Nested

I turned twenty-three in Vancouver on Sunday. I pretended the Olympic fireworks and chaos were for me.

Better yet, I had two fantastic breakfasts:

1. After a much longer than usual, cant-stop-even-though-my-legs-are-dead-and-my-lungs-not-far-behind-but-i-love-this run by the sea wall, i showered and refueled with a much bigger than usual bowl of mueslix...downed with nearly a litre of almond milk. Didnt quite lose that nauseous feeling from the run...

yet...

2. Little Nest cafe. I had looked this up while meal planning for this random Vancouver visit. I fell in love with it on the website, but for not wanting to rush the day and unsure if theyd have vegan options for my girlfriend i was staying with, we decided to just visit for coffee. Impossible. Not with a menu as beautifully simplistic, yet detailed with care and seasonality, written in chalk on floor to ceiling boards. So despite being still uncomfortably full from breakfast, i ordered their homemade organic baguette (four options to choose from) with fresh ricotta and honey and housemade lemon curd. The table number was a block "E" (its a child friendly cafe), the americano strong, the baguette smothered in butter with the sides in dainty ramekins, the whole place perfect. It was exactly the type of spot I would love to call my own someday. I ate every last bite, feeling surprisingly more comfortable. And inspired.

oh, and there was a vegan cookie for Torr

keeping it short but sweet, just like my birthday

pancake person

Despite loving the early mornings, and despising sleeping in, i am a compulsive snooze hitter. This means that when my alarm goes off in the morning, i hit snooze and roll over at least six times. It seems silly really, i should just set my alarm for forty minutes later and get up at the first annoying beep. But i have a feeling that i would still hit snooze six times and just be forty minutes late instead. So i surrender to the habit. Except this morning, when I did not hit snooze, instead I simply turned off the alarm. Three hours later I woke up, well rested for once; I guess my body needed it...

Now when you wake up that late, there are two things you can do:

1. Panic

2. Make a great breakfast

Since I had no where to go (or worse, no where I was supposed to already be), i chose the latter and made pancakes.

And while i ate said pancakes, i thought about how much of a pancake person i am. Given the choice between french toast, waffles, crepes, or pancakes, i choose pancakes. There is something inherently simple about them, childlike i suppose. French toast is something i need an appetite for--its pretty rich; crepes a bit finicky, and i need alot of them to curb my appetite; since i prefer yeast raised waffles, they require planning ahead, making ahead in the late evening, not impulsively in the late morning. Pancakes are just right.

I may be a snoozer, and normally a morning panicker for it, but today, as a pancake person, it was just another wonderful "morning."

a little bit of yellow goes a long way

sometimes the grey gets to be too much
sometimes life gets to be too much
and you just need some yellow
like these tulips

and these meyer lemons

which i used to make this curd

i'm feeling much brighter

From the freezer with love

Kelowna cannot decide if it is winter or spring. For the last couple of weeks I have been waking up to frost, then just after breakfast, biking in the warm, above zero sunlight. And although it is not quite warm enough to ditch my mittens, it looks, feels, and sounds (birds singing as if in Snow Whites cottage) more like April than January. So long as the weather stays this way, and doesnt pull a prankster drastic freeze come Feb, I will be content to revel in the fact that things might be turning green a little sooner (I am knocking on wood here, folks--this is far to blissful a thought to jinx).

I love spring; it is by far my favorite season; it rejuvenates me. Spring brings sunshine and warmth and tulips and skirts and shoes that dont require socks. Theres little lambs and the chickens start laying eggs again. Let's not forget, too, rhubarb and peas and fava beans and the first crop of rapini. I am trying really hard not to get excited too early here, it is after all, still January and there is not a bud in sight yet, but I feel like clicking my heels and saying so-long to winter-- bring on the April showers and May flowers.

In celebration mode, I pulled a bag of peas out of my freezer that I shelled last June (the seasons were late to change last year), a habit I am trying to get into before it is time to refill it again. Even though my freezer is a right buffet of chocies, there are still many wonderful wintery veg at the farmers market that my fridge is jsut as full of fresh local goods. So I compromised and made a meal that was as much a mixture of the two seasons as the weather outside. It was a sort of non-committal, dont- get- your- hopes- up -dish- that was both tuck in wintery warmth and fresh spring. And with all the bags of peas still in my freezer, I will be able to keep celebrating even if January decides to be winter again.

Sage and Pea Barley with Roasted Sunchokes, Turnips and Hazelnut Pesto
The pesto was another freezer gift, frozen in icecube trays for easy use. The toasty buttery hazelnuts and fresh parsely flavour were brilliant with both the sweet peas and earthy roots. The sage made the whole thing warmer--perfect because it may be sunny, but its sure not warm yet. Serves two.

Gently soften in a pan:
1 shallot, thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, crushed
Add in, cover with water and simmer for twenty to thirty minutes
2/3 cup pot barley

Meanwhile, roast on a parchment lined sheet at 375F:
1/2-1 cup sunchokes, halved if large
1/2-1 cup turnips, cut in wedges
drizzle of olive oil
salt and pepper

When the barley is cooked, drain off most excess water, leaving about two tablespoons, and stir in:
2 cups frozen peas, defrosted
1 1/2 tsp dried sage

Heat through, combine with roasted roots and top with a big glob of hazelnut pesto (just follow your favorite basil pesto recipe, substituting parsely for the basil and hazelnuts for the pines). Think spring.