Consumable Christmas

Stephanie, a friend of mine dreaded Christmas but not for the usual reasons - getting things ready on time, crowded shops, long queues at the cash. She dreaded the arrival of Christmas morning when her home would be taken over by gigantic presents given to her children by grandparents intent on outdoing the others' extravagance. This issue was compounded by the divorces and re-marriages of both her parents and her husband's parents; not the usual set of two dueling grandparents, but four sets.

One year after a Power Wheels Jeep, Little Tykes Cottage, 5-foot-tall dollhouse and an air hockey table held sway in her family and dining rooms she'd reached the end of her patience with gifts given in a displaced sense of the season. She didn't like that her children were becoming used to large, expensive items and was concerned they would develop a sense of entitlement, perhaps even disappointment if they did not receive things like this. Knowing she would be stepping on some toes and perhaps ruffling more than a few feathers, Stephanie spoke with all four couples. The reactions were varied but in the end a compromise was reached - one large gift the four couples could share the cost of, but anything else had to be "consumable". Consumable in the sense that if it couldn't be eaten or used up within a year it was not to be given.

That first Consumable Christmas brought some snarking that always seems to accompany change. The grandparents seemed unsure what to give. The second Consumable Christmas brought some pleasant surprises - cookies made from old family recipes, outings to ski parks and bowling. As a result the grandchildren, my friend and her husband were spending time differently with the grandparents. Focus shifted from the stress of vying for the most popular gift to better spending their time together. They talked, did things together, connected. I try to keep this in mind each year when I start to put stress on myself.

I admit I don't have a neat, concise ending for this post. Instead of forcing my sleep-deprived self (my one-year-old is feeling the effects of immunization plus he's cutting molars) I will just end with some links to things that make good "Consumable Christmas" gifts.

This month's edition of "Good Housekeeping" has an article on "Homemade Christmas Gifts in a Jar." Especially good is the recipe for Fig & Walnut Cheese Balls. For the person who loves buttery cookies Paula Deen's Five Layer Bars is the ticket. Someone presented my Mom with a jar of Friendship Tea a few years ago and we still make it. Make your own hot chocolate mix or use this as a base recipe to do a flavoured mix.

Non-edible consumables at the top of my list include Lush's Holiday Bubble Bar and the Lush Pud Bath Bomb. If you know a couple in need of a night out, give them some movie passes and, if they have children, offer to baby-sit. In general I'm wary of making a donation to a charity in someone's name, but I have one Aunt who would prefer to see a donation made to the SPCA than to see anything under her tree. If you think your gift recipient would appreciate a donation to their favourite charity or cause, have at!

Adventures in Sushi

This evening my darling husband took me out for my first real Sushi experience. I'm sure I made quite an idiot of myself with awkward attempts at using chop sticks. My internal mantra for the evening: "They've seen this and worse. They've seen this and worse." It wasn't very helpful. Never in my life have I felt so utterly and completely out of my culinary comfort zone. And I refused to ask for a fork. Just stubborn, I guess.

Hubs has been enjoying Sushi for a while. He's quite pleased when he finds a good piece of Sashimi tuna. He was disappointed when my Sashimi tuna experience ended discreetly folded in a paper napkin. I did try. My brain refused to get past the "Good gravy, I'm eating raw fish!" feeling. I chewed twice. I considered my options. I took the napkin.

The evening wasn't a total failure. The Tempura Veggie starter was delicious; subtle flavours and a couple of surprises the biggest of which was a wedge of deep fried apple. I liked it with the soy sauce dip. Sweet and salty, how can a person go wrong? I enjoyed the Maki greatly. I couldn't identify anything I ate except the California Rolls and the Unagi. Unagi could easily become a favourite of mine since the flavour quickly got me past the "ewwww" factor of the tiny, wiry bones. I think, however, one of the most lovely parts of the evening was simply the presentation.

Maki Rolls are lovely little mosaics adorned with jewel-toned fish roe. Seafoam rosettes of wasabi, lacy piles of pink pickled ginger, the diorama of seafood and sticky rice. I've never been one to photograph my restaurant meals, no matter how elaborate the presentation, but the Sushi tempted me. In the end I didn't do it. I just enjoyed, eating with my eyes first and my belly second. Oh, and my fingers, much to hubby's chagrin.

Confessions of a Foodie

Everyone I know has an issue with food. Some people hate to think about it for various reasons and others love it too much. I fall into the "love it too much" camp. It's not just that I eat well, often and with gusto it's that I also think about food a lot. I'm a meal planner. Every week I draw up a dinner plan that includes a main dish and at least one side. I make notes in my recipe books.

When Jon gifted me with "How To Be A Domestic Goddess" and "Forever Summer" I was touched and I'm quite certain I got a little teary. I don't recall a display like that when he presented me with an engagement ring. So you see, I really am food centered. To the point of ridiculousness. I get excited when I know people are coming to stay. Knowing that I'm cooking for an audience (of more than my usual two) is exciting for me. An adventurous palate is preferred, but I've come to view the blander palate as a challenge as well, though begrudgingly. I mean, what is the point of a drawer filled with herbs and spices if I cannot use them? Interestingly, the most boring of palates never seem to mind salt, and I'm learning that salt is so much more than iodized sodium chloride.

Right now I have two types of sea salt - rock sea salt in a grinder and some grey, lacy fleur de sel that has a slightly mineral finish and melts oh so wonderfully into food. This afternoon I spied a display of coloured salts at Bulk Barn. If it wasn't for the outrageous price tags on these little jars I'd have bought the set. Hawaiian salt, Himalayan salt, flaked Australian salt, smoked salt, infused salts, oh my! A pastel array of pinks, greys, blues. I felt dizzy for a moment. And yes, I know these salts are just the food fashion of today. Fleur de sel and dark chocolate has become such a popular combination that it's nearly a gastronomical cliche. Even Lindt makes a fleur de sel product. However, the fact remains that I want this latest fad in my kitchen too. I want to play around with these ingredients, want to learn what I can by using them.

At the moment my parents are my house guests. They are both on low sodium diets so my gourmet salt wish list can be put on hold for now, but it doesn't stop me dreaming or drooling (I told you I have a problem). In the meantime I will cook food as tasty as it can be on limited seasonings (my parents prefer blander tastes in addition to their low sodium requirements) and plan at least one kick-ass dessert - Kate's Apple Pie with Luscious Caramel Sauce (recipe, Kate's; name, mine). Hey, it is made with unsalted butter.

Lost in Space

'Yesterday a tote bag containing two grease guns was lost in space. The astronaut was on a spacewalk, a grease gun went off, she stopped to clean up the mess and off the bag spun into the infinite abyss. I can only imagine her frustration as she watched the tools float away, so close yet... Then I started thinking about all the things that have been lost in space or lost to space - satellites, pieces of shuttles and ships, human lives, Laika.

As long as there's been sci-fi there's been the lost in space theme. It is the single most terrifying thing I can imagine. Isolation. Desolation. The cold. Not to mention the constant panic attack that is zero gravity. It's hard to envision Major Tom floating along taking everything in stride, "Oh well, there's nothing I can do. Might as well enjoy the view out my window here." Which is not a bad metaphor for coping with life in general, I suppose. If there's nothing you can do, why fight it? Accept.

Today my thoughts have been madly off in all directions. It all started with Outer Space and thoughts of satellites orbiting their primaries, with things that are lost, which naturally turned into the things that are found. Right now far above my head there's a bag of tools turned space debris never to be retrieved. There might be a metaphor there somehow, but that's not for me to explore. What is pre-occupying me is that all these little things happen, are recorded. These little things become firsts, monumental incidents, and that an event so far away, so inconsequential, can send you off on tangents completely unrelated to tasks at hand.

The First Time

The first blog post I ever wrote still exists on a server somewhere. About five years ago, maybe even six, I tentatively hit that "publish" button and waited for I-don't-know-what. I waited to feel different, or to be noticed or to not be noticed, which would ultimately mean feeling the same as before. I thought that putting myself out there somewhere in William Gibson's cyberspace would be a life altering experience. And it was, but not immediately.

"A Hundred Decisions and Revisions" is me writing me:
1. as I am now at this very moment and
2. without a screen persona

If you're here because you've followed my writing in the past, hello again! If you're here for some other reason, hello any way!

The first post is never terribly exciting. I promise it gets better from here.

Usually...