a peek inside the fishbowl

It’s Guest Post Week here at the Fishbowl! I’d like to welcome Rebecca, a.k.a @bitofmomsense. She’s one of the kindest and most charitable people you’ll ever meet, whether it’s online or in person. Did you know that she’s also the Community Engagement Manager for Best Tools for Schools?  And is pretty awesome in the kitchen? Take it away, Rebecca!

–

Some of my best experiments in the kitchen have become some of our favourite recipes. My disasters in the kitchen (I’m looking at you eggplant dish I attempted) are usually never discussed again. Today, an experiment became an instant hit, and I want to share it with the readers of the Fishbowl!

After a trip to the Cumberland Market, I was armed with a lot of fresh vegetables and an Artisan baguette. Another stop for cheese at Cheddar Etc. found a soft, creamy Gouda on sale and Duck Rillette, a treat I was recently introduced to by my friend Tracey of Epicuria Fine Food Store and Catering here in Ottawa.

A fresh tray of cheese, pate and bread crisps was quickly shaping up, but I felt it was missing one thing – Chutney. Especially with Gouda, a white, mild cheese, I knew I wanted a pairing.

Armed with Niagara peaches that were tucked in my freezer a few weeks ago, I set off to create a Chutney deserving to sit with my cheese and fresh bread.

The result was sweet, savoury and a perfect way to use peaches. Since I made this up while cooking it, the ingredient amounts are estimates. Feel free to play with more/less to suit your taste.

I hope you enjoy it too.

Ingredients:

4 peaches, fresh or frozen, peeled, chopped or mashed
¼ cup minced red onion
¼ cup white wine vinegar
3 tablespoons of brown sugar
3 tablespoons raisins
Pinch of salt

Directions:

1. In small sauce pan, splash a small amount of olive oil. Simmer red onion until translucent.

2. Add vinegar, brown sugar and raisins and a pinch of salt. Simmer until bubbling.

3. Add peaches.

4. Continue to simmer, on medium-high, while letting it bubble and most of the liquids evaporate.

5. When most of the juice is gone, and it forms a thicker mass and you start to worry that the bottom of the pan will burn, remove from heat.

6. Store in the fridge until ready to serve. Serve closer to room temperature.

When I met Emma Waverman at BlogHer I was immediately struck by what a friendly and passionate person  she is, and when I read her blog the connection immediately solidified. I found myself reading, nodding my head, and uttering many OH YEAHs and I’VE BEEN THERE TOOs. Read on! 

–

I am happy to dropping into the Fishbowl today to do a guest post as Andrea swims around in other waters. I am Emma Waverman and I blog daily at www.embracethechaos.ca on a myriad of topics that have to do with being a modern parent. I am also co-author of the cookbook Whining and Dining: Mealtime Survival for Picky Eaters and Families Who Love Them. (Ed: available at Indigo/Chapters and Amazon.]  Drop by www.embracethechaos.ca to check out what is creating chaos today!

–

I am standing in the BlogHer Expo Hall and the Pillsbury sales rep is telling me to come back later and sample their fabulous new lunch product: a frozen peanut butter and jam sandwich [Ed: GACK] that is individually wrapped and will thaw sitting in a lunch bag. That way, my perky presenter tells me, lunch is pre-made and you can spend 10 extra minutes with your kids in the morning.

I stood frozen in shock, just like the PB&J that she was trying to sell me. But PB&J is so easy to make! My kids could do it, but they aren’t allowed because most schools are nut-free, I told her. Not only that but there is no such thing as quality time in the morning; it’s mostly aggravation panic time.

She gave me a glassy smile and suggested that the convenience of such a product was actually going to make me a better parent.

At this point we parted company. As I walked around, I grew more and more frustrated with this idea that convenience is somehow a worthy trade-off for health, the environment or just plain good taste. By the time I sat down for lunch with my fellow attendees I was bursting to tell the story. “I don’t get it! It’s just like Bagelfuls!” I exclaimed noting the similarity to the pre-frozen bagel and cream cheese product which I refer to as a bagel Twinkie.

“We eat Bagelfuls every morning for breakfast,” said a fellow attendee. They are delicious.” At this point I decided to not discuss the topic anymore until I reached the quiet of my keyboard.

Here’s the thing. By taking the few extra minutes to spread cream cheese on a bagel, nut butter on bread or even to make your own cookies or dinner from scratch, you are sending a message to your kids that good food is important. Taking the time to prepare good food is an important part of the day because healthy bodies (and a healthy planet) are worth it.

I want my kids to be able to open the fridge and prepare a snack so that they know that food does not come pre-packaged and pretty from the freezer. I want them to develop the ability to know what tastes good, which peanut butter they like better; how much to put on and to experiment. Maybe someday they will discover that they like cucumber and tomato on their bagel and that peanut butter and leftover spicy chicken is a pretty good sandwich. Who knows? But they won’t figure anything out if I pop a frozen sandwich in their backpack so I can spend more quality time with them. Hey Pillsbury lady, cooking is quality time.

I’m busy charging my batteries, so it’s Guest Post Week here at the Fishbowl! Today I’d like to introduce you to Dave. Dave makes me laugh. His blog is a very sweet record of his family life. Someday his kids will read it with laughter and tears. I have his grandmother’s tomato soup recipe and I keep meaning to post it. Someday I will remember.

–

I cannot believe I’m in the Fishbowl! Gosh. It’s much roomier than I thought.

I’m Dave from over at Tomato Transplants. My wife, Erin, and I grew up in Leamington, Ontario — the Tomato Capital of Canada. We’re raising our three kids on Prince Edward Island. Henry is six. Jane is four. Alice turns two this week.

*******

It’s Friday. Erin is still recovering from her surgery. She feels good today. She looks good. We celebrate by taking the kids out for a rare restaurant meal. We choose an Italian place on Victoria Row — a pedestrian mall in Charlottetown.

The kids behave splendidly. Erin’s dark hair and sunglasses shine in the evening sun. She is beautiful. I am so lucky.

We pay, and linger on the street for a few moments. A band plays. The kids start to dance.

Erin: I’m going to run into the Confed Centre to use the bathroom.

Me: OK. Kids, do you have to go?

Kids: (dancing) No!

Me: Are you sure?

They look at me as if I am a moron.

Erin leaves. I’m left with two twirling dresses and a six-year-old boy trying to look cool. The tie helps (he dressed himself).

Alice: (twirling) I’m drunk!

Me: (blushing)Oh — heh — don’t say that, sweetie.

A few faces turn to us. I kick myself for laughing uncontrollably the first time she ever said this line.

Jane: I have to go pee.

Me: What?

Henry: Me, too.

Me: But we just asked –

Alice:Haff to pee.

Me: You wear a diaper!

I think a minute. I can take them to the Confed Centre, but I don’t want to risk Erin missing us when she returns. She’s still awfully tired. I’ve been counting her steps all night, and can imagine her searching far and wide for us if she finds us AWOL.

Me: How bad do you have to go?

Jane/Henry: BAD.

We rush into the Confed Centre. We don’t meet Erin on the way in. I assume she is still in the Ladies’ Room. I realize if we go to the Men’s Room, she — again — might miss us on the way out.

Jane’s seems to be the more urgent case, so I let her into the Ladies’ Room. I call into the room as Jane enters.

Me: Erin — It’s us. Jane is coming in.

I wait a minute.

I hear Jane yell something from inside the bathroom.

I crack the door open.

Me: What’s that, Janey?

Jane: I said, I’m pooping.

Me: (panicking slightly) Is Mum in there?

Jane: I don’t know. Mum?

No answer.

Shoot.

Where is she?

How am I going to deal with Janey? She has wiped herself before, but with mixed results.

Jane: I’m done.

I make a decision.

Me: Janey, you’re going to have to wipe yourself.

Jane: I can’t!

Alice squirms on my hip. Henry does the Little Boy Pee-Pee Dance. A stream of people walk past. I can only imagine what they think of this man yelling into the women’s bathroom.

Woman: (smiling) You’ve got your hands full.

Jane: I CAN’T WIPE MY-SELF.

Alice: I’m drunk.

The woman scoots away.

I convince Jane she can, in fact, wipe herself. “I be-lieve in you!”

We return to the street, and find Erin waiting patiently. She had, as it turns out, gone on from the bathroom to buy tickets at the Confed-Centre Box Office for a show that’s coming to town in a few weeks. That’s why we missed her.

Erin: What happened to you guys?

Henry: Dad made us go in the girls’ bathroom.

Alice: I peed!