottled dressing on the table when it's so much fun-and a more natural alternative-to go gourmet and make your own. I say toss the bottles, pick up some great olive oil and balsamic vinegar and taste the difference.

Meredith says: Here is an ingredient list for a lite dressing. : HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP, WATER, VINEGAR, SOYBEAN OIL, CORN SYRUP, SALT, CONTAINS LESS THAT 2% OF MODIFIED FOOD STARCH, PAPRIKA, CITRIC ACID, XANTHAN GUM, POLYSORBATE 60, DRIED GARLIC, VITAMIN E, NATURAL FLAVOR, YELLOW 6, YELLOW 5. Now, keep in mind that ingredients are listed by weight, so the HFCS is what makes up the majority of this dressing. Instead of buying into this science experiment, I like to make my own lite dressing of balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, and rosemary.

Diet Coke vs. Sparkling Water

I have a confession: I love diet coke. I grew up on it and spent a long time kicking the habit. While there can be nothing better than a chilled pop on a hot day...there actually can be something better. Diet coke tends to leave a strange film on my teeth and leave my head and stomach in limbo afterwards. Drinking Perrier or San Pellegrino with a squeeze of lemon quenches my thirst just as well, or better, without throwing unnecessary chemicals into my body. As a cheaper alternative I'm also a big fan on the poor man's Perrier, club soda with a squeeze of lime.

Meredith: Some studies indicate that artificial sweeteners (found in many diet foods, such as yogurt and soda) can lead to an increase in caloric consumption. Basically, your body presumes that when you are eating something sweet, it will also be a high energy (calorie) food. In the case of artificial sweeteners, however, the body becomes confused because that sweetness does not equal energy (calories). This makes you more likely to overindulge later because your body has trouble regulating the amount of calories being consumed and signaling satisfaction. Additionally, artificial sweeteners have been shown to slow metabolism in laboratory rats. These factors can lead to weight gain.

One thing I do want to point out about aspartame is that according to the American Dietetic Association and a global panel of food safety experts, current aspartame consumption (4-9 mg/kg/bw/day) is safe. The acceptable daily intake level is actually about 50 mg/kg/bw/day -- about 20 cans of diet soda per day. The studies that indicated cancer involved pumping lab animals just full of the stuff, and as you know, too much of anything is bad!

Low-fat Yogurt vs. Full-fat Plain Yogurt

And last, but not least, the great yogurt debate. I once asked a young man in the grocery store where the Mediterranean yogurt was. "You mean the one that's 10% fat?" "Yes, that would be the one," I replied. Some people have told me not to get them hooked on the stuff because of the fat content. But it is more than worth it. It is rich in good, natural fats and probiotics and tastes like heaven. Unlike liquidy, sweet low-fat flavored yogurts, it is rich and full and you only need a small bowl. It is wonderful with a drizzle of honey or maple syrup and terribly satisfying. Any time I've had low-fat yogurt I've needed at least two or three portions to feel remotely full and I never feel satisfied by the taste. I'd much rather have the taste of a rich and creamy indulgence in my mouth than aspartame and chemicals, which will end up making me eat more in the long run.

Meredith says: Most processed foods (diet or not) contain large amounts of phosphorus. In excessive amounts, phosphorus can inhibit calcium absorption, causing a detriment to our bones and teeth. This is an excellent reason to limit processed foods in the diet.

"Eat food. Though in our current state of confusion, this is much easier said than done. So try this: Don't eat anything your great-great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food. ...There are a great many foodlike items in the supermarket your ancestors wouldn't recognize as food (Go-Gurt? Breakfast-cereal bars? Nondairy creamer?); stay away from these."

— Michael Pollan, Unhappy Meals, New York Times Magazine

*Here is another helpful link on how to navigate the grocery store

midnight baker

2009-05-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

I love to bake at odd hours.

The other night I baked a strawberry apple crisp at midnight. In France I once stayed up until two in the morning making plum jam. The other morning I work up before five and baked bran muffins. Last night after dinner the urge hit again, and I set off to make some incredible oatmeal cookies. Late after midnight I was still scraping the last cookies off the pan to cool.

Anyone who knows me well knows I'm happiest in the kitchen. When my hands are touching good ingredients and making something wonderful I am terribly content.

I don't have a major sweet tooth but I love batter off the spoon and I melt for anything fresh out of the oven. After I've satisfied those urges I take great pleasure in sharing what I've made.

Some cookies have gone to the restaurant, others to my boyfriend's work and the rest will go to my hairdresser, my dad and of course some for us as well.

Since I can't personally deliver the cookies to all of my readers, I will share the recipe so you can bring the warm smell into your own kitchen.

Chewy Oatmeal Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Ingredients:
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup shortening
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon clove
1/2 teaspoon allspice
3 cups old fashioned oats
1 1/2 chopped large bars of good swiss chocolate (chunks make everything better)

Directions:
1. In a large bowl, combine butter, shortening and sugars.
2. Add eggs and vanilla and beat until fluffy.
3. Combine flour, salt, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves and allspice.
4. Add to creamed mixture; mix to blend.
5. Stir in oatmeal and raisins.
6. Drop a tablespoon of dough onto cookie sheet about 2-inches apart. Cookies will spread!
7. Bake at 350°F for 12-15 minutes.
8. When you take them out of the oven they will be very soft, so carefully put them on plates or leave on cookie sheet to cool before moving to rack.
8. Remove to a cooling rack.
9. Indulge!

EAT!

2009-05-26T17:05:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of going to EAT! Vancouver, a food and cooking festival this weekend.

I'm not going to lie, I was looking forward to this event months in advance. The idea of a room filled with gourmet food, samples, cooking demonstrations and celebrity chefs is almost too much for me to handle.

Upon arrival I strategically planned a tour around the whole event to taste everything before deciding what to buy. The samples were abundant and I quickly filled up on fresh sushi, mushroom scones, crackers and barbados hot sauce, all-natural desserts and chocolate.

I even got to see one of my favorite Food Network stars live! While I am completely enamored with Ricardo and his show, the set-up wasn't great and I quickly got back to shopping.

One of the great things about sampling so many different things is I got to discover a few great new products. I left the event with a bag full of goodies, some free magazines, a full belly and a big grin on my face. It's always good to eat.

Mrs.May's all natural nut snacks. These packs have sweet little clusters of slow roasted nuts and are absolutely delicious. I eat a ton of nuts to keep my energy levels up and to make sure I get enough calories when I'm on my feet all day. These are a great thing to sneak into my bag before work.

Watkins vanilla extract and Omega Crunch shelled flax seed. I love the Watkins old fashioned packaging, but they also make a great product. I can always use a good vanilla to throw into my oatmeal, pancakes, baking and even smoothies and tea. I've already put quite a dent into this and probably should have bought a bigger bottle. The Omega Crunch flax seed is equally delicious, especially on top of my oatmeal in the morning. I'm very serious about staying in good digestive health and am always looking for ways to get for flax and fiber into my diet. This product is crunchy and sweetened with maple syrup. It gives a great kick of flavor and is even good as a crunchy snack by the spoonful!

And last but not least, Mrs.McGarrigle's mustard, yet to be sold in stores. They had such a wonderful selection of kinds to taste that I knew I had to get some. Mustard is great for salad dressings and marinades, and the flavored ones are great for taking a sauce to the next level. I chose my favorite of the lot: chipotle lime, hot whiskey, honey tarragon and wasabi lime.

big fish, small fish, cardboard box

2009-05-26T07:48:00.000-07:00

One of the best dance moves I learnt in Northern Ireland was "Big fish, small fish, cardboard box."

Basically you stretch your arms to the shape of a big fish, then a small fish, then move your hands into the shape of a cardboard box. Throw in some quick moves and techno music and you've got it going.

Yesterday my boyfriend called me from work with a recipe that made him think of me. It was a John Bishop's recipe for Ahi tuna and kale with a grainy mustard white wine sauce. Kale, tuna, grainy mustard and wine are very high up on my favourite things. Especially kale.

I picked up a beautiful piece of tuna and the fresh produce from Granville Island market and took the little ferry back into the city. Back at home I prepared a pre-dinner hummus using blended chickpeas, olive oil, white wine vinegar, herbes de provence, cayenne and sea salt and pepper. This smooth bowl of heaven was better than any store bought hummus we have tried (and we have tried quite the range).

For the sauce we reduced white wine, grainy mustard (we used honey tarragon), shallots and honey into half on the stove. Once it cooled down we popped in in the blender and added half as much oil as Bishop asked for.

I tend to like my sauces a little more acidic, especially with fish, and avoid too much oil when possible. The sauce was a little bland so I threw in a few cloves of garlic and some sea salt and pepper which finished it off nicely

We sauteed the kale in butter, ginger and garlic and left it to steam while I began my barbeque lesson. The doors of heaven are opening and the angels are singing, I now know how to barbeque. The endless possibilities make me quiver in excitement.

I seared the tuna for two minutes on each side on a high heat, leaving it beautifully cooked to medium rare, the pink flesh of the tuna bright on the inside.

Everything came together beautifully: the steamed kale, the seared tuna and the white wine sauce were light yet hearty, salty and savory. We drank a nice local B.C wine, Mission Hill, with our meal and were both happy with the results.

Since I love new recipes as guidelines for my own I'm excited to play around with this recipe, maybe next time with a miso glaze and crunchy baked kale!

Bon appetit!

Ahi Tuna with Kale

Vinaigrette:
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1 cup dry white wine
1 tbsp coarsely chopped shallots
1 tbsp honey
2 tbsp grainy mustard
1/2 cup olive oil (I used more like 1/4 cup or less)
*garlic if desired

Reduce ingredients (without olive oil) to half on the stove by bringing to a boil and then simmering. Allow to cool and then slowly blend and add in olive oil.

Tuna and greens:
1/2 tbsp butter
1/2 tsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp fresh grated ginger
1/2 bunch kale (no stems)
sea salt
freshly ground pepper

Preheat bbq to a high heat then saute butter, garlic and ginger until aromatic. Add the kale, wet from rinsing, and let it steam with the lid on. Season with salt and pepper. Rub the tuna steaks in vegetable oil, season with salt and pepper and grill to medium rare (2-3 minutes per side).

Put all the goodies together and enjoy with a fine local wine!

If you have any leftover tuna and dressing use it for a salad the next day! The seared tuna is great cold and the dressing makes for a wonderful vinaigrette over some romaine and fresh vegetables.

constant craving

2009-05-25T08:34:00.000-07:00

I am head over heels with the ocean, the mountains and the sunshine that has started to pour itself like warm butter over the city.

The days are a healthy balance of work and pleasure and I find myself very happy here.

But I still have a constant craving, a yearning in my belly for a warm croissant and a strong black cafe on a patio outside in France.

The summer months always make me yearn for my second home, where I have spent many sun drenched days walking country hills and indulging on sweet seasonal plums.

I am craving the slow days of the South of France and some faster days window gazing in Paris.

For now I don't want to be anywhere but here, but it won't be too long until France whispers my name again.

'I just made love to an almond croissant. We skipped the small talk. I picked it up from the local Patisserie, and held tight all the way home. Should we do it in the park? No, no, I wanted it in my apartment, lying on a plate, and enjoyed in privacy. I could barely contain myself. As I crossed the street the weight in my hand whispered to my taste buds the pleasure that was to come. It was so much heavier than a plain croissant, it’s body full of rich filling, it’s outside smothered in slivered almonds and icing sugar. We took the stairs, if only to prolong the excitement. Once we were back in the apartment I undressed it from it’s paper packaging. I set it out on a plate, grabbed a knife, and took it to my bed. I opened it up, the soft, buttery, marzipan filling exposed. I cut off pieces and sent them into my mouth. Every bite was better than the last. Every taste exploded in my mouth. I tried to push away other thoughts and focus all my attention on my pastry. Eventually I finished every bit of its long body, the sweetness still lingering on my tongue. It’s gone now. We never said goodbye. But I know we’ll meet again.'

-A piece of writing from when I was living in Paris

happiness is a choice

2009-05-20T10:55:00.000-07:00

I will be the first to admit I have been very lucky in my life.

In my twenty-two years I have lived well, travelled far, eaten like a queen and have loved and been loved immensely.

There have still been many times when I have chosen not to be happy. As a teenager I dwelled in my unhappiness, vented it out in poetry and always wished for something more. As I climbed out of that uncomfortable stage I learnt, and am still learning, what truly makes me happy. Now I choose to dwell in happiness.

Life is not perfect and I am far from, but it is so rich once you let yourself take a bite. I choose to enjoy every beautiful day, to eat the foods that give me pleasure and keep me healthy. I choose to be kind to people because it makes me happy.

For our anniversary my boyfriend and I took off to Granville Island on an unbelievably warm and sunny day. We grabbed some coffee, sat in the sunshine, and walked the docks and admired all the boats. I decided that one day I will retire on a beautiful boat with a well stocked bar. We ate seafood on a patio underneath a bridge and wandered the island. We stopped into an arts and crafts store where he bought me jewelry from a local artist to celebrate. Her simple designs and thoughtful messages made it hard for me to resist.

I chose a pair of earrings, one says Love and the next says Life, and a necklace with the message 'Happiness is a Choice'. These messages ring deep for me because in the past couple of years, and most strongly in the past few months, I have decided to love life to its fullest and allow myself to be happy.

That night as I served tables, my necklace dangling down my neckline, I had a constant reminder of what's important to me. I had one table who I talked with at length about health and happiness, and they told me I was probably the best waitress they'd ever had. It was a wonderful feeling to put something out there and feel it come right back.

I will not always be happy and I will always let myself cry when I need to. But for the most part I want to love my life and allow myself to get the most out of it. I want to continue to dream, travel, love life and choose happiness.

Enjoying a Granville Island patio, blanket included!

About to dig in to a wonderfully spicy Korean hot pot...

there's no place like home

2009-05-17T10:08:00.000-07:00

For the first time in years I am home.

I have been back in forth to Vancouver many times, but never for long enough to take it all in. I am usually running around trying to make the most out of my short stay and see as many people as possible.

But this time I'm letting myself settle a little, I'm enjoying walks by the water, drives into different parts of town, and yesterday I enjoyed a walk through Vancouver's glorious Stanley Park.

Nature is the best therapist I know. It is mood enhancing, thought provoking and calms something inside of me that rarely settles down.

I felt so lucky yesterday, walking along the ocean then climbing up into the park trails with my boyfriend. The trees were giant and alive all around us in vibrant shades of green. Large tree stumps left over from storms looked like little forts out of story books, and the whole park felt like a fairy tale.

With all the ways to spend a Saturday, this has to be the best. After a good walk through the park and a relaxed lunch on the patio I was ready to go serve tables for the night with my mind in the right place.

I took on my first party at the restaurant, made a few mistakes, but did a good job overall and came home late at night with some cash in my pocket.

After a lot of stress and heartache about where I stand in life I am starting to feel good about it. I'm earning a bit of money, working towards future goals and taking in the scenery while I'm at it.

Speed walking to work up a sweat!

love on the sidewalk

2009-05-16T17:08:00.000-07:00

There was a public love note on the sidewalk this morning. It was hard not to follow the arrows and smile...

days like this

2009-05-11T21:09:00.000-07:00

The rain finally stopped pouring after dinner.

Sometimes this city is a weeping widow and the sky pours itself out in small bursts, then heavier bursts, stops for a second and then resumes.

I have never been good at rainy days. My hands go blue, I struggle to keep warm and my usual optimism falls by the wayside.

This morning I received my grades from my last semester of university. I did extremely well in the courses that matter most to me and passed a course I feared failing. I smiled to myself, celebrated with a hot shower and a casual lunch with my mother. We spent the day running errands and I prepared for my job as a server that starts tomorrow.

While the sky poured buckets I caramelized onions and prepared a stew on the stove. My grandfather called, and when I told him I got a job at a restaurant he said I should be looking for jobs in journalism. I told him the search goes on, and he said that I should be in the chair beside him sipping whiskey.

Minutes later my dad called to say he was coming home early, his voice bright as this is unusual in his industry.

When we sat down for dinner the sky cleared and the sun poured through the kitchen windows. The cold that stuck to my body all day started to drift away. I felt warm in my parents company, their presence calm and comforting, the perfect accompaniment to the hearty stew of vegetables, salmon and chickpeas.

After dinner I walked down the steep hill to the water, the roads still damp from the rain. I walked along the seawall with the wind in my face and the waves crashing against the rocks. I felt instantly revitalized, strong and good in my own skin. It may take time, but I can do anything.

I put on my headphones and turned up some Motown and a little Van Morrison, feeling a little more at home within myself and this city again.

Congratulations to Jenn Jamieson for winning the Donna Hay cookbook contest! Thanks to the few who contributed, I loved your stories and hope to give out more great food books in the future!

mother mother

2009-05-10T10:37:00.001-07:00

Around midnight the lead singer stood under the spotlight and wished a happy Mother's Day to the crowd of young bodies.

The crowd cheered back, lifted their drinks, passed their joints, and made a public toast to Mother's Day with the band Mother Mother in the Commodore Ballroom.

Floating on several glasses of wine I cheered loudly for the most important woman in my life.

My mother and I are in similar stages right now. Forget the age gap, we are both in stages of transition, worried about how to get the most out of the rest of our lives.

She stresses over trying to sell the house and I stress over my career. We both know we have to be patient to get what we want. The right family will eventually walk into our house and see its true value, and the right job will come my way when I'm ready for it.

We calm each other, confide in each other, and I thank her for being honest about her emotions. My mother has taught me that it is okay to cry, to question yourself and to want the most out of life.

She has taught me the beauty of adventures, travel and education. Without her I would have never had it in me to move to Northern Ireland, her strong will making my dream a reality. Without her I would have never had the courage to move to Paris and take a year off of school, but my mother always taught me never to let my schooling get in the way of my real education. At a young age I learnt that you take away the most from life by living it to the fullest.

And while I'm 22 and she is sexy at 60, our hearts are in the same place, young and full. I watch her in amazement, working in the garden, dancing in the kitchen, groaning over a delicious dinner, taking off at night to go catch a live band with her best friend, and wonder if I will ever be as young and radiant at any age. I often tell my friends that my mom is much cooler and more fun than I am.

While we may stress and cry and groan at times, we know how to get the most out of life and we will continue to do so. My sweet mother mother, I want to continue this adventure with you. Since I could walk I've been trotting along beside you. I've followed you through foreign cities, shared pasta with you in Italy, broken through crème brulée with you in Paris, listened to live Irish music in Belfast with you, have taken ferries with you in Greece and woken up to new islands, have stood stranded by a broken down car with you on our way to Vermont, and have grown with you all along the way.

I am so lucky to have been born yours. You are an amazing mother, but also the best teacher, friend and travel companion I could ever hope for.

will work for food

2009-05-04T16:37:00.000-07:00

I don't think it's unusual to graduate and feel a little lost.

For years I had my life set out for me and a guideline to follow. I remember telling my art teacher in high school that I found it strange that we go to preschool to prepare for kindergarden, to prepare for elementary school, to prepare for high school, to prepare for college or university, to prepare for our careers, where we anticipate our retirement and then plan the last years of our lives. He told me I couldn't look at life that way. In hindsight, he was right.

It is a big open world out there and I have to stop bowing my head in shame when people ask what I'm doing now. While it's hard to believe that I haven't been offered the perfect job with a high salary and a spot on Oprah yet, it's something I have to accept.

I am living at home, I haven't started working yet, I don't know how to drive and I still need to learn how to ride a bike. All of these things keep coming up in conversation and I struggle with where I stand.

But at the same time the past years of my life have been so well lived I need to focus on how far I've come and how far I can go. I finished four years in a competitive program, lived in Paris, had my first photography exhibit, helped start a fine dining business, loved a lot, ate well, and grew into the young woman I had always hoped to me.

I am happy, healthy, strong-minded and full of ideas. If it means waiting tables to make a bit of money to do what I really want to do, so be it. I know where I want to go and I'm prepared to take baby steps to get there.

And under the backdrop of the mountains, the ocean and this beautiful city I will continue to enjoy my true passions, spending time with those I love and cooking up a storm.

What does food mean to you and what role does it play in your life? Post your own personal story in the comment section and you will be entered to win a great cookbook by Donna Hay! This gorgeous book is filled with great photos and tempting recipes.

a taste of home

2009-04-28T03:18:00.000-07:00

The sun shines through the kitchen every morning.

It glides along the Mexican tiles as I cut up fruit for breakfast, make tea, and pull out food for house guests to help themselves.

This house has been beaming with wonderful people since I arrived. I arrived with my friend Carly from school, and now have two of my old room mates shacking up with me.

Since I have arrived life has been a celebration of beautiful dinners, dancing, talking, exploring and taking on each day with excitement. It has been so long since I've really lived in Vancouver that I feel like I've moved to a new city I need to discover little by little.

Love pumps through my veins and yet I am also nervous about the great job hunt. I still need to get myself organized in this city and figure out what I'm doing. You can't rush some things but I'm hungry to get started.

But for now, I remind myself to take a deep breath and enjoy the company of my family and friends. Life is as sweet as ever and I don't want to miss out on any of it.

oh babe take me home

2009-04-22T21:13:00.000-07:00

After a perfectly cooked beef tenderloin and a few (or more) celebratory glasses of sparkling wine I am getting down to business.

Half of my suitcase is packed, my clothes are in the washing machine, and I'm enjoying my last late night hours in this wonderful house.

Since the first night I slept here I felt at home. The walls exude Mary's warmth and charm, and loving memories of her husband Patrick are everywhere. I'll miss cooking on the gas stove, eating dinner on stools at the counter, and standing around with a cup of tea talking to Mary. I see myself as a very lucky person, and I consider myself very fortunate for having been welcomed into this home.

And now I prepare for the next stage of my life. I am looking forward to getting into a healthy routine in Vancouver. I have been all over the map for so long in my sleeping, eating and travelling. The West coast is the perfect setting for me to get a little more exersice, eat healthfully, and hopefully find a great job. I am accepting that finding my dream job may take time but am looking forward to producing some great personal projects on the side. I want to make big changes with the blog and start putting out many more videos.

Tomorrow night I'll fly to the city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, and for the first time in five years I'll be home for a solid length of time. I'm looking forward to it.

As much as I love Toronto, I'm ready to go back to the first place I ever called home. I may be back at some point, but for now I'm craving the ocean at my toes and the mountains at my fingertips.

just wanted to say

2009-04-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

I finished my last exam today and am pretty much a university graduate!

But that's all for now, bubbly and steak await me!

demo time!

2009-04-20T10:02:00.001-07:00

time moves forward and I stand still

2009-04-18T18:22:00.000-07:00

This morning Mary and I took off to the market in the early morning light.

This wonderful woman I've been living with is so full of life, and when I mentioned I wanted to go to the market the night before she jumped at the idea and suggested we take off as early as possible.

The weather, good company, and morning market made it easy to crawl out from under my duvet.

As we drove down the sun caressed the red brick buildings of Cabbagetown, and a day as light as summer took over the city. From the car we walked down to the market armed with our plastic shopping bags and grins on our faces.

Mary has become my friend and confidante in the past few months. She took me in at a time when I felt like I had nothing left in this city and gave it all back to me in abundance. Her generosity, warm approach to life and her loving nature inspire me on a daily basis. I feel comfortable by her side and invigorated at the same time.

At the market we took the approach of strolling every aisle before choosing our produce. We passed a couple that are probably older than my grandparents yet are out every Saturday selling eggs from their farm. We passed Ruth from Montfort Dairy, people lining up to buy her incredible goat cheese and crackers. We passed Uncle Al and his barrels of root vegetables, chatty as ever to the customers that stop by.

I picked up some baby eggplants and Ontario Fuji apples before we made our way to the other end of the market for meat and bulked baking goods.

By the time we left my bag was heavy with beautiful produce and all the ingredients I needed to make a fresh batch of my grandmother's Irish dried fruit bread.

On the way home we stopped in to see Mary's brother, still waking up with his morning coffee, but his eyes and smile as bright and welcoming as Mary's at any hour. I got a grand tour of him and his partner's gorgeous space-large windows, spiral staircase and a great patio-before we headed back to the house.

I will miss Mary and all of the gems Toronto has to offer. At the same time, I'm hungry for everything else that is to come. I have been taking my days very slowly, spending a lot of time alone, doing things I think need to get done and trying to wrap my head around it all. I am moving into the next stage of my life and want to do so as gracefully as possible.

Time is moving very quickly and in less than a week I'll be in Vancouver. I, on the other hand, stand still, move slowly, and plot the days to come.

The lovely Mary and I, refusing to take a nicely posed picture and me rudely blocking her beautiful face!

my grandmother's kitchen

2009-04-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

Kay & Gillian make Irish bread

a little town called hope

2009-04-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to think about what I want to do with my one wild and precious life.

As I walk down the streets on a sunny Easter morning in Port Hope, where my grandparents live, it all seems clear. I want health, happiness, adventure, beauty and love.

I want to feel excited about the way I'm living in life. I want to set goals and reach them. I want to create beautiful things, and surround myself in beauty as often as possible, whether it's out in nature, in a museum, a flower shop or a stunning boutique. I want to be there for my family when they need me. I want to love and be loved in return.

While plotting my future these are all things I need to keep in mind. I keep coming back to the thought that I need to encourage health, food and adventure in people's lives. I want to help other young women feel good about their bodies and excited about their lives. I have a few projects brewing in my head on where to take these ideas.

Tonight is my last night in my grandparent's home after a leisurely Easter weekend. I slept late, ate well (too healthfully in my grandfather's eyes), studied, spent time with my brother, enjoyed the sunshine and even put together a cooking video with my grandmother!

I am enjoying my last days in Ontario as I mentally plot my big move to Vancouver. Today I shipped off a box of Spring clothing to await me when I get back. I am excited for the sunny days to come, a little anxious about job hunting, but full of hope.

Dressed in my grandfather's digs to go for a walk at night!

Getting my grandpa to start the day off right with a healthy green smoothie!

My camera isn't working right now so all of these are courtesy of my iPhone!

when we were young

2009-04-11T22:47:00.000-07:00

It is hard to believe that it has been five years since I started university, and I started this blog.

As I look back on my writing I'm impressed with the young woman who moved to Toronto, walked around the city, went out dancing, and learnt to voice her concerns about love, life and herself. I am still that woman, and in many ways I have progressed, and in other ways I envy the honesty my writing once carried.

Still, I am proud of how far I've come. Now, as my university days have come to a close and I sit with one final exam on my shoulder, I feel happy, light, good about where I stand. Over these past years I've grown stronger, more experienced and better educated. I was reluctant to go to university in the first place, but I have no regrets about the four years I spent there or the year I spent living in Paris. I feel good about the decisions I've made and the person I've grown into.

The best part is acknowledging I still have a lot to learn. Maybe now, after university, I will be learning the most important lessons in life.

Monday, September 6, 2004
After days of finding myself without words, struggling to write emails, and leaving my journal pages a virginal white, I have decided to enter the world of blogging. I need to write for the sake of my sanity. I don't know where this will take me. I don't know how honest and ruthless I will be able to be. From now on however I am a journalist; I must grow accustomed to writing and writing truthfully. I recently read an article about a Starbucks worker who was fired for writing negative comments about the company in his blog. He said that none of his fellow workers had the address and that it was meant to be private; he soon discovered the internet is not private. Is it dangerous to post my heart and soul this publicly? I suppose it can be. Then again I've shared my poetry with many. It may not be as public as the internet, but I take a deep breath anytime anyone reads a poem of mine. These poems often say everything I can't, everything I'm too afraid to say out loud. Something inside me tells me to express myself in every way possible, and I feel keeping a blog is taking a big step forward.

My life has taken a big turn recently and it will be good to have somewhere to vent. I sit in my dorm room, seventeen years old, miles away from home, ready to emerge myself into a hands on journalism course. I am standing on the edge of everything. I feel numb and invigorated all at once. Everyday I wander the city of Toronto and take in everything around me. I like it best on my own, where my feet lead me where they want to, where I can stop into shops, touch fabrics, rifle through second hand books, and feed my senses. This city is alive and I can't get over the fact that it's two seconds outside my doorstep. My urban spirit is beaming in these surroundings, and so am I.

Self-portrait, first year of university.

i only sleep when i'm with you

2009-04-06T04:29:00.000-07:00

It's early in the morning and I'm awake, cup of tea in hand, after having been up most of the night.

I lay in bed for hours, not anxious, but wired, adrenaline running through my body, my eyes darting around the room.

This week is my last week of school. After that I have a couple of weeks before my final exam and then I'm done. Four years of school and a Bachelor's degree in broadcast journalism will be tucked under my arm as I board the plane to Vancouver. For the first time since I was a young teenager, I will be spending an entire summer at home.

In August my brother gets married, and then I may take off and travel, or return for work depending on the circumstances. It's nice not knowing. It comforts me to know that there is always the possibility of travel, and that when Paris or London whisper my name I can call back "I'm coming!"

I flew home a week ago to surprise my mom for her 60th birthday. I was presented with a bow on my collar, a gift from my aunt, to my shocked mother at a nail salon downtown. She stood speechless and took me in her arms. My short stay was full of celebration, and I was overwhelmed by love towards the people at home. My mother stuck true to being sexy at sixty and was radiant at her birthday party. When I saw my dad for the first time and he hugged his arms around me I was overwhelmed by the love and familiarity than ran through my body. I also got to see family friends over the years, to spend time with my new beau who makes my heart flutter more every time I see him, and to re-acquaint myself with my cousin, his wife and children.

Some of the highlights of my weekend included doing my make-up for the party with my six-year-old cousin, who put eye shadow on her nose and her chin declaring "I'm a laadddyy, putting on my make-up!" And going to the Vancouver Art Gallery with my mother, where one exhibit allowed us to play electric guitars, drums, a keyboard and to sing into a microphone in a soundproof room, all of the sounds playing in the lobby downstairs. Needless to say we unleashed our inner rockstars and I made my mom laugh by screaming into the microphone and telling everyone to get out of the lobby.

There is something special about coming home after being away for so many years. For the longest time I wanted to get as far away from Vancouver as possible and these days I can't think of anything more wonderful than spending a few months under a backdrop of mountains and the Pacific Ocean. I am no longer the young woman who dreaded the halls of my high school and dreamed of graduating as quickly as possible. I have graduated, I have seen more of the world, and I'm ready to come home.

And so I lie awake at night, not anxious, but excited. Dreaming with eyes wide open of all the things I want to do with my future.

sexy at sixty

2009-03-28T23:22:00.001-07:00

She likes foods you can eat with your hands, sensual figs, olives and artichokes. She wears lacy tops, flowing skirts, and believes you should always blow your budget on lingerie.

Even more than that she is smart, filled with great ideas and literature. She is confident enough to dance on tables, speak her mind at any given moment, and to do the things that give her pleasure.

A former beauty queen, actress and dancer, she found something in writing, a voice for her passionate soul. She raised three children with strong values, and moved to France with them, making it look easy. She took them to museums around the world, read them poetry, and encouraged their individualities.

To this day she is beautiful, an actress with her eccentric hand gestures and Southern twang she likes put on, a dancer at any party or in any kitchen, and the most honest and erotic writer that I've ever read.

If this doesn't sound like a sexy woman, than I don't know what does.

My mother will always be beautiful and sexy to me, and anyone that knows her. I admire her fire, her courage, her elegance as she sits at a cafe with a notepad and ballpoint pen, writing page after page. I envy her ability to eat whatever she pleases, say whatever she wants, and look better in a pair of tight jeans than I do.

My aunt once said "Your mom has such a great little body! But she hides it under flowing clothing!" She doesn't flaunt her sexiness, but owns it, and reveals it subtly in velvets and laced, her neck smelling of Opium perfume, earrings dangling on her ears.

They say that as you get older you become more and more like your parents. If I can get older with the same fiery, bold, sensual nature as my mother I will be proud. She is, and always has been, a sexy woman who understands the art of living. And today, at sixty, I think she just got a little sexier.

Why is Yvonne so Sexy at sixty?
Firstly, her self-confidence and uniqueness make her so appealing. She is happy in her own skin. She inspires you to fulfill your own potential. You are brought into her fold and felt caressed and loved immediately.

Her sexuality is displayed in her ability to dress in a style that reflects her inner voice, She is a one-of-a-kind a masterpiece that you want to emulate and celebrate.

She is a woman possessing attributes that one strives a lifetime to achieve. She is loyal, independent, self-reliant, honest, dependable, happy, bold, witty and intelligent. Yvonne is a role model I want to emulate, I am enraptured by her magnitism. Her effervescent character, sense of humor, approachability give her an aura of incredible charm.

Furthermore, she accepts herself, accepts her sexuality and accepts her charms. Her sexuality is revealed in her talent, creativity, beauty and exuberant nature. Her caring for family, friends, neighbors and her own appearance underline her very feminine qualities.

I love you Yvonne and wish you a very Happy Birthday! May the approaching decade be flooded with good health, much happiness and prosperity.

Love,

Angela

Unlike the Young family, I am not much of a writer; however, I put this little "poem" together in her honour

Young
Vibrant
Outgoing
Natural
Nymphal
Engaging

YVONNE
We love you

Grosses bises,

Marie-Laure

Her sexiness exudes from her pores - her experience and appreciation of nature, its fruits, and bodies in general. Her appreciation of life and literature is sensual and sensuous, sexy in nature. It is a natural rebellion of all that was repressed in her childhood. Childhood is very sexy and alive, but we don't like to talk about it in those terms. Your mother is constantly trying to recapture that whether she is aware of it or not. What make it so wonderful is her incredible respect for others, nature, and life that makes it more vibrant.

All my love, Helen

As for sexy sixty that is easy.

Yvonne was a sexy teenager at Ryerson (remember I was young too). A sexy bride on a very sexy honeymoon. A sexy wife or life partner as she would say. A very sexy glowing pregnant woman as she carried
our three children. Now that she is turning sixty she is as sexy as ever if not more so. Perhaps because we see life differently now or as Joni Mitchell said "Monogamy is sexy".
Who knows. She is a beatiful Irish lass who can't help being sexy. She always will be.

Rob

Aside from the way she is so caring and friendly and generous, and that I don't really beleive she is turning 60 because she in no way looks like it, what charms me the most about your lovely mother is how open minded she is. I remember as a teenager feeling so comfortable around her, laughing with and talking to her and around her and not worrying what she would think of me. The summer I spent in France with you guys Yvonne made me feel so welcome. She is so full of energy but free of judgement, she feels more like a friend than a friend's mom - but a friend with alot more experience and wiser things to say. And better dance moves. I hope she has a fantastic birthday!

mucho love
shirin

Yvonne when we think of Sexy we think of you, because………….

Sexy is a woman who understands that life is an adventure and is never afraid to play a leading role in the next scene. Sexy women drink tequila, tell dirty jokes and forget what they did the next day. Sexy is someone who laughs easy and cries hard with those she loves.

A sexy women loves to dance, in tap shoes, after dinner on the kitchen floor. It doesn’t matter if she marks the terrazzo tiles, as long as she can express herself in sound and motion.

Sexy women don’t need men to prove they’re sexy. A bottle of good wine, dancing in circles to Leonard Cohen on the stereo, laughter and a girl friend is more than enough.

Sexy women love country and Western music. Real hurtin stuff that you can sing out loud, and picture yourself in every story told. She cries when love dies, but knows that tomorrow is another day.

She writes erotic poems, but doesn’t share easily. Occasionally though, the spirit moves her and she dares to let others into that secret place that only words can go.

Sexy women have sexy sisters. Together they are passionate, funny, crazy, wild, incorrigible, loving. They are so much alike, same mother, father sisters and brothers, same values, same truths and lies. So why are they different, unique, like a bouquet of flowers, each different but beautiful, vibrant and lovely. Although they don’t recognize it they are so much better, so much
more beautiful as a bunch rather that a single bloom.

A Sexy women understands the power of women and loves them for who they are. She holds them close for life understanding they are all sisters, unified by that which makes women unique, mothers of each other the earth, the wind and the sky. Their tears are sorrow, falling as raindrops that nourish all things that grow, their anger the storms that darken the sky, full of threat as they crash and blow but in the end wipe the world clean, their breath the wind that caresses the skin and their smile the sun that lights up the world and warms the heart of every sole alive. Sisters in life and beyond.

YVE on your birthday we celebrate not your age but your existence. The life you have lived, the wisdom you have shared, the love you have shown to so many friends. YOUR FAMILY we hold you close, understanding that you are so much apart of us that to try and separate even one memory would leave us wounded and incomplete. Happy Birthday, we love you.

Gael, Larry, Amie, Emily, Tommy and Sheeba XXXXXXXXXXXX0000000

Sexy at 60. The way she turns her head and smiles at you. Her wardrobe smart and sexy not granny style. Reading good books, meeting with her long time friends. Drinking good wine, dancing up a storm. Still married to her first love.We are the Zoomer's and we refuse to get old. We look after ourselves and do what is best for us. Turning 60 is not old, we live in a time where medicial advantages help us along.There is all kind's of anti-aging creams. We are the Boomer's. Happy 60th Yvonne. Have a great day, and I love you lot's. Your big sister Stephanie

Yvonne is six decades of six sexy words: hope, ambition, and pursuing dreams.

Kate

Yvonne:
Even though I'm an Amazon next to this delicate beauty, her strength of character more than makes up for her petite stature! There is nothing childlike about the depth of Yvonne's thoughts & sentiments. One of her most sexy traits is her deep, unaffected laugh. It is a most engaging characteristic that immediately draws one to Yvonne because you can sense her sincerity and honesty. Her throaty laughter makes her seem even more approachable and warm.

Lots of love from Christiane to Yvonne on the occasion of your 60th. Hope to see you soon.♥

sunday in the kitchen

2009-03-22T20:19:00.000-07:00

I went outside several times today, sunshine in my face, sunglasses over my eyes, and hands in my pocket.

It was warmer than usual, but the cool breeze still kept urging me inside. And another urge was humming inside of me, singing a tune it had been singing all week, begging me to get in the kitchen and bake.

I have never been a baker. While my grandmother can whip together a perfect Irish soda bread with her eyes closed, I am a work in progress. But with every recipe, I learn to pay better attention, and am always amazed at how mixed ingredients can transform into something so delicious, warm and fragrant once it comes out of the oven.

So tonight I set to work, first on cranberry scones, then some peanut butter cookies, and finally some spicy cajun roasted chickpeas.

I couldn't find parchment paper at any of the stores in my neighbourhood so I settled on muffin cups, which seem to be made out of the same material. I flattened them, wiped them with butter, and they did the trick just fine. I discovered this recipe for scones when I was last in Vancouver, and they are worthy of the highest high tea.

The peanut butter cookies were a little soft and some fell apart completely. But is there anything more delicious than a slighty undercooked cookie? I think not, and may have done this on purpose.

For the chickpeas I just roasted them for 45 minutes in olive oil and then spiced them up with some cajun seasoning, cayenne and salt. They make a great healthy, crunchy and highly addictive snack.

Half of the goods are being wrapped up and taken to my friend's house for editing tomorrow. He is in the process of piecing together our documentary, and as reporter I feel the least I can do is keep him fuelled.

I have also been going through my food books lately and am trying to cut down. Is anyone out there looking for a good foodie read? I've got it all, if you're interested give me a shout!

diamonds are a girl's best friend

2009-03-21T17:33:00.000-07:00

One young woman is pulling my hair through a curling iron, another is patting pale foundation onto my face and the other is painting my nails a deep red.

They are pulling me together into Marilyn Monroe, using old hollywood hair and make-up, trying desperately to make the curls hold in my straight hair and the make-up stick onto my moisturized face. A vintage book, bought of ebay for $100 and stolen from a library in Austria sits a few inches away from me, it contains secrets to 40's hairstyles. I have arrived naked faced, in yoga pants, a light top and sneakers on my feet. I am woman of 2009 being taken back through the decades.

Afterwards I slip into a small sparkly dress, diamond straps grazing my shoulders, and pull my arms through a goose feather jacket. My friend, the photographer, slips a large jewel onto my finger and we're ready for action.

With an old camera, we try out polaroids, and I attempt to find a sexy Marilyn somewhere inside of me. In the natural light, my make-up looks outlandish, but under the camera's lens it follows my friend's vision to old hollywood glamour. The polaroids are a glimpse of what's to come, beautiful prints, carefully photoshopped, and blown up large.

After the shoot I wipe off my make-up, pull my hair back into a bun, zip up my sporty jacket, throw my sunglasses on and head home to walk the dog. Comfortable in my skin, I inhale the smell of burning firewood in the park, and I'm taken back to the smell of chimneys in France.

It was a well balanced day, starting off with a little glitz and glamour, and returning to a quiet night, alone with a home made dinner, a hot bath and book awaiting me.

"In Hollywood a girl's virtue is much less important than her hairdo. You're judged by how you look, not by what you are. Hollywood's a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for kiss, and fifty cents for your soul. I know, because I turned down the first offer often enough and held out for the fifty." -Marilyn Monroe

waking up to you

2009-03-17T09:47:00.000-07:00

Waking up to you motivates me to get out of bed.

This morning I pulled my jacket over my pyjamas, stuffed my cotton pants into a pair of boots, and took the dog outside, where everything bathed in your golden light.

Sunshine, never leave me, you make everything better.

I love the way shadows move underneath you, and the way people strip away their layers when you're around.

Even in the morning hours, people are out walking, playing catch with their dogs, turning the pedals on their bikes to work, and smiling in your light.

Stay for a while, I love waking up to you.

changing like the seasons

2009-03-16T08:38:00.000-07:00

The sunshine poured over the city this weekend.

With the sidewalks free of the snow, and the wind more of a gentle breeze than a bitter chill, the city demanded attention.

After weeks of fighting the cold, going to bed early, and spending most nights out shooting our documentary, it was time to enjoy life a little.

The weekend was rich in good company, smoky ribs and cocktails with live soul music, antipasto and wine in little Italy, fresh goat cheese and home made crackers from the farmers market, licked off my chilled fingers on a picnic table outside of St.Lawrence market, hot walnut cakes from Korea town and a stroll through the cobble stone streets of the Distillery District.

It was everything my senses could have wished for. A celebration of life, and a tribute to the city I'll soon be leaving.

Meanwhile I try to sort out my life. Make plans for the future. Make a mental map of what I want to do and where I want to be.

In the next few months I will be working on taking big and little steps towards getting what I want out of life.

The first step is finishing off my final projects and getting that degree in my hands. I'll keep you posted with the rest.

I am also working at making some changes on my blog. What would you like to see more of? Would you be interested in a separate food blog? More recipes? Let me know!

the boy with the bright blue eyes

2009-03-02T21:45:00.001-08:00

When I was away in France I had a dream about my brother.

In my dream he was beaming, happy, and seemed young and alive in every way possible. My brother is a bright, creative, artistic, wonderful and loving man, and sometimes he seems let down by the world. He lives with his eyes and heart wide open, which can be hard on a day to day basis.

And when my brother is happy, he radiates. You want to be around him because his energy is so good it rubs off on everyone. My best memories of my brother involve cooking in the kitchen with lots of wine and garlic, flying down the streets in his beat up car in high school, music blaring, daring him to do or eat anything and watching in horror as he ensued.

While in France he sent three small gifts (we had agreed on none) to my mother, father and I. While I was diligent on the no gift rule, the gifts were so thoughtful, so perfect, that I had to love him more for it.

When I got back from France I spoke to my brother on the phone and he told me he had proposed to his long time girlfriend. His voice radiated.

I went down shortly to visit him in Port Hope, where my grandparents live as well, to mourn the loss of his girlfriend's father and congratulate them on the engagement.

When we walked into the funeral home where the wake was being held, my brother sat alone, in a sharp suit, his bright blue eyes looking around the room kindly, and he was radiating.

Later that night I came over with a bottle of wine and old photographs, drank too much, ate peanut butter out of the jar, and remembered how great it is to sit so closely with someone you know and love to that extent. When I told him about my dream, and how it seemed to be real, he agreed. He was happy, is happy, and deserves to be. He is doing amazing creative work daily, taking design courses, and marrying a woman he loves.

Today is his birthday and I want my brother to know that he radiates. That I love him. That he will always be an amazing brother, musician, artist, designer, magician and man to me.

He'll probably make fun of me for getting so cheesy on this one, but my words are honest.

I love you Mike, celebrate today and every one that follows.

final projects

2009-02-28T07:12:00.001-08:00

It wont be long until I graduate.

Four years of writing, reading, recording, filming, and learning the art of journalism are coming to a close.

As our final project we are putting together a documentary. Documentary journalism is an amazing way to tell stories and I have been dying to do this for years. And yet, as school comes to an end, I am so eager to get out of here and working that I need to remind myself to put everything I can into this project.

My group has decided to do a story on the subculture of ticket scalpers. It took me a while to be convinced on this subject, as naturally I wanted something food or culture related. But, as we dig into the underworld of men standing out stadiums selling tickets, there seems to be a story worth looking into.

The other night we went to investigate before the hockey game. The crowds were swarming in and the scalpers were well armed, "you want tickets? how much?" Knowing I only had $20 in my pocket I teased, "Anything for $10?" They thought I was crazy. We kept walking and feeling out the scene. We got talking to one scalper in a bright red jacket. After a little prodding, we got cheap tickets for $20 a piece. Then the man in charge showed up. The man in charge, name yet to be disclosed, seems to organize all the scalpers. He drives a lamborghini. "These lovely ladies deserve better seats. Come back in twenty minutes and we'll see what we can do."

We returned 20 minutes later with a cinnamon bun as a thank you. In return we were given gold seat tickets, valued around $200, for $20 each. This kind of deal is practically unheard of. Not a bad way to experience my first hockey game.

Another friend of mine is preparing to graduate from the photography program. I have helped her with a few projects, and will be modeling for her final shoot.

The theme is old hollywood and will involve some professional hair and make-up artists to take it to the next level. With a bit of magic, I may come out as a bit of a Marilyn in the end.

We spent yesterday doing test shots and practicing lighting. She is as unfocused as I am, ready to get out of here and into the work force, but as soon as a print turns out the way she wants her eyes light up.

We're almost done and we've got to give it all we've got.

Hard to believe we'll soon be out there, doing our best to use the skills we've acquired.

No matter what I end up doing it will be impossible to regret what I've learnt over the years. If nothing else, I've gained some great technical skills and have learnt how to deal with people better.

I've also made friends that I hope will last through my life, and will soon have a degree to my name.

For now, I've got to keep digging, tracking down ticket scalpers, and finishing off my last year with as much grace as possible. I want to leave this place feeling proud of myself.

After that, it's a whole new game.

flying home with lighter baggage

2009-02-23T19:10:00.001-08:00

I felt good walking into the Toronto airport, snow covering the city outside, a bright sine shining through the windows.

Every time I go away I feel like I come back with something. Travel, no matter how far, always manages to get me excited about life.

I just spent my reading week in Vancouver, exploring the beautiful West Coast, eating well, drinking well, and working as an intern on a food and lifestyle TV show.

From buttering hundreds of slices of bread, to shot listing, to grazing recipes and making grocery lists, even the small jobs were enough to get me excited. They had to do with food. More than anything I observed, made mental notes, and tried to figure our where I can fit in this industry.

The stay wasn't long enough. There were people I needed more time with. Someone special I had trouble saying goodbye to. The week was condensed and I felt I couldn't stretch myself out in all the ways I wanted to. Regardless, I'm glad I went, and I did come back with something. I am richer with experience and have a better sense of what I want to do.

My last night we made spicy crab cakes with mango salsa and brought them over to a friend's for an Oscar party. We clinked glasses, ate decadent finger food, and cheered and groaned over this year's winners. The show was well put together, at last, and I enjoyed the ceremony for the first time in years.

At the end of the night my emotions won me over, and I cried. I cried for my future, for my fears, and for my excitement of what's to come in every aspect of my life. Family friends embraced me, poured their love over me, and reminded me that I am young. I may be young, but I'm anxious to kick my life into gear in the right direction.

It was still dark when we drove to the airport in the morning, the city slowly waking up. But in Toronto the sun was shining, and I made my way to Mary's house to get a welcome home note. I am lucky to be welcomed by open arms wherever I go.

I flew to Vancouver with many questions in my head, and flew back with a few more answers. I will always be asking questions, and I don't want to rush the answers, but to continue to experience them, to learn, live, and remain curious until the day I die.

My suitcase was heavy when I flew in, but I left some things at home, figured a few things out at home, and came back to Toronto a little lighter.

making winter as de-licious as possible

2009-02-07T04:33:00.000-08:00

It sounds too good to be true, restaurant's you can't afford with three-course menus and dishes laced with French names.

Did you say mushroom veloute, duck rillete and potato souffle, all under $35? And then they get you, always with the creme brulee.

I have sat through many of these menus, but never without wary taste buds. Having lived and dated a chef who knew the ins and outs of Winterlicious and Summerlicious, it is only natural for me to be apprehensive.

It's not a coincidence most menus will feature items like couscous, pasta and cheap cuts of meat. Restaurants used to an expansive budget for food are forced to tighten their belts like the economy is crumbling and make your cheap piece of steak look as good as it can. And while most chefs can pull this off with a little creative flair, a lot of it is made in bulk to prepare for the masses. So if you're food doesn't taste fresh off the grill, it probably isn't.

Even the waiters I know cringe at the thought of it. Their usual dining crowd disappears as penny pinchers walk in the door, leaving behind smaller tips and smells of cheaper perfume.

The Star and torontoist wrote some helpful pieces on Winterlicious, with a few pointers on what's worth your winter budget.

On the bright side it's a great chance to check out some new restaurants, eat like the French with several courses and dine at prices you can afford. I have had Winterlicious meals not worth talking about, and ones that leave melt-in-your-mouth memories in the back of my mind.

My only problem is that if my meal is cheap, I usually overcompensate with wine or martinis, thus enhancing my meal but also killing the budget aspect. So this year I will be making delicious meals at home, enjoying the fruits of my labour, and a bottle of wine to my leisure.

walk softly

2009-02-06T20:17:00.001-08:00

I had an English teacher who asked the class "Do you ever wish you could go completely unnoticed?"

I was the only one to raise my hand. "Yeah, me too," she said.

The past month has been good for me. Coming back here and starting from scratch, moving in with a loving stranger, learning to spend less money, bundle up for cold weather, and walk around this city with a scarf wrapped around my face has put my heart and mind in the right place.

People I haven't seen in months keep coming back into my life, and have been so loving and heartwarming towards me that I feel I must have done something right in the past few years.

With my school life coming to an end I am nostalgic of my time here. It has been an adventure, a twist and turn of friendships, of partying hard, of catering events and retail jobs, of lugging around film equipment, radio equipment, or a notepad in my hand. And now my four years of journalism are coming to an end. One more major project, a few classes to get through, and then a hat and a robe, and that highly coveted degree. Wherever my life takes me I won't regret this time.

But it's not over yet, I'm still plotting my documentary, writing essays, and walking to class in all kinds of weather. I've gotten used to wearing double. Double pants, double socks, double sweatshirts, a toque and a hood.

I'm still getting back to myself, remembering how much I love to explore this city, how important it is to spend days walking and exploring markets and food stores. I feel at home in my favourite Korean grocery store, or buying bulk gourmet goods at St.Lawrence.

I'm enjoying this time. I'm trying to live mindfully, to listen to people when they talk to me, to be honest with myself and others, to taste my food, and to welcome the cold air outside on my face.

I have no urge to speak to loudly, to make a statement or be noticed by strangers.

I am walking softly and taking in all I can.

she comes undone

2009-01-23T04:26:00.000-08:00

So much has happened in the past few months that I have barely written a word.

My thoughts have been spinning as usual, my heart beating faster than ever, and yet every time I try to write how I feel I close up.

Not only this, but I have been moving from place to place, my life in a suitcase, using other peoples computers, and living off of the generosity of others.

After California came Vancouver, then came France, and now I am back in Toronto staying with a family friend. Having ended my relationship in October, on positive terms, I came back to Toronto feeling very vulnerable. I no longer had my three jobs, a key to my apartment, and a body to crawl into bed with. But life is generous to me, and I have been welcomed into the home of Mary, a family friend whose husband, Patrick Spence-Thomas passed away in the fall. Patrick owned a sound studio and was one of the most influential people in my father's life. His influence passed over into my life, including my time in French immersion. Patrick was a true fire cracker, the type of man who recited a poem from Alice in Wonderland after receiving bad news in the hospital, and had his love, Mary, and friends sing Monty Python's "Always look on the bright side of life" as he was wheeled in for an operation. Life has come full circle and now Mary is a part of my life. She has made me feel at home again in this city, and inspires me every day with her incredible love for Patrick and life.

Work has come more easily than expected as well. I have slid back into the odd hours of catering, and am happy to be back in the flow of parties and events. Even in a shirt, vest, tie and dress pants, I am at ease with all of the other workers, and always happy to be surrounded by people and food. The other morning I woke at four in the morning, got on the street car groggily, and went to work a six a.m. breakfast conference. The three hundred people I had to take care of at coat check had me awake in no time, and I left my shift feeling good about the day, with a purse full of leftover croissants and danishes for my classmates.

I was so afraid about coming back to this city, facing the cold weather and feeling my heart freeze over. But I'm warm under several layers, trudging through the snow in heavy snow boots and a ridiculous furry hat. And my heart is as hot as ever, warmed by old friends and my new roommate.

Currently I sit in my grandfather's office as he finishes his morning excercises, dancing around to oldies with small weights in his hands. "People that blog, are keeping a log..." he sings to me. I have come to Port Hope to visit my grandparents, but more importantly to see my brother. My loving, glowing, talented brother has proposed to his love and they are to get married in the spring. In this moment of joy, his love, Mackenzie, lost her father the other night. I had been planning on coming down but when I heard the news felt the need to be near to them. In times of celebration, and especially tragedy, it feels right to be close to family.

In the past few months I have seen many deaths, but also marriages, birthdays and celebrations. I have been quietly witnessing the cycles of life. With my time at university coming to an end, I am looking at the world with big eyes, trying to figure out what to do next. The answers will come. Life will come. If there's anything I've learnt it's that life happens in unexpected ways. All I can do is keep walking, working hard, and stay true to myself. As nervous as I am, my step feels stronger than ever, and I know I can keep moving forward.

looking back on 2008

2009-01-16T18:33:00.000-08:00

Last year began in the grand canyon with my brother

It continued in Toronto with some great shows put together by my broadcast class

I celebrated the opening of a cancer support facility by my aunt in Brampton

And then celebrated another success, the beginning of Hidden Lounge supper club

I faced one of my biggest fears and chopped all my hair off

Survived a week of 15 hour days and minimal sleep at the Rogers Tennis cup

Saw our business featured on the front page of the Life section in the Globe and Mail

Watched my wild cousin become a beautiful bride

And then, with love in the air, flew to California to see another wild, wonderful woman (and cousin) get married

Back in Vancouver I witnessed a moment that will be marked in history

I completed a successful internship at CTV, a week at CKNW radio, and finished with a great dinner at Vancouver's underground restaurant

After Vancouver, I flew to the South of France, and enjoyed a quiet month with my parents

I was reunited with my best friend...

Celebrated Christmas without presents but a lot of love

And brought in the new year with an old friend, in one of my favorite cities, and started the year off right

Back in Toronto, with a few more months to go before I get my degree, I have only good feelings about the year to come.

and so this is christmas

2008-12-25T14:54:00.000-08:00

Snowstorms are sweeping through Canada coast to coast, canceling flights, busses and closing highways.

I woke up today, miles away from the snow, to a misty, icy day, but no snow.

I woke up to my parents moving around the house, and joined them in opening a few small thoughtful gifts from my brother. We agreed to no gifts this year, but both of my brothers bended the rules with small gifts. Even though I was strong in my stance, these gestures were greatly appreciated.

Around noon, a young boy walked up our stairs and into the kitchen to spend time with me. He is the grandson of some close friends in the village, and the most charming 7-year-old I've ever met. After attempting to play French monopoly I made him pasta "With butter and cheese!" as a requested dish, that he slurped up happily. Afterwards I through on extra layers of clothing and we went to play boules with his family and my dad. We played in a clear spot beyond the mist until our fingers grew numb. A local man, Claude, awaited his usual team of older gentlemen to play, but only one other member showed up due to the cold weather.

It was a sweet day of simple activities, of hot tea and Christmas stollen, wrapped up with a feast at a friend's. We sat at a long table, every chair different from the other, a pot roast ourselves of German, British, Scottish, Canadian and our village's very own American poet. We feasted on roasted leg of lamb, chicken, squash, zucchini, potatoes, brussel sprouts, spiced beans, and even a proper English pudding lit with blue flames. Throughout the dinner, countless games of telephone tag were played around the table, words jumbled through languages and the childrens' interpretations. We drank local wine and finished the evening with a game show and play put on by the young boys.

This village will always feel like home to me, it is a part of my childhood, my adolescence, my adulthood, and the place I hope to grow old and grey. It was a perfect day, and as I said to my parents this morning "There isn't anywhere else in the world I'd rather be right now." I am fortunate to be here, in so many ways, and everything else that I have in my life. I can't ask for anything this year because I have already been given so much. All I have to give is gratitude, and it is too big to fit under the tree.

So thank you, merci, to my parents, my family, my friends, and anyone who has ever loved me. My world is enriched by you. I'm not always good at saying it, so I'll write it, I am fortunate to have everyone I do, and I appreciate every warm word, strong embrace, encouragement, and moment you have given me. Merry Christmas.

joyeux noel

2008-12-24T23:28:00.000-08:00

It is a small quiet Christmas this year, and the only thing I could wish for is that my two brothers were here as well.

No gifts this year, but plenty of love, and I am counting my blessings once more.

Merry Christmas, whatever it may mean to you, from the Young family in France.

whose woods these are i think i know

2008-12-20T07:36:00.000-08:00

She sits beside me and we pass a small glass of Armagnac back and forth.

Glowing under candle light her eyes are watering. She would like to be with her family for Christmas, and she is sad to leave me once more. I tell her that I missed her, painfully, all summer. She takes another sip, tops up our glass, and passes it back to me.

After a final evening together my friend Robyn left this morning. We left her and her boyfriend at the subway stop with giant back packs perched on their bodies. They spent a week with us in our small village, tasting local wines-or was it more than a taste?-and relaxing after months of continuous travel. They have been all around Europe, and now they continue their adventure with a stopover in Paris and London before spending three weeks in India.

I lived with Robyn for two years, until last year she graduated and left the city. Amidst those years I would look at her and say "you know we'll remember these years as some of the best." And they were. There are many more to come, but I'll never forget screaming over dead mice, dancing in her bedroom, our nightly stiff drinks, homemade meals, and conversations that could never be repeated to another soul.

She is someone I always want to have in my life. It was good to see her and her beau, one of the most gentle men I've ever come across, brought closer together by travel. They are an excellent pair who I have shared many romantic meals for three with, and it makes my heart sing to see them as they are. If you can spend every breath of every day with someone for three months while barely showering, doing laundry, and staying in the cheapest hotels you can find, then you've got something worth holding onto. The day his pants were dirty and he wore her yoga pants will endear me to him forever.

They are both people I am happy to share quiet days with. We enjoyed many good meals, shared poetry by candlelight, and when I was too sick to get out of bed Robyn cooked and entertained visitors while I slept.

Their adventure continues and I continue my own in this little village. I am enjoying the slow days, the solitude, the French language on my tongue, and the time to think as I prepare for a new year.

sweet morning light

2008-12-08T15:11:00.000-08:00

There is nothing I love more than to rise with the sun.

I like to be awake while everyone around me is asleep. This morning I watched the sun rise, then my mother and I walked to the village square. We passed the garbage man on his tractor, practically toothless but always smiling, and exchanged a "Bonjour".

In the town square we pass a young waiter from the local restaurant and bar. His smile lights up when he sees us, our faces familiar from many summers here, and we both triple over our French to explain we are here for Christmas, or as he says, the festivities.

We step into the small patisserie and the door chimes. The same plastic containers from my childhood, filled with candy, line the shelves by the counter. The familiar desserts sit under a glass: tarte aux pommes, tarte au citron, and a hearty walnut tart I once shared with a friend. We buy two pains au raisins, one of my favourite morning pastries, and head to the bar for coffee and tea.

In the bar, the owner barely lifts his head to say hello, serious as always. He asks us, "les filles", what we would like. I may have caught half a smile when he realized he brought me an empty tea cup and no tea.

I dig into my pain au raisin with appetite, tearing the soft pastry lined with raisins, candied by a sprinkle of sugar. And then we write. We write for twenty minutes straight and empty our minds onto the page. It feels good, we have both had trouble writing but when forced the words pour out like wine.

After our morning writing session I walk my favourite country road. Frost crawls up the grass but the horses are out, and the sun is shining strongly enough to warm my path.

i've been loving you too long

2008-12-07T12:49:00.000-08:00

I have spent a lot of my time here curled up in bed. There are few places in the world where I feel restful enough to do this, but this is one of them.

France is the first place I felt truly beautiful during my teenage years, the only place I could really let my hair down and live the way I'd always wanted to. It is the lover you can spend all Sunday in bed with, get recklessly drunk on wine with, indulge all of your senses with and never feel guilty for it.

And so I have been spending more time in bed than usual. I have been enjoying the sights and sounds of markets in towns nearby, the winter sunshine on my face, and the joie de vivre of those around me.

We spent yesterday in Albi, a small city of pink brick houses, a thick brown river that runs heartily under bridges, and a cathedral that stretches into the heavens. We window shopped, ate a slow lunch, and when the waiter asked me what I would like for dessert I responded "Une sieste," and he nodded his head, "Moi aussi." If there's anywhere where food and rest are truly appreciated, it's the South of France.

Today we visited a couple of the Christmas markets in small towns nearby. The first town had mostly pottery stands, and most of the vendors were busy enjoying a feast of meat, rice and wine in the middle of the square. The next town was more festive, with saucisson stands, spice stands, table covers, Christmas decorations and lovely loaves of pain d'epices.

This part of the world is a feast for the senses, and I'm elated to be back. Here in the country side the landscape is sensual, the buildings scream of history, and people's faces speak of lives well lived.

A home away from home, France is a love I have known for many years and will always feel comfortable with.

at a glance

2008-12-05T11:59:00.000-08:00

Today was market day in Gaillac.

The rain poured on and off, but we filled up on fruit, vegetables and duck for dinner. The man at the fruit stand shoved us a few extra kiwis since "They are filled with good vitamins, great for your muscles," before making it his duty to find me a husband.

"Tu n'est pas marrier?" With those eyes? Before I knew it he was calling the young cheese man over. "How about him?" The young man grinned and told him not to scare such a beautiful flower.

Only in France am I so aware of being a woman.

After filling up our market bag we made our way to the Cafe des Sports, a casual brasserie for lunch. For such a casual setting, every meal served around us was beautiful. Our lunch specials-white fish with muscles in a cream sauce-and salads went beyond our expectations. As we cleaned our plates we admired the steak frites, creme carmel and poached pear desserts being served around us.

Having regained my appetite after a day of feeling completely off kilter, I later found the energy to enjoy one of my favourite country walks. The cold wind nearly swept me off my feet, but I was invigorated by the winter weather.

I will always miss the warm months of summer, when the countryside is golden under the sun. Around this time of year everyone closes their shutters, the streets are empty and the restaurants bare. The usual festivities are nowhere to be found, but I find new comfort in warm winter meals and walks. There will be less drinking, dancing, and basking in the sun, but this is a good time to rest.

I always find myself in this town right between stages of my life. It is a good place to crawl up, think, enjoy life's pleasures and prepare for life's challenges. I have a lot awaiting me when I return to my own reality, so I will take advantage of these slow days down South.

from one home to another

2008-12-04T12:17:00.000-08:00

After several flights, a bus ride, and a long drive through the country, I have arrived at our family home in France. This house, which has transformed through the years I've known it, is more beautiful and comfortable than ever. As my parents are making it their permanent residence, we now have proper heating, showers and baths. Pure bliss.

I am elated to be here. My sleeping is off, but my bed is warm, the bath near my bedroom is luxurious and I look forward to every slow paced day that lies before me.

Most importantly, I am in great company, and happy to be in the company of my parents once more.

Tales from the South of France to come...

just as i was getting used to you

2008-12-02T09:30:00.000-08:00

Sitting at the long wooden table, he sips his wine from a small jar while we knock back gin cocktails in ours.

"Vancouver is like the pretty girlfriend with no personality," says my friend.

We have just finished six perfectly executed courses in a strangers apartment.

The dining room looks into the kitchen, a red light brightening the room in one corner. The walls around us are covered in art, carefully placed on the walls that lead to the small sitting room and the long hallway that crawls with more photos and paintings.

We are having dinner at 12b, Vancouver's underground restaurant, and I am elated to find someone running the same kind of business I am. I spend half the night hovered over Todd, the owner and chef, picking his brain and admiring his cooking style.

I met him the day before at CKNW radio where I booked us both in for an interview about the underground restaurant scene on a local talk show. From the second we shook hands, it was clear Todd was someone I would get along with. Over dinner it became evident that we share a similar taste in food, an attitude towards life, a skilled insomnia and love for strong coffee.

It's hard to say what I'll remember most about the evening. Maybe it will be the goat cheese and parsnip soup, graced by dots of balsamic reduction, that had most of us sliding our spoons carefully around our bowls to scoop up every last drop. Or maybe it will be the beef tenderloin so tender my best friend closed his eyes and groaned. I know I won't forget the company, the pleasure over the food-some said "This was the best meal I've ever tasted,"-or my nylons ripping and ending up in pieces around the table.

We left late in the night, basked in pleasure. Just the night before I had cooked a four-course meal for my aunt and her friends. I'm worried my taste buds are becoming a little too used to this. They felt the same way the next night over filet mignon with my brother, and last night over slow roasted ribs at my dinner table, so good I could have been in Memphis. I don't remember the last time I was able to enjoy food so much.

My entire stay in Vancouver has been an awakening of the senses. I have re-discovered a passion for life, food, work, conversation and the ability to live in the moment. Suddenly I have time for the things that matter most to me, and I've stopped making excuses so that I can push people and pleasure away.

Vancouver is more like a beautiful girlfriend with an honest personality. She may be a little dull, but she will wrap her arms around you for as long as you need her to and make everything better.

Even when you're hesitant to go and see her, you never want to leave her once you do.

Tonight I will let myself out of Vancouver's embrace and land sometime tomorrow night into the arms of France.

A whole new kind of love affair awaits me.

sweet darkness

2008-11-23T18:46:00.000-08:00

There is too much and too little to say.

I have just returned from a weekend in the mountains where I slept for the first time in weeks.

My stay in Vancouver is coming to an end, and I'm already looking back on my time here. As always, it will be hard to fly away from the great Pacific oceans and mountains that climb into the cloudy sky.

I will be leaving with rich memories, many sleepless nights, countless bottles of wine, new an old friendships sparking through rainy nights.

I have let go for the first time in months, and am happy to see this side of myself again.

My internship has come to an end, and finished off with many words of encouragement and sweet goodbyes. It was an experience that will stick to me for years. There were days when I shook from too many cups of coffee and lack of sleep, grew tired of my computer screen and felt uninspired. But there were days where I was trusted to do and learn, and test my feet out in the field. There were days where I laughed enough with the people around me that the hours went by seamlessly. I got to throw out story ideas, feed off of others, learn through practice and observation.

Starting tomorrow I begin my internship at a radio station for a week. I thrive off the thought of trying out a new environment, the fear that will come at first, and the lessons that will be learnt along the way.

And once this is done, I will say my goodbyes, pack my bags, and possibly shed a few tears as my plane makes it's way over the mountains and out of Vancouver. Luckily, France awaits, and this little adventure of my life continues.

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:
the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

- David Whyte

take the time for me

2008-11-10T05:36:00.000-08:00

I leave Vancouver in a few weeks time, before I go I'd like to:

-Read a good book
-Walk the sea wall more
-Go hiking if it ever stops raining
-Devote less time to drinking martinis, and more time remembering my weekends
-Go to Whistler, just to breathe the mountain air
-Go to Value Village, if only to reminisce on my favorite place to shop in highschool
-Bake biscotti
-Make soup
-Spend an entire night dancing like a fool, unaware of anyone else in the room
-Learn as much as I can in the newsroom
-Take a ferry somewhere, anywhere
-Take the time to hear my thoughts

beat down on this heart of mine

2008-11-08T05:53:00.000-08:00

With the final votes in America made history.

At home with a cold, I cough and sneeze victoriously, and hope that every articulate word out of the new president's mouth will be realized over the following years.

That maybe, the economy can start to crawl back up again. That maybe, small income families will be better off. That maybe, we can put an end to the war, and that pulling out won't lead to worse chaos. That maybe all of America can set prejudice aside and love a half black president and open their minds a little. The fact that he won by a long shot is a good start.

In my own life I am striving for change as well. Little by little I am starting to feel like the whimsical, poetic, strong-willed female I thought I was starting to lose.

I am proving to myself above anyone else what I'm capable of.

I have recently been thrown into a new world. A new city, the beautiful, rain drenched city of Vancouver, with mountains that climb into the clouds and an ocean that stretches on forever.

I have been thrown into a newsroom, with serious stories and people that have a great sense of humor and understanding of the world. I have learnt how empowering it is to know what's going on all around me. I have seen how confident I feel even in new situations, and that there may be a place in this industry for me.

Today the rain falls heavily, a grey Saturday morning, but my heart is optimistic as I deal with other changes.

the man behind the log

2008-11-07T14:47:00.001-08:00

A beautifully done Vancouver documentary.

vote

2008-11-04T18:26:00.000-08:00

A nice message from food.

vote for change

2008-11-04T11:35:00.001-08:00

a bientot mes amis

2008-11-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

My parents slipped away, somewhere in between the time I fell asleep on the sofa, moved to my bedroom, and awoke early this morning.

After a night of Chinese takeout, attempts at making a classic martini, rich conversation and wordy fortune cookies, I realized I'm really going to miss these two.

"You know you're the only one I tell these things to," I say to my mother, whispering her things I can barely say to my own shadow.

There was a note this morning, in perfect handwriting, 'Bye my loves, see you in France'. In around a month by brother and i will join those two crazy kids in the South of France for Christmas.

For now, this big empty house tells me memories from my childhood in every room. I'll miss their company, our meals, and my mother's persistence in driving me to work when she knows I can just as easily take the bus.

Part of me is looking forward to the silence, quiet moments with my thoughts, and being forced to be on my own for a while. I enjoy my own solitude and it's rare that I have it.

I'm looking forward to the rest of my stay in this incredible city, and relishing the new wave of inspiration that has flooded over me recently.

Life is far from perfect but it feels pretty good these days.

A bientot mes amis, I'll see you in France.

i think i felt a heartbeat

2008-10-28T21:50:00.001-07:00

“Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less, and stop watching ourselves live.”
Chamfort (French playwright, 1741-1794)

sex without love

2008-10-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

I can barely write in my own journals these days before shutting the cover and finding another distraction.

I don't know if I'm afraid of writing honestly or that it's just been so long I've forgotten how. I want to get back to that place where I can write freely, without being self-conscious or weary of who's reading.

It's been a month of endings, many endings and a few beginnings. I don't know where to begin in describing my emotions within all of them.

Last night I joined my mother and three other great writers in attending an intimate evening with Sharon Olds, and we listened to one of the most unguarded, sensualist, raw female poets whose writing has ever crossed my path.

Long strands of soft grey hair pouring around her face, Olds chanted about breasts, periods, a violent childhood and a husband who left her. Men and women in the crowd thanked her for breaking down the walls that stopped them from speaking about the body and everything else that is beautiful and taboo.

"If that's not inspiration for being honest," I said after the show, "then I don't know what is."

Sex Without Love

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
Gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth, whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio
vascular health--just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

-- Sharon Olds

call it off

2008-10-25T03:53:00.001-07:00

The Omnivore’s Hundred

2008-10-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

I've seen this list on a few blogs, and have also had it emailed to me. The Omnivore’s Hundred is a list of 100 things
that every good omnivore should have tried at least once in their life. The list includes fine food, strange food, everyday food and even some pretty bad food - but a good omnivore should really try it all.

Here are the rules:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp (Maybe? I eat a lot of fish I don't recognize...)
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar (Not together, but would be nice)
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk (the yoghurt)
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal (A long time ago...)
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine (Never. And I'm Canadian!
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

*I have crossed out nothing, I don't want to limit myself in the wild world of food. Although some may take a while for me to try, I have been an adventurous eater since I was a little girl...

growing young with you

2008-10-14T00:42:00.000-07:00

I was born three days after your birthday, and you always said I was the best birthday present you ever received.

Over the next few years you would see me learn to talk, scream, and speak in French. You would watch me grow cautiously into adolescence and hate the world for throwing puberty upon my body. And throughout all of these stages you would, and still do, make me feel like a gift.

It is hard to find someone that can look past all of your imperfections. You make me feel like I deserve the best and that I can do anything I please.

When I'm around you I realize I've taken some of my best personality traits away from you. I can only hope that at your age, I look, think and act as youthfully as you.

After Thanksgiving dinner a family friend talked to me about you. He said, "It's amazing how everyone ages differently. Like Rob, he does it so well, he looks at least 10 years younger than his age."

You do. But what else do you expect when you've lived your live healthfully, remaining calm in stressful situations, keeping your mind stimulated, and finding the humour in life every day?

Here's to another year of working hard, laughing harder, and beating the clock once again.

Cheers dad, I love you.

the long way home

2008-10-11T21:38:00.000-07:00

We left the warmth of California and drove into the dark grey sky of the Oregon.

The clouds grew heavier as the night grew darker, and heavy raindrops flew onto our windshield. When we finally saw a sign for a hotel, we pulled in and stayed the night. The hotel, more like a lodge, was luxurious, and we ate dinner in the dining room while snow fell from the sky. Somehow, we had gone from summer weather to winter weather in one day.

We hit the road again early the next morning and drove to Portland. We wandered the small city, and perused Powells bookstore, where I spent the entire time gasping over the food and cooking section, settling eventually on The Amateur Gourmet, a much anticipated read from one of my favorite bloggers.

As the magic hour took place (a film term my dad just taught me, when the sky goes from day to night and the lighting changes), we drove out of the charming city and back onto the highway. I have stared at more roads and road signs in the past few days than I care to for a long time. Eventually we stopped at a cheap motel on the side of the highway. Far from the luxury of the night before, it was time to cut corners and deal with the dirty smell and scratchy feel of motel sheets. Other than some rowdy boys upstairs, and some creeps in pickup trucks trying to talk to my mother up as she grabbed water from the car in the middle of the night, we slept just fine.

We woke early the next morning and packed our bags. I threw on my dress and stumbled to the breakfast room. The advertised Belgian Waffles I had anticipated were cups of wet batter sitting beside a cheap looking waffle maker. I settled for stale cereal and a white english muffin. My parents, wise things with patient appetites, waited for better food along the road.

After many more hours of driving we made our way into British Columbia, and I smiled to see the trees, mountains and ocean once more. This is where I'll be living, again, for the next month or so.

We had fun on the road, but sometimes the best part about travel is coming home.

leaving San Anselmo in one piece

2008-10-08T21:36:00.000-07:00

The streets of California are not made for walking.

Crossing the street this evening a car moved into me, and pushed me forward a couple of feet before stopping. Thank god it was moving slowly. I jumped out of the way, looked at the startled driver, and moved my way back to the sidewalk.

I am still perfectly intact, but amazed by how it feels to come so close to having your body and dreams snapped up in a moment. A few seconds, and a little more speed could have had me in a wheelchair.

Luckily, I am fine, and it made it safely to an authentic Mexican restaurant for spicy prawns, flour tortillas, rice and refried beans. California can always redeem itself with Mexican food. Near death experience? Give me some hot sauce, fresh corn tortilla chips and homemade salsa and all is forgotten. Promise.

Tomorrow we leave this sunshine state and head up into Oregon. I'll miss the sunshine, and the comfort of our friend Carol-an older belle for Carolina- and her cozy home, but am looking forward to new scenery, new tastes, and hopefully some safer sidewalks.

i'm leaving my heart in san fransisco

2008-10-07T07:13:00.000-07:00

I held my love one last time in the glare of the airport hotel bathroom. The light hurt his eyes, and I held him tight before saying goodbye. It will be over a month until he visits me in Vancouver.

I took two rocky plane rides to begin my latest adventure. Flying to Minneapolis, to San Fransisco, where I joined my brother and my parents to celebrate my cousin's wedding. From here I will drive to Vancouver with my parents, where I will do my internship at CTV before heading off to visit them in France. With all this travel lined up, I take a deep breath, and feel like myself again. The excitement of life and unexpected pleasures run through my body once more.

Our first destination, San Fransisco, has been a celebration. The wedding took place in a small town outside of the city, an old hippie community that has also turned into a gay community in the past 15 years. I've never been in a small town that felt so open minded.

We stayed in a small kitschy resort of small cottages, other family members in different themed ones across from us. Ours was something along the line of a wilderness mountain theme.

Our first night relatives poured into our cottage to say hello, drink in hand, and for a notoriously distant family we talked late into the night. We feasted on real, spicy, Mexican food, and I licked my fingers and praised California.

The next day my cousin, soul mate, and inspiration, was married. She married in the backyard of a friends house, with a Mexican day of the dead theme. An alter commemorated friends and family, gone but there in spirit. The dark skies cleared up, and they exchanged honest vows, danced to Johnny Cash, fed each other cupcakes, and enlightened all my ideas on how a marriage should take place.

Once again, we feasted on Mexican food. I licked my fingers and praised California once more. I made my first wedding speech, to the woman who has made it to every wedding whether she had money or a ride to get there.

The after party was at a gay bar on a leather fetish night. They are a pretty crazy couple after all. I took pride in introducing a group of young gay men to my parents: "...yeah, we go to gay leather nights together all the time."

We wished the couple all the best, and left back into the city the next day. We enjoyed the sights and sounds of San Fransisco, ate clam chowder and crab, tasted garlic ice cream at The Stinking Rose restaurant, and headed out to a friend's house where I write now.

I am hoping to find my writing again over the next few months. To find parts of myself I have forgotten. If there's anything I appreciate in life, it's a change of scenery and a new adventure.

Guiltless Gourmet

2008-09-29T12:14:00.001-07:00

This is a cooking video I put together to apply to the W Network expert search in the food and nutrition category. Not realizing it had to be under 2 minutes in length, I made a 20 minute video which I have been busy hacking down. I would love to add to this video but I can only refine it for now. Let me know what you think!

Local Wine

2008-09-27T21:02:00.000-07:00

Horrible intro and extro on this one. Don't know what made me decide to pause so long by the wine bottles and talk like a robot. Will work on that next time.

i thought happiness was only for fools

2008-09-22T07:10:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to describe the beauty of this weekend.

I spent Friday night yelling over cheap martinis to a fellow journalism student about our future careers. We laughed, screamed, made passes at our waiter and nearly lost our voices.

Saturday night my boyfriend and I drove out to the suburbs for my cousin's post-wedding party. There, I got to see my mother, who has just returned from France, and a lot of family I haven't seen in a while. This includes my cousin, the beautiful bride, in a stunning strapless dress, glowing beside the love of her life.

I let loose, drank a few too many apple martinis, and danced more than I have in a long time. My boyfriend charmed all the older women, found us many more clients for dinner parties, and reminded me just why I fell for him in the first place.

My mother came home with us and presented me with a bounty from France: my ultimate bread made by an older Scottish gentleman I love dearly, a giant chocolate bar (already gone), a giant lollipop from Duty Free, and a stunning cashmere scarf. Needless to say, she knows me well, and I'm very happy with all of it.

Sunday a friend from school came over and we spent the day filming a cooking video. We started off at Kensington Market, then shot the meal segment in my kitchen. The video is for a contest with the Women's Network, which I'll talk more about when the video is finished...

My mother took off early this morning, a familiar scene, but I will see her again in less than two weeks in California...

Life suddenly feels like an adventure again, and I can't help but feel incredibly happy.

With my aunt Stephanie at the party.

red-handed: killer clique

2008-09-20T08:51:00.000-07:00

Apparently a photo of me at 19 was inspiring to portray this:red-handed: killer clique

sensational spaghetti

2008-09-19T02:51:00.001-07:00

Clever little video...

i start reading books halfway through

2008-09-16T17:15:00.000-07:00

When people ask what I do, I usually pause. Then I try to explain. "I'm a full-time student, in my last year of studying broadcast journalism, I run a private dining company with a chef and do catering events with another company."

And then worse, they usually ask "What do you want to do eventually?" I pause again. The simplest answer is "Food journalism." But the most honest answer is: "Write a guide book, live in Japan, host a food related show, practice yoga in India, run a bed and breakfast, buy and sell property around the world, go to Africa, become a producer, publish a cook book, meet lots of great people, learn to ride a bike, and most importantly own a garden."

I try to keep my answers short and sweet, but lately I find it easier to be honest. The best part is that every time I open up to people they unravel before me. People I hardly know have started telling me about their childhoods, their insecurities, their sex lives, their fears...

"I don't usually tell anybody this..." they say, surprised by the words spilling out of their mouths.

As human beings we all have simple, basic needs: food, shelter, love and sex. But we aren't simple. We have complicated histories, love lives, families, thoughts and emotions.

"How are you?"
"I'm good."

Really?

"What do you want to do with your life?"
"I don't know."

You must have some ideas.

Being honest is difficult. I go through stages where I keep my emotions and opinions locked away inside of me. This continues until I eventually break open, ending up in hysterics, overwhelmed by how strongly I feel, my breath heavy, eyes wet with tears.

Every time I do it's incredibly painful, but when I'm done expressing myself I feel weightless.

I have cried more in the past few months than I have for a very long time. But right now, I feel as if I could fly.

How am I?

Excited about my future, nervous about which direction to take, and happy about where I am in life.

a breath of nostalgia

2008-09-04T18:44:00.000-07:00

I go outside and smoke half a cigarette. I inhale deeply, pace the sidewalk, then stub it out.

I don't smoke it for the nicotine, but for a taste of nostalgia. The familiar taste that haunted my nights in Paris. The taste that filled my mouth the first year of university, when I would escape my dorm room to walk the streets of this city, still unfamiliar, cigarette in hand. All I need is a taste.

The past few months have been an emotional roller coaster. I have been struggling to remember what makes me happy, and have been trying to get back to that place inside of myself where I feel good about who I am.

Today I spoke at lengths with three people who have entered my life recently. Three people who listen, share creative thoughts, and make me feel good about everything under my skin. Their voices are a warm embrace when I was starting to convince myself that I was completely alone in this city.

I look up at the sky and see clouds but no stars. An airplane in the distance. My mother is miles away, in a small town in France where the stars shine like diamonds. I ache to be with her, but feel her presence with me, her voice comforting me when I think I'm going to lose my mind. I know she is alone in the house, with similar thoughts as mine, up roaming at odd hours of the night like me. I know she yearns for my presence in the same I yearn for hers. If I close my eyes I can be there with her.

It's strange coming to a time in your life when you have the power to choose what to make of yourself. What to make of your one precious life. It is terrifying and liberating all at once. I want the world, I just need to map out my plan of action.

'Read widely of other experiences in thought and action- stretch to others even though it hurts and strains and would be more comfortable to snuggle back into the comforting cotton wool of blissful ignorance! Hurl yourself at goals above your head and bear the lacerations that come when you slip and make a fool of yourself.'- Sylvia Plath

brendan

2008-08-25T11:54:00.000-07:00

This picture alone says a lot about you. Dressed in black, sunglasses on, drinking champagne in the Grand Canyon on New Years morning. You give me far too many reasons to love you.

It's not only your style and your extravagance that I love. It's your motivation, your fearlessness, and your relentless determination to do things your way.

You inspire me to do better. To demand more of myself. To ask for the best because, hell, I deserve it.

Joyeuse Anniversaire mon frere, cheers to another successful year, I'm proud of you and I love you.

thinking about life and travel

2008-08-18T17:17:00.001-07:00

"I have homes everywhere, many of which I have not seen yet. That is perhaps why I am restless. I haven't seen all my homes." -John Steinbeck

i walk this city at night

2008-08-17T19:47:00.000-07:00

making headlines

2008-08-17T09:44:00.000-07:00

The sudden attention towards our business is a little overwhelming.

Last night we had a dinner party with a last minute cancellation and some other surprises, but that's a story I'll have to share with you another day.

From this point on I am expecting good and bad criticism to start heading our way. Something I am preparing myself to deal with.

A friend sent me this link yesterday however, and I am happy to see some support from my home city Vancouver.

the underground supper club

2008-08-13T07:39:00.000-07:00

Our business was featured in the Globe and Mail today!

Things are happening for this little supper club of ours. After all of the work we have put into this, it feels great to get some recognition.

A special thanks to Josh for going after this. We are so happy to see the story in print. You are welcome at our table anytime you like.

*The real inspiration for Hidden Lounge came from the Hidden Kitchen concept in Paris, not Sacramento.

away, but not too far away

2008-08-11T11:37:00.000-07:00

I am aching to take a big trip right now.

But instead I've taken a little one, because the following months are filled with travel, so now I must stay somewhat still.

Which is why I'm in Port Hope, an hour by train from Toronto, visiting my grandparents and my brother.

The days are slow, but force me to slow down, clear my head and reflect on the past couple of months and this crazy summer.

I wish my summer was a little more fun and sun filled, but it has been great in its own way. I have started a business with my beau, joined a catering company that feels like my extended family, left my retail job under excellent conditions, gone to Vancouver for a week, and have learnt a lot about life, love, and family. I've opened myself up several times, cried my heart out, and have spoken more honestly to people recently than I have in years.

Before coming to Port Hope I made an ever bolder move. I bought a bicycle. I never learned to ride a bicycle. The thought terrifies me. It is one of my greatest desires to bike around the city, but also one of my greatest fears. So my boyfriend and I walked to the pawn shop, where I spotted a bright pink bike and immediately bought it.

We spent an evening practicing down a hallway in our building, but I still can't stay up straight. This is going to take some serious work. But I will ride my bike. I will. And when I'm good enough, I may even get my bike a little basket. I tried to take it to Port Hope with me, but was told at the train station that I couldn't (10 minutes before my train...I ran around like a pigeon before discovering I could store it in the baggage department). So my lessons are on hold but will resume shortly.

In the meantime, I am going to antique fairs with my grandparents, spending time with my brother, organizing small things for the business, and gathering my thoughts.

***I regret to inform you that I do not have my camera, because I packed next to nothing so that I could manage carrying my bike on the bus and on the subway to the train station. Now I have no bike with me, no camera, no warm clothes or shoes other than flip flops. And it won't stop raining. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

pulling myself together again

2008-08-04T14:47:00.000-07:00

I am pulling myself together, bit by bit.

The last week I have been weighed down, as well as still recovering from the week previous.

And where do I begin in describing this week? A week spent every day, all day, catering to the needs of others. It was the best week and the worst week of my entire summer.

The event was every caterer's worst nightmare. Working in confined spaces, running off no sleep, understaffed, under extreme pressure, with a heavy VIP client base to please. Ladies and gentlemen, I, and a few exhausted others, survived the Rogers Tennis Cup.

For the week we hosted suites, wined and dined clients, slept under three hours a night, and returned the next day to do it all over again. We showed up in uniform, groggy eyed and smiling, turning to hugs for comfort, and would meet up between shifts in the pantry to snack on beautiful platters of food left untouched by guests. The food and the people kept my morale alive.

But it was crazy. People walked out. People got angry. A chef had a heart attack. A guest in the suite next to me did as well. We had the heaviest rainstorms of the year, putting many games on hold and upsetting many ticket holders.

And yet, what I'll remember most is the bad jokes, the pats on the back, the great clients that treated me like gold and even helped me clean when I begged them not to, and the bonds formed to keep us strong when we all felt like crawling up on the floor and sleeping, or crying, in the middle of the day.

Since the event has been over I've been in a strange mood. Very melancholic. I've realized that some time off work is very necessary, and will be spending a week at my grandparents. I've been sleeping in. Cuddling with my beau on the sofa every morning and easing slowly into the day.

I need this time so that I can pull myself together and move in full force again.

unpacking my suitcase

2008-07-20T05:49:00.000-07:00

When I left Vancouver, I left with a heavy heart. I didn’t want to leave the slow pace of the city, the sight of the ocean everyday, my mornings outside on the balcony with a cup of tea, or the warmth of my parents' company.

I did a lot of thinking over the week, and one of the reasons I was reluctant to leave was that I was not happy with my life in Toronto. I knew I had to make some changes.

So I came back, took some advice from a health practitioner and started taking some nutritional supplements and changing my eating habits to improve my sleep.

I cried my heart out to my boyfriend about my fears and doubts. I cried more than I have in years. When we were done talking, I had a bath, and continued to cry into the tub of water. Tears of angst and unhappiness poured into my bathwater that night, and then I let them go down the drain before I went to bed. The next morning I went into work puffy eyed, and that day I made another decision.

In the evening, my relationship with my boyfriend had re-harmonized into something even more beautiful. With everything out on the table we could be ourselves again. The weight of work and stress was no longer had precedence over our love for each other. That evening I also wrote my two-weeks resignation.

After working almost a year in retail, it was starting to make me miserable. I had known for a long time that I wanted to leave, but my love for my manager, who treats me like gold, had been holding me back. Yet the thought of spending another month of feeling dead in my skin as I try to sell dresses to strangers was too much, and I quit. I was honest, and had me quitting been a breakup, it was like being told: “I love you and want to marry you, but you have to do what’s best for you.” In other words, my manager would have loved to keep me but she understood my need to go.

The next few days I walked to work. I wore no make-up. I ate my lunch in the sunshine, and lay down on benches before starting my shifts.

And as I shed these layers I knew I had to do something about my hair. My long extensions had matted themselves together in the back, leaving me feeling far from the sexy vixen they once did. So I had them taken out. And along with the fake hair, a considerable amount of my real hair came out with the extensions that had knotted together. Normally losing this much hair would make me cry. I was calm. I knew I had two decisions: get them back in, or let my hair rest and chop it off. With a little coaxing from my boyfriend, I decided to chop it off. My life long fear of cutting my hair suddenly became a thrill.

Yesterday morning, I sat in my hairdresser’s chair with a large grin on my face and watched my hair fall to the floor. I loved every second of it. That day, I went to in audition and gave it my all. I felt unstoppable.

In the evening, I celebrated a coworker with a decadent meal and martinis. Afterwards we had an older man with an honest face read our fortunes by candlelight.

I am celebrating myself right now. I was starting to lose touch with who I am, but as I take control over my life I find I’m slipping back into my own skin. Suddenly Toronto doesn’t seem so bad after all. I just had to re-arrange myself to get comfortable again.

pictures from my past

2008-07-05T07:25:00.000-07:00

Rain falls onto the balcony outside and the sky is a light shade of grey. I am home.

I arrived in Vancouver a few days ago and have been taking it in one breath at a time.

I'm spending time with my parents and trying to plan out the rest of my life. A rough plan, but one that gives me some kind of direction.

I have been going through old photographs and journals, trying to make sense of my past as I move into the future.

It feels good to be here. My thoughts are becoming slightly more coherent, and the moments with my parents are priceless. Even the rain, for once in my life, feels soothing.

The slow pace of the West Coast, and the abundance of love I have here, is rejuvenating me one day at a time.

And some photos from the past...

i can still fly

2008-07-01T11:50:00.000-07:00

My suitcase lies open in our bedroom, half packed. My boyfriend lies on the sofa across from me sleeping. The apartment is quiet in a comforting way.

I feel a calm sense of excitement. Tonight, I'm flying home to Vancouver for a week to see my family and gather my thoughts.

After working too many days in a row, balancing a job of late nights catering, long days of selling clothes, pulling a tendon in my foot and continuing to work on my feet for long hours, and spending most of my free hours organizing our new business, it became very clear that if I didn't take some kind of a break my body might just give up on me.

And so I booked a trip to Vancouver. Where I can relax. Take in the warmth, smells and sounds of my mother and father, and to do my favorite thing in the world: get away.

I have travel on my mind constantly, but my savings and free time are only great enough for a small taste of it right now. I find freedom of mind by planning more adventures than most could dream of once I graduate. I'll prioritize when the time comes.

And so my suit case is half packed, the way I like it, leaving the last to be thrown in moments before I leave.

Just having it out of my closet again makes me feel more like myself again.

dwell in possibility

2008-06-26T16:22:00.000-07:00

Every time I dig myself into a hole because I don't know what I'm meant to do with my life, I open my journal and find this quote:

"Be patient towards all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves liked locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

- Ranier Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet

my girl

2008-06-15T08:46:00.000-07:00

I set down a heavy tray of wine glasses, slosh their fluids into a giant bin and then steal a piece of one of the untouched tarts set to the side. I moan over the creme brulee topping and buttery pastry surrounding it.

It's nearing 12:30 a.m. and I'm told the first bus going back to Toronto is leaving. But I'm still buzzing, and out in the crowd, The Temptations, with one original member have started to play. "You realize those are The Temptations right? The Temptations!" No one seems quite as excited as I am over one of the world's most popular Motown band singing and shimmying on stage.

I spent last night in a tent out in the fields in Niagara, Ontario's beautiful wine region, catering for an extravagant dinner and auction.

The tents were hot, the shift was long and we were understaffed, but the food was beautiful, the crowd was alive, everyone was donating to charity, and most importantly...The Temptations were there.

Well, maybe not most importantly. The donations to the Sick Kids charity were outstanding, and shivers ran down my spine when Jann Arden offered to donate 100 thousand dollars, and then watched as the rest of the room worked together to meet her offer. There was a lot of money, and a lot of love in the room that night.

I got home at 5 a.m. this morning, and as we prepare the apartment for a dinner party, I think of my father. My father, also a lover of Motown, good food, and someone who understands working long nights better than anyone.

As his only daughter, I have always felt like his girl. He has always shown me love in some way or another, and beams with pride with my every success. He doesn't spoil me or dote on me, but he loves me, and that's all I really want.

He has taught me to relax, enjoy life, but work hard for what I want.

Happy Father's Day Dad, I haven't forgot you, and I'll always be your girl.

tag, i'm it

2008-06-10T19:25:00.000-07:00

Thetiniest spark tagged me on this short, delicious food questionnaire.

Asking me to talk about food is like asking Gordon Ramsey to swear, or Anthony Bourdain to trash talk vegans. I'm more than pleased to do so.

So here are my answers, bonne appetit, and feel free to post your own in the comments section.

1. One thing I don't like: Potatoes. Did I mention I'm Irish? My relatives are practically ready to disown me on this one. But in general, I just don't like the texture of potatoes and they don't excite me as a food. It took Europe 210 years to appreciate potatoes after they arrived from South America, so maybe I'm not crazy on this one. I've had some good roasted potatoes and fries in my time, but at the end of the day, it's not a food I really love.

2. 3 of my favorite foods:
- Korean Bibimbap with fried tofu, rice, vegetables and spicy red pepper sauce
- Tuna shooters (Delicious nigri sushi topped with a special sauce and scallions from Honjin in Vancouver)
- Grilled salmon

3. My favorite recipe: A couscous recipe with mint, basil, cumin, rasins ans vegetables that I've perfected over the years. Only tastes better the next day.

4. My drink: Lychee martini made purely with lychee liqueur and vodka. I skip the juice because I like my martinis lethally strong.

5. The dish I wish I could cook: My mother's creme carmel. She says it's easy but it always looks severely complicated when she makes it. And she makes it perfectly, every time.

6. My best food memory: After a year of living in Northern Ireland and hating the food, I came to France for the summer. Suddenly my days were filled with delicious stinky cheeses and food that made me groan. One night my mother and I, both insomniacs, couldn't sleep and woke the same time in the middle of the night. We cracked open some pots of creme brulee from the grocery store, covered them in cane sugar and popped them under the broiler. It was the most heavenly midnight snack I've ever had. It was one of those great unexpected moments I could only share with my mother.

I tag Lacey, Eurobrat, and my mother on this one.

to paris and rome

2008-06-07T19:21:00.000-07:00

It almost feels like Europe.

As the summer sun sets over the city, I take the dog for a walk down a busy street. Cars drive by with Portuguese flags, honking and screaming. Portugal must be winning some soccer games, and I haven't seen this kind of hype over soccer since I was living in Paris.

Lately I seem to be discovering more and more just how Portuguese my new little neighborhood is. From the BBQ chicken restaurants with no menus and long line ups, to the sweet bakeries and scummy bars, this area is packed with Portuguese flair.

This evening I decide to venture out of my neighborhood. It's hot, it's Saturday night, and to be honest, I'm a little lonely. My life has been so crammed with work, from the store, to the catering events to the new business, that when I have free time I don't know who to call. "Remember me? I know I always refuse to go out...but now I want to!"

And so I wander. Happily. At the end of the day, I really do love my alone time. And on a night like tonight, there's nothing better than a long walk and a good daydream.

I walk with the dog all the way to Little Italy, passing bustling restaurants, packed patios and gorgeous Gelato shops. I admire beautiful couples sipping wine, deeply inhale the scent of freshly baked pizzas, and dodge people on the sidewalk with my little pup.

I feel like I could be in Europe. I wish I was in Europe. Lately my heart aches for foreign cities, new flavors and faces. I miss my mother. I miss train rides. I am so happy here, but I am also so consumed with staying busy and making money that I miss the feeling of truly living.

But tonight, I am alive. And as I travel through the city on a beautiful summer evening, I feel like myself again.

starting off in style

2008-06-02T05:21:00.000-07:00

It's exciting to see an idea come to life.

And Saturday night, after months of careful planning, preparation, bagel baking and guest list altering, it all came together.

The grand opening of our business filled our new apartment with people we love, food, music, and exotic martinis.

To be honest, I felt overwhelmed. There were so many people I wanted to speak to, and at the same time I wanted to make sure everything went smoothly at all times. In the end, I did my best to do both, all in some very high heels.

I feel good starting a business supported by so much love, started out of passion and creativity.

The last group of girls left our place around three in the morning. I was already in bed. First thing the next morning we started preparing more food for our next adventure: a tasting at my boyfriend's aunt's church that afternoon.

So we turned the grill back on, packed up our plates and sauces, and got back into the same groove as the night before.

At the church we explained our concept, invited people to our first dinner party- A Taste of Jamaica- and fed many hungry church goers. One young man went wide-eyed and crazy over our food. I overheard him several times "Oh my god! The mango, the mango really brings out the flavours in this one!" His other young friends rolled their eyes, and seemed a little less impressed with out combination of flavours.

My beau's joyful Jamaican aunt passed out flyers, blessed us all and wished us the best. The pastor had us hold hands and blessed us again. I'm not religious, but I took the blessings as a great sign of love and support, and felt reassured once more that we are starting off on the right foot.

Leaving the church under the summer sun, we laughed, "We can't go wrong now," I said, "we've got everyones support on this one."

someone's having a party

2008-05-19T16:44:00.000-07:00

The grand opening for Hidden Lounge is coming up, and my chef and I have been busy in the kitchen.

Check out our blog to see what we've been up to!

the day you set me free

2008-05-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

"I hope I haven't given you too much of my baggage," she says.

"You haven't given me any of your baggage, you've done the opposite, you've taught me the importance of freedom," I tell her.

I called my mother up last night to tell her how much I loved her, "I was going to write you something, but I had to say it..."

As soon as I began to speak I remembered why I usually write the way I feel. Tears fell from my eyes and my words got stuck in my throat.

Somehow, between awkward sobs, I told her how I felt. I told her about how working with women all day has given me even more respect for her. All day I listen to women put themselves down and complain about their bodies no matter how beautiful they are. While my mother complains occasionally about needing to go to the hairdresser, she is always glowing, growing more beautiful with age, and accepting herself as she is. She has taught me how to stay strong as a woman, to write in my journal, and let out all my anguish in writing and a hot bath.

I told her about how she taught me the beauty of adventure. About how I'd been thinking about the summer we drove to California in a van with no air conditioning, rode along the sand dunes, slept in RV camps and stopped every five minutes for water. My mother has been taking me on adventures with her since I could walk, and I've learnt that all it takes is an open mind and a good budget to make it happen.

She taught me to trust her instinct as a young girl, and was always very careful with me. If she wasn't comfortable with letting me go somewhere, she wouldn't let me go. But she would explain why, until resentfully, I understood. One summer in France she started to let me drink wine, go out late at night and do what I wanted. Nothing was said, but I knew she had let me go. She saw that I had become a woman, and knew I could trust my own instinct.

Now I know that I can go anywhere in this world, in this life, and I'll always have her love. She has set down the path, but has made it clear that where I choose to go is my decision.

Happy Mother's Day Maman.

luck of the irish

2008-05-04T20:07:00.000-07:00

This is the way Sundays should be.

I sit on a lounge chair and the sun pours onto my leg from the window outside. I turn a page of my book. I think that maybe I should get outside, get some exercise, or do something productive. A voice inside of me says: “No, just be.”

I look across at my mother, who has stopped reading her book on the sofa across from me and started napping.

It has been a peaceful weekend, full of family, food, sleep, laughter, and moments to “just be”.

I took the train from Toronto down to Port Hope Friday night, to see my grandparents, my brother, and my mother who’s on her way back to Vancouver from France.

My brother, mother and I make a good team. We're all dreamers with a dirty sense of humor and a sense of adventure. Together we make fun of each other constantly, laugh like fools, and act more like close friends than family.

Last night after a rich turkey dinner we walked down to the corner store to stretch our legs. My mother suggested we buy lottery tickets, and we headed home with a ticket each. As I was dancing down the street and singing Mariah Carey I found a 10$ bill, and started feeling lucky. Back at my grandparents place we scratched, and my mother won enough to buy us more tickets. We walked back down to the corner store (“It’s us again!”) and headed home with more hopeful loot. We scratched, lost for the most part, and headed back with one winning ticket and my lucky 10$. This time, we all lost, but were far from let down. My grandmother shook her head, “You guys are crazy.” If I had a penny for all the times my grandparents called me crazy, I wouldn’t need lottery tickets to be rich.

My brother came back tonight for a re-vamped turkey dinner. Using the turkey leftovers, I stewed the meat into a rich turkey cacciatore, and we feasted once more. I love cooking dishes like this: heavy in garlic, Mediterranean vegetables and wine. “It’s not horrible,” my brother said, digging in for seconds. “When are you moving in so you can cook and clean for us all the time?” Grinned my grandfather across the table.

After dinner I asked my grandmother for her Irish soda bread recipe. With no recipe in hand, she took her strong Northern Irish hands and dumped flour into two large bowls, stirred in buttermilk, and made sure I didn’t miss a beat or make any bad measurements in her famous bread.

As I write, the smell of the freshly baked bread, one whole wheat, one sweet with dried fruits, tempt me to go into the kitchen to steal a piece before crawling into bed with my mother, or heading back to my book. Life is good here.

Maybe I didn’t win the lottery this weekend, but I feel too damn lucky to care.

when ideas become realities

2008-04-16T18:04:00.000-07:00

It wasn't long ago that we were sitting in a restaurant having breakfast and brainstorming.

My boyfriend was uninspired by work, and I was thinking about food as usual. He wanted to open up a lounge, but many things were holding him back. We started talking about Hidden Kitchen, a company run by a couple in Paris that serve private dinner parties in their apartment. Inspired by the creative couple, we came up with Hidden Lounge.

With hidden lounge we could serve private dinners, cocktail parties, and have people over to enjoy good company and gourmet food in a comfortable setting.

We could bring together artists, support each other in our work, and have another source of inspiration in our lives.

So far the project is positive for everyone involved. His friends are taking care of business matters and are thrilled of what can come of it. My brother has designed us a beautiful website. My love is finding his passion in cooking again, and I am buzzing with all the creativity going on around me.

Yesterday I took photos for our site, and with the visuals in place we are setting the table for this idea that is turning into a banquet of great things.

ends and beginnings

2008-04-14T08:16:00.000-07:00

So much is going on, and I don't dare write a long blog post because I really should be studying for my final exams, but I thought a quick update post was in order.

The love of my life, my mother, stopped by for a quick two day visit en route to France. We went to the grand opening of my aunt's cancer wellness centre in Brampton, danced, clinked glasses, attended one of my lectures together, stopped by my work, ate decadently, and embraced as much as possible in her short stay. I cried in her lap out of stress, sadness and joy, and felt a pang of emptiness when she walked out the door.

While she was here my hairdresser worked her magic and gave me the hair of my dreams. I am a walking advertisement for her extensions, which have made my hair longer and fuller than it's ever been. The only problem is, it's hard to advertise for her because they're so natural looking. Most people just think my hair grew rather quickly. If you live in the GTA and are looking to get extensions, I'll send you to my wonder woman and get you a discount as well.

On a sad note, my broadcast class put on our last show together. We made a huge tribute to our teacher, the nicest man in the world, and finished off with a great show. I was anchor with one of my classmates, and had fun mixing serious news with a news parody.

Other than that, I'm working a lot, studying, moving into the new place, walking the dog, discovering the Dollarama next door to us, and spending a little more time with this guy.

That's all for now, the books are calling me...

Let's Spend The Day Together

2008-04-01T09:46:00.001-07:00

I recently did an interview for my broadcast class with electronic artist Andrew Moore. He throws together great compilations using music and everyday sounds to make some amazing mixes. Watch this video to find out how you can help him out on his latest project...

the journey

2008-03-24T13:04:00.000-07:00

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

-Mary Oliver
(Dream Work)

When I was around four years old my mother packed up her life and her three small children and moved to France for a year. Most women in her place would find this idea impossible, whishful, crazy even. But my mother felt that it would be crazier to stay. She needed a change, so rather than bitch and moan, she made things happen.

This is one of the many reasons I love my mother. She is a risk taker. Today she turns 59, and she's still braver than ever. Currently the house is on the market and she's planning on moving to France for good. I couldn't be happier, or more impressed with both of my parents.

On the side my mother is designing websites, planning a writing workshop, helping her sister deal with the legalities of her divorce and helping me with school essays. Needless to say, she's keeping busy. But this is the thing about her, she's always keeping busy. Her mind is always moving, causing her to sleep little, and take on countless projects. But even after a sleepless night, she does everything perfectly, paying attention to the smallest details.

Someone recently asked me what my mother was like. "She's beautiful," I said "Crazy, bohemian, she loves a good burger, she's petite, fun, better dressed than me..." The more I described her the more I remembered how much I love her. All the little things about her, from the way she loves sensual finger foods, or bubble baths, or a glass of wine at five o'clock and a good book. I love the way she wakes up early to write, or sits in cafes with a notebook, and goes to get coffee and a muffin but never finishes her muffin because she's too distracted in thought.

She's also intelligent. Although she strays from news and politics like me, my mother has read more books than anyone I know. She has a beautiful vocabulary and a strong opinion. I have seen her make men twice her size feel uncomfortable with her wit.

And she's not afraid of anything. She'll talk about sex at the dinner table, travel through foreign countries alone, make friends with strangers and dance on restaurant tables.

When I'm with my mother I don't feel like I'm with my mother. I'm with my best friend. I can be myself. We have fun, we laugh, drink, dance, write together, talk about anything and everything and bask in each others silence.

To say she inspires me would be an understatement. She is the most beautiful, sensual, honest woman I know and I can't imagine my life without her presence. I honestly think the world would stop turning.

So cheers, to the sexiest, craziest, most beautiful 59-year-old I know. Life is a journey, and she inspires me to live it properly.