Monday 4 November 2013

Pizza Diaries



Hat Print by the ever-wonderful Rifle Paper Co.

Last night brought the first snowfall of the year. Though I have been reserving a certain amount of dread for the onset of winter, instead this morning finds me humming happily away in my burrow. It does help that I have the day off today (my days off from the bakery/pizzeria are Sunday and Monday) and ahead...two bonus days owing to the delivery of a new proofer and some other equipment for the bakery that will shut down our production temporarily.

Though my first thought regarding the days off was worry about the loss of wages - after feeling run off my feet for the last two weeks, I am am thankful for the chance to catch up on wedding planning and job applications. The way the government seems to move, if I want to get a job by next year, I should apply now. Seriously. But. I am feeling much more confident as the pizza lady and finished our Saturday supper rush with a bang as I did two pizzas at once in the oven. I was triumphant! 

At Christies Il Secondo, we have a wood fired pizza oven, with the fire and pizzas in the same oven space. So if the right amount of flame isn't in there, the dough won't blister or puff properly. However, if the bottom is too hot, but bottom of the pizza cooks faster than the top and really, very few people crave blackened (ok, burnt) pizza crust. Since we hand turn (using a long tool called a peel) and maneuver each pizza for the 60 seconds or so that they are in the oven, doing two at once can be tricky. Thus, rocking out my first two solid pizzas at once was a great way to end the week.

This past week has been about small victories. Or really, a large one in a way. The last few years I have struggled with being active. I have been more often found in front of my computer, on my bed or couch with a book or Grey's Anatomy (or other myriad shows and movies). As I have continued my love affair with cooking, I have increased the amount that I eat (and often, richness of the foods I am eating, aka Mastering the Art of French Cooking). As I read Julia Child's letters and memoirs and she describes feeling "bilious",  I have given more than one Amen, Sister! This combination of overeating and little activity has led to extra weight and feeling like an unhealthy blob. Undoubtedly, ridiculous societal expectations have been playing into my negative mental image of myself and I do not want give them any credence. With that said, feeling stuffed and like I need to lay down after most meals is excessive. So, with help of Tracy Anderson workout DVD's and following her meal plans/diet, I am 8 days in and feeling really good.* Which deserves at least one fist pump. Maybe two. So chalk up another victory. 

I'm feeling good. And cozy inside, with bright light reflecting off the snow coming in.

Until next time,
Elizabeth

*Note: the first 5 days were hellish and I was grumpy and hating it. 

Wednesday 16 October 2013

To Be



This is a time of in betweens. In between school and work, student and employee. In between engaged and married, girlfriend and wife.

It is lovely being engaged, but most times it feels normal, even humdrum. Calling caterers, sending countless email inquiries, designing invitations...shifting, kerning, weighing. This or that. And then come moments of magic. Picking up a nondescript cardboard box from UPS and carrying it home. Carefully opening it to reveal a white garment bag inside, slipping out of my everyday clothes and into my wedding dress. A frisson of wonder ripples through me as I look in the mirror, half my mind on what I see and the other half imagining turning the corner at the back of the cathedral and seeing Tim waiting the end of that long aisle. I will be wearing this dress on that day.

And until then, I am a to-be wife. To-be sister. And hopefully, to-be employed.

Until then - I will plan, apply and enjoy the last of the fall days.

Pictured above: Ideal Bookshelf #230 (Writing) by Jane Mount. 

---

P.S. How To make Creme Fraiche

1 cup (240 mL) whipping cream
1/4 cup (60 mL) buttermilk

Stir together the cream and buttermilk. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature for 24 hrs. Unwrap stir and refrigerate. Will keep up to one week.


Thursday 3 October 2013

The Lucky One

Hello.

I am still here, after a long absence. From the woods to the prairies and back again.

These days, I spend my days at home. Jobless and searching for gainful employment. It is mostly nice. Nice to have time to cook and make new friends, drinking coffee in the sun. Walking along the river before winter comes. Wedding planning at a relaxed pace. Some days I feel very blah. Discouraged at the lack of response or rejections. But, mostly I know that something will come along.

Mail from Tiff & Gareth (the print of you beauties is up on fridge already), Tessa (loved the typewritten reply) and Meg (I am taking it over for Tim to read tonight, loved it!) came today. Tess also typed the following on the bottom of her letter:
"It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things." -Donald Miller

I, of course, burst into tears. I can not, even now, explain exactly why, but I think the simplest answer it that it is true. It struck a deep chord and when that happens, I invariably cry. Heck, I cry at the pluck of string. Anyway, I am thankful for the mail today from three women I love dearly. I am also thankful for all the encouragement from everyone here in Saskatoon when I feel discouraged, they make those blah days so much better.

This song has been on repeat today. Have you heard it before? I don't know where I have been, but I think I will have to acquire this album. "Youth", by the band Daughter.

Talk soon,
Elizabeth

Friday 19 July 2013

The End is Near

15 July

It has been raining since I got to our new campsite yesterday, around 5. This is the kind of weather that makes me want to book into a hotel until the sun comes out again. I rely on the cooks to let me lurk in a corner of the kitchen, soaking up the warmth of their stovetops and ovens. Last year, I would have been the cook, plenty warm while prepping and cooking. Today, I want to make soup. Today, I want to sink into a bubble bath that has steamed up all the mirrors. Today I wish for my overheated apartment. 

The season has gone by fairly quickly, though as always it seems a long time since we left home for the season. Another world, another life, that waits for us to come back to it after our summer sojourn. Can you believe that there is 4 shifts (or so) in two weeks (or so) until the season is done? I barely can. Though, I am trying not to to think about it. Anticipating the end of season too soon is a rookie mistake. 


I am planning some fun events to keep people's spirits up in this last stretch - a beer tasting followed by a talent show, perhaps planter games and of course STEAK NIGHT. I'll dig a long pit to fill with coals and we'll lay the oven racks over them to make one long grill. Steaks will be cooks to each person's taste - red and dripping or fully done. Montreal steak spice will shower and the beer will flow.







18 July

In the morning, the drive out on the Swale (a logging road) is especially beautiful. The light filters through the dust, turning it all to gold. Above, the foothills stand looking nearly as majestic as those they foreshadow. 

19 July

The first impression this camp made on me has been turned on its head. Though the mornings (6am wake) are chilly - by 9 am sunlight has summited the trees to reach the camp. It is then that I will make my way to my office in the far back corner, when I can see the sunlight glowing yellow on the tent. The days are passing slowly and quickly. It is hard not to anticipate the end (rookie move though it may be) and the relaxation and friend and family time that lays beyond our last few days of work back in PG. Soon enough. We are still here. 

Tuesday 18 June 2013

Mosquito coils and G&T.

The smell of mosquito coils always transports me to our cabin at Jan Lake in northern Saskatchewan. As the years pass, I feel more and more sure that it will be a haven and getaway I will appreciate all my life.


Though transported by smell, I am physically in northern BC – I wonder what the long/lat is? Could I fly straight across two provinces to our cabin? I would sit on the deck - screened in to keep out the mosquitos. There are other things out here that remind me of our log cabin – the wooden plaques in village stores that read “our provincial bird” with a picture of an enormous mosquito; stores with laundry in the back and an assortment of cheap and random  goods – minnows, plastic shovels and buckets, balloons, fishing gear and crackers and canned beans in the front. If you're lucky, there might even be ice cream. 
Not so long ago, I was not even in the bush of northern BC. I was in the Fraser Valley/Vancouver for Tiff and Gareth's wedding. It was beautiful. I am eagerly awaiting Sharalee's pictures so I can relive it via photos - but it is not so long gone that I can't remember it all. The warmth and relaxation found at Dave and Debbie's and amongst my best girlfriends. The comfort of the familiar and missed. Days full of laughter and toasts and meeting new beau's. Days with ocean  in front of us and Abbotsford behind us. A day of celebration and beauty and only the good tears. 
G and T - it was a honor. It was a beautiful day(s) and I am so glad I could be there to be a part of it it all (and meet Maureen and Richard, seriously they are the best!) I hope you guys are settling into your new home. Love you both. 

Sophie was there.
B Freemans was there.


Tiff was definitely there. 
The rehearsal dinner was gorg. (at the Vancouver Yacht Club)


B Maids (minus me). We happy.
They (G&T) were pretty happy too.
I am squinting pretty hard in this one, but I still like it.
Just some rapping during the reception. 
Look at these two rockstars. Beauts.



Wednesday 5 June 2013

Already June


Every fluctuation in the weather is noticed out here; every minute of light added or taken away observed. This year began with heat - shorts and tank tops required for the first few days - a stark contrast to the snow that greeted everyone as we emerged from tents and trailers on the first day of the season last year. As a result, the trees budded weeks before they usually do. The last two years I remember the moment, around 4am, while walking down a path through the trees, that I saw the first buds and leaves appear. The heralds of spring. This year they came before I could await their arrival.

Birds chirp at all times of day here. There is one bird I especially notice in the evening, its ribbon of sound cutting through the dusk. It reminds me of where we are. We are in no city or town. No glow of lights creates a halo above us, just the hum of generators running on gasoline. And when the generators are turned off for the night - peace, the blessed quiet. The absence of sound is a lullaby all its own. This time is my favorite time of day out here. The camp full, everyone is sleeping or falling asleep after a day well spent. This happens between 9 and 9 30pm. By 10 camp is quiet.

The sky out here is big. Big sky is where I feel most at home - either fringed by forest, or prairie. I suppose that's why I feel so at home in front of the ocean, because of the big sky holding court above it.

It already June, my beautiful Mother's birthday has passes and G&T's big day is later this week. The summer seems to be passing quickly this year. I have settled into my new role - camp paperwork hound, data entry person, safety coordinator. I like it. It is a much calmer existence than cooking. Though ultimate calm continues to elude me, I appreciate the concreteness of my job this year. The steady checking off of to do's on my list.



'Til next time,
Elizabeth

Tuesday 23 April 2013

O ye.

Today, I made myself a reminiscent breakfast. Homemade hashbrowns with butter, onion, celery, paprika, oregano and basil. Lightly fried eggs, runny, with bright yellow yolks spilling into the potatoes once freed. Mayo on the side. This is a fairly time intensive breakfast, with potatoes being cut and boiled before they hit the hot pan and their vegetable accompaniment, but the time it takes is part of the luxury of this particular morning meal.

As I cut and cooked in my own kitchen, CBC on in the background, I thought about all the times I made this very breakfast in the kitchen at Atangard. Snippets of conversation and the sounds - footsteps on hardwood halls, doors opening and closing, yelled greetings and goodbyes and so much laughter - come back to me easily. But, more than that, the faces of all those breakfasts comes back. Mostly, I remember the smiles, all bathed in that yellow, windowless light, reflected off Ikea cupboards. They almost seem saintly, or at the very least, beautiful portraits in motion. Though I do not exclude myself from feelings of frustration in that same kitchen, I remember the warmth so much more; the conversations, encouragement and nourishment that I consistently found there. Time must be working its magic, because I can think about it now without feeling very sad and with more more thankfulness and joy than longing.

Into the very kitchen.

Marisa and Lisa, in "that atrium".

Tiff, Beth and Soph.



We leave for planting on Saturday. I am excited and eager for the season to begin, to see familiar faces and meet new ones. To help Tim. To learn a new job and role. To have energy for encouragement and cheer, which I struggle to find when being head cook. I am excited for it all.



Until next time,
Elizabeth

Sunday 7 April 2013

A Visit.

I flew back to Abbotsford earlier this month to conduct interviews for my research project. But, more importantly I got to hang with all the reasons it was so hard to leave the lower mainland. The combination of school and friend time made for a packed six days - but they were so lovely. It was so nice to sit with people, face to face or side by side. Talking on the phone is necessary and can be great when conducting long distance friendships, but there is nothing like bear hug/tight squeezes and eye contact.

Here are some pictures from my trip to the West Coast.




    


The ocean is still a major attraction for me, having grown up far away from one. A few of us stole away for a restful White Rock interlude the day before I came back to SK. It was a beautiful day. We walked the "boardwalk", had our first patio sesh of the season, soaked up some sun and (I) collected some rocks - indulging an impulse from childhood.






In addition to coming back to a familiar place, Atangard, I got to see a new place. A to-be familiar place. Tessa's house (a couple glimpses below)!




Tuesday 19 March 2013

Found.

St. Partrick's Day has come and gone, and still the snow remains. It snowed all weekend here. I am getting a hearty welcome back, a scolding for leaving prairie soil for greener and rainier pastures for so long (please don't tell everyone that this extra long winter may be my fault). I do have two howevers though:

1. Winter is cold and icy and annoying (especially for those who have to shovel), but it is also beautiful.
2. I fly back Abbotsford today for six days. Not as much to the warmth of sunny skies, but to the beaming faces I miss so much.

As evidence, of 1. I offer the pictures below. The first two are from my walks to and from school. Sunny days are my favorite, and when clear skies reign, I take the most pictures. However, lest those from BC get too jealous, we do have grey/snowy days too.

Heading over the university bridge.

My street.

This next set is form Kinsmen Park. It is at the end of my street and I finally trekked across it to roost at my favorite coffee spot here, Museo coffee at the Mendel Art Gallery. I was delighted to find these metal sculptures all over! Tug-of-warring, bridging, hanging out. Kids/people in the park. In the last two pictures, not the sparkle factor in the snow. That day was so bright and the snow so fresh that I thought I was looking at Edward Cullen caught in the sunshine (yes, that is a Twilight reference. If you don't get it, you are are getting your comeuppance for being too cool to partake in the vampire, werewolf, over-dramatic, shirtless saga that it is). Cross-country paths are all over the park and while I was taking pictures, one speedy skier passed me twice.





This stencilled graffiti is for everyone to enjoy, but especially you, Meg Kroeker. When I spotted these at the end of my alley a month and half ago I thought of you immediately. Stencilled and weathered men with stories! Fishermen or steel workers, or farmers that have worked the same land for 40 years. Or maybe they live around here, making these streets their beds, immortalized on metal. 


Ed.
Rocky.

Have a lovely week everyone,
Elizabeth

Saturday 2 March 2013

Closer to Home.

Every week, and consequently every month, that passes, I feel more at home here in Saskatoon. Perhaps one of the things that makes "home" so precious is that it takes time to build (and feel) it. When you do possess that heart warming thing called home, it is never more delicious than when you return to it after some spending time away. This did not quite happen when we returned from Calgary, but I was more than content to return to my burrow, my bed. My quiet home.

The quiet that comes with living alone is something I am becoming comfortable with. At first (and still sometimes) I have podcasts on constantly to fill the air with voices. As I cook, putter and do dishes I feel like I am a part of their conversations. Thank goodness for Jian Ghomeshi (Q), am I right? Honorable mentions to Ira Glass (This American Life), and Stephen Levitt and Stephen Dubner (Freakonomics).

My parents gift of (their) old couches made my place feel much more like a home. Lounging is a lovely thing to be able to do at home and this is considerably harder to do sans furniture. 

We had a wonderful time in Calgary, although in a sense it was bittersweet. It brought home the fact that my (living at) Atangard era is truly over. To see Beth and Mark's home in Calgary, unmistakably theirs, so far from Abbotsford was strange and exciting. It is exciting that we are making our way out into the world, pursuing careers and leaving home.

It sounds like we are leaving home for the first time. But Atangard really did become a second home, a second family to me. Since I am someone who gets VERY attached, I will mourn it just a little bit, even as I am thrilled for the marriages and house making and buying and all of those incredible stages we are entering into. La vie! It is always happening. I think it is possible to hold fast to things (friends, meaningful experiences/lessons) and still set them free as well. And that, my dear friends, is what I will try my very best to do. 

Here are a few pictures from Calgary.

Beth took us to a really cool spice store. I was in heaven.

Beth and Mark's kitchen.

Beth and Mark's windowsill.

Classic Beth. Cardigan ad stripes.

Friends.

Tuesday 5 February 2013

Delicious Days.

Yesterday was one of those delicious days. The definition of such a day being, balmy temperatures in the midst of a prairie winter. I explored Saskatoon with my hood down, face uncovered, and sweating in my down jacket. No mitts! It was wonderful. It was also really nice to explore a couple areas of the city on foot - it is impossible to really get to know a city in a car.

There are trees here, full of red berries all winter long, which bring me a little hum of joy every time I walk by or under one. All the other trees may be bare and dry, but these are there, full of fruit, red against the white - a gentle but stubborn FU to winter.



Besides the respite from the cold, thus far in the semester, I am much less busy than the fall's mad pace. Enjoying time with Tim, and to myself, has been lovely. Nights of Scrabble, crib and madeleines. Nights of movies out and in. The Saskatoon Farmer's Market on Saturdays and visits to winter festivals with ice sculptures. I have had time to enjoy cooking again - for me, the joy is found in the process more than the result. For cooking, unlike just about everything else, I have nearly infinite patience. there has also been time with family and the beginning of new friendships. Delicious days.

I finally went to Collective Coffee (great space, solid coffee) and found out about this really cool co-work space/community/organization called the TwoTwenty, which I am determined to get involved in somehow. In this new city - there is still so much I don't know and I am still finding my place in it.

P.S. To my B.C. friends and especially Atangardians, I miss you everyday. I love you guys!

Tuesday 29 January 2013

The Cold.

The whistle of the kettle. The hum of my AeroGarden. Footsteps in the apartment above and the scurrying of their small dog for a treat or some indoor exercise on these cold days. These are sounds of my house. My little burrow, half in the ground, a basement apartment with windows in each room to let the light in.

It is much colder here. Nearly everyone who hears I've recently moved from BC winces and asks how I'm adjusting. This question never phases me and I answer that it's fine, I grew up here and so it really hasn't been a shock. The thing is, the cold is easiest thing to adjust to. I actually take pleasure in meeting it head on. Unlike other things, like making new friends and dealing with bureaucracies, the cold seems very surmountable. I wear layers; leggings and jeans, gloves and mitts, headphones (serving as earmuffs) and a toque and a hood. I walk quickly. And despite the bitterness of the air and wind on the very coldest of days, I can not help but stop and appreciate how beautiful winter is here. The white sun is blinding reflecting off the snow. The conifers still have their needles to protect them, but other trees collect a layer of snow to shield their bare branches. The mist rises from the river where the unfrozen water water meets below freezing temperatures. Facing this winter - even just to walk to school and back, makes me feel strong. Though this is certainly taking it too far, I must admit that as I walk, I compare myself to pioneer women.

There is also inspiration in this extremity. Something about the juxtaposition of cold to warm and blinding sun to early dark. In the quiet, among the soft sounds of my apartment and in the less hectic schedule (for now) of this semester, there is space for words and art to resume. Exciting, and intimidating.


On the way home from school.



Monday 21 January 2013

Little Things.

My home right now is a collection of little things. Pieces that are slowly coming together to make a home. A blue and white porcelain cup with my toothbrush and toothpaste in it on my white enamel sink. It's a small sink, with no counter to clutter with make up and hair elastics or necklaces, taken off before bed. These days, it is one of two adornments, one from Beth or one from Tiff. Reminders of these dear friends, carrying something with me that has passed from their hands to mine.

My apartment is one of twelve in an old building on the same street my great grandma used to live on. I like that. Though there are things in my apartment that don't work so well, namely the water pressure for the tub/shower, there are other things that are old and sturdy, like the painted white doors. There are also things that are charming, like a collection of interesting faceplates for the light switches, the archway details on doorways between rooms and all the exposed pipes carrying hot water to the radiators in the apartments above. 

There are funny things too, like the man next door who snores every night and goes to bed by nine. What makes it funny and not nightmarish is that it doesn't stop me from going to sleep. I hung my first piece of art and I now have a table and chairs. Little things. 

My neighborhood.