Among the things I find interesting about the culture of cuisine is the underlying symbolism behind food and no where is that more relevant than in Asia.   Some call it superstition and cast it aside but I have long enjoyed the interpretation it brings to the kitchen, the table and the daily practice of feeding ones self; body, mind and spirit.

In a time when fast food reigns supreme, when so many are disconnected from environment and each other; why not take a moment to reflect on the energy long associated with food from a culture rich in history and ritual, at the start of a new year.  After all, this is a people who have a God of the Kitchen.

The Story of The Chinese Kitchen God

Each year  Zao Jun,  the Kitchen God is assigned by the Emperor of Heaven to watch over each family and report on their activities.  On the New Year, the Kitchen God returns to heaven to file his report.

In the annual thank you dinner to the Kitchen God, sticky rice is served because if his mouth is full of sticky rice, Zao Jun can't tell tales.

Born under the Chinese astrological sign of the Dragon, I have a big appetite for life and living large.  Can't wait to spread my wings in 2012, the Year of the Dragon.  As the lunar new year energy kicked into high gear this week, I've been plagued by unusual food cravings (thus my recent journey to T&T Supermarket). So I took a few moments and look up the Chinese symbolism behind each and see what is this Dragon is really has an appetite for.

I simply can't get enough rice at the moment.  I'm not a big bread girl, I tend to opt for unleavened breads, but at the moment I am throwing over wheat all together and opting for rice, in particular, sticky rice.

In Chinese tradition, rice symbolizes fertility, wealth, luck and the link between Gods & Men.  This is among the reasons you see a bowl of rice on alters honoring various gods & deities across many cultures.  Rice, being such a large part of the Asian diet, represents life.  A home without it is poor indeed.

At this time of the year, in Chinese households you'll find Nian Gao (Sticky Rice Cake) symbolizing the increasing prosperity of each year.   I'm craving Lo Mai Gai, glutinous rice with combined with pork and Chinese sausage, mushroom and water chestnuts; wrapped in a lotus leaf and steamed.  Often associated with Dim Sum, this sticky rice is all about family togetherness (and it wouldn't hurt to shut up the Kitchen God).

Oranges and pomelo keep coming home in big bags from the market.  As it turns out, oranges represent wealth, good fortune and gold (we Dragons do love our treasure) and pomelo for abundance, prosperity, having children, good health and family unity.

Lately I just can't resist spouts; all sprouts and baby vegetables, just have to have them.  Sprouts, in particular bean spouts, represent your 'heart's content' and symbolize a fresh start to the year.   Theses delicate Singapore Bok Choy Spouts perfectly fit the bill, bright and fresh I just could not resist them, as it turns out this is more than just lunch.

Life Speaks Through Food

Over the holidays, I got engaged to the Chef in my life.  Along with him comes a 'bonus daughter' who is almost three and (of course) our two dogs (mine and his) --- we are a rag-tag bunch of hooligans --- but we are family.  Joyfully abundant, sticky, but fresh and still juicy thanks to a generous amount of healthy stream.

After a long absence, steam is making a big come back in the Gypsy Kitchen, sure this will appease the Kitchen God (and keep him from seeing me sneaking those almond cookies between meals).  Besides, it feels very Dragon to me.

Happy Chinese New Year to you, may love and life be filled with joy and a measure of magic.  What does your food say to you?

Be sure to feed the Kitchen God.

Resources:  Lo Mai Gai (sticky rice) & Singapore Bok Choy Sprouts found at T&T Supermarket
224 Hunt Club Rd Ottawa, ON
(613) 731-8113

Steaming tip: Steam Lo Mai Gai over boiling water for 15- 20 minutes until bamboo leaves are dark green and contents is soft. Best practice, line steamer with parchment paper or cabbage leaves to prevent sticking. Serve hot.

 A little weekend extra from Food Gypsy, Celebrating the Epiphany with La galette des Rois - (the cake or "wafer" of the Kings), a charming bit of food culture from France.

"Traditionally sold and consumed a few days before and after this date. In modern France, the cakes can be found in most bakeries during the month of January.  Two versions exist: in northern France the cake (which can be either circular or rectangular) consists of flaky puff pastry layers with a dense center of frangipane.  In the south of France, particularly in Occitania and Roussillon, the cake, called gâteau des rois or royaume, is a torus-shaped brioche with candied fruits, very similar to the Catalan tortell. This version of the cake originates in Provence and predates the northern version.

Tradition holds that the cake is “to draw the kings” to the Epiphany.  A figurine, la fève, which can represent anything from a car to a cartoon character, is hidden in the cake and the person who finds the trinket in their slice becomes king for the day and will have to offer the next cake.  Originally, la fève was literally a broad bean (fève), but it was replaced in 1870 by a variety of figurines out of porcelain or—more recently—plastic.   These figurines have become popular collectibles and can often be bought separately.

Individual bakeries may offer a specialized line of fèves depicting diverse themes from great works of art to classic movie stars and popular cartoon characters.  The cakes are usually sold in special bags, some of which can be used to heat the cake in a microwave without ruining the crispness of the cake.   A paper crown is included with the cake to crown the "king" who finds the fève in their piece of cake. To ensure a random distribution of the cake shares, it is traditional for the youngest person to place themselves under the table and name the recipient of the share which is indicated by the person in charge of the service." --- Source www.wikipedia.org

Yes, I copied and pasted this, I've never been to France, what do I know (though I do see a trip in my future).

These photos were taken during last year's Epiphany at Philouze, a lovely little bakery in Gatineau, QC.   Chef B has a religious experience every time he steps food inside.  Very authentic, very French.

Philouze Boulanger Pâtissier
811 Boulevard Saint-René Ouest, Gatineau, QC
(819) 561-8062 ‎

Not La galette des Rois but just looking at it make me feel like a king!

As technology reaches deeper into our lives and processed everything threatens to consume us, we seek comfort in the simplicity of what once was.  The return of slow food, our appetite for organics, farm to fork concepts, and the rising of Food Network personalities that epitomize our ideal food culture to iconic rock-star status .

Food is our connection to one another, to family and home, to birthdays, weddings and family picnics; the intertwining of our lives as told at the family table.

Ross & Gertrude Cameron, 1926

Gertrude Cameron (nee Flannigan) was born in Pilot Mound, Manitoba on July 12, 1906. Ross Cameron was born in Maple Creek, Saskatchewan on Dec 29, 1900.  They were married on Dec 15, 1926 and moved to the family farm in Cutknife, Saskatchewan (Home of the World’s Largest Tomahawk) where they raised seven children: Betty, Glenn, Fern, Arnold, Ellen, Sharon and Diane.

Gertrude (Gertie/Gert) learned to cook as most of us do, from her mother and the women in her community; neighbors, family and friends. Over a wood stove pioneer women made everything from bread to beans, three meals a day, long before the advent of frozen pizza. Theirs was a friendly competition to see who could out-do whom at local fairs and church suppers.

Working on the farm burns calories, this is why breakfast on the prairies starts with toast and ends with pie.  No prairie woman worth her lard would send men into the field on less. 

Lunch was called “dinner” and featured whole hams, entire loaves of bread, vegetables straight from the garden and... pie.  At the end of the day, after the dirt of the land was scraped from under finger nails and washed from behind necks, there was supper.  A larger version of “dinner”, finished with cake or pudding or (dare I say it) more pie.

How Gertie Cameron managed in her busy day (hand scrubbing laundry, chasing children, chopping wood, tending her garden and plucking chickens) to make individual desserts for each of the seven children around the table I have no idea.  I can barely manage a scratch together a batch of cookies between IMing, there’s Gertrude making little cakes and puddings and the most precious of all things; homemade ice cream with ice chipped from the family ice-house.

This was a tradition she maintained for much of the family’s time together as they moved from Cutknife, Saskatchewan (Home of the World’s Largest  Tomahawk) to Dawson Creek, British Columbia in 1947, where husband Ross went to work at the town hall.

Is it any wonder that the Cameron Family’s most treasured possession is Gertrude Cameron’s family recipe book, lovingly referred to as “The Gospel of Gert”.

Great Grandson, Kris Johnson, trotted me down the hall at “Nana & Poppa’s” after a breakfast of waffles and eggs and toast and bacon and sausages and fruit (and constant threats of more) to the table where The Gospel of Gert is kept. 

As an only child I freely adopt, thus extending my tribe over many lands, Kris is among my tribe.  He came to me a wide-eyed broadcast student in the 90’s, I believe may have corrupted him on many levels.  After years stories of the infamous Nana & Poppa, I was treated like family in their home and permitted to thumb the cherished pages of their family Gospel.

Son Arnold & daughter-in-law Bernice Cameron (AKA: Ace & Bunny) in the kitchen at Christmas

 Gertrude’s recipe collection, clipped from magazines and newspapers or transcribed from the radio show “Kathy’s Kitchen", are held between the pages of an accounting ledger from the Village of Dawson Creek.  Yellowed and watermarked from years use, stuck to the lined paper with bits of glue and cellophane tape, they document family history.  

An intimate tale told over the stove, in the cool hours of the morning when the ladies did their canning and made pancakes.

Times of struggle, tales of resolution and sagas of celebration, togetherness, tenderness and individual desserts.  So sayeth The Gospel of Gert.

1960, Grimshaw Alberta, Ace & Bunny with their girls Kim & Jill

Passed from Gertrude’s kitchen to the fourth eldest; Arnold Cameron and his wife Bernice (AKA: “Ace & Bunny” or “Poppa & Nana”) after Gertrude’s passing in 1982; this humble collection of family pride is the link to the heart of the home, the many meals shared therein and a passion for good food passed through four generations.

Recipes still in use in Ace & Bunny’s kitchen (Home of The Endless Waffle) include Gertie’s salad dressing (eggs, sugar & vinegar- a family favorite), mustard pickles, hand-churned ice cream as well as the unwritten secret of “how to freeze beans without them goin’ all rubbery”.

As we traipsed through the family property, in Coldstream BC, with its half acre garden and chicken coop, Kris and I reminisced over our similar upbringing.  Families of hardworking people with a respect for the land and what it provides, and the grounded nature that this has lent us in life.

Great Grandson, Kris Johnson, raiding the family garden

“We’re not really a religious family,” Kris observes, between mouthfuls of raspberries from the garden “so Great Grandma’s recipe book is kind of like the family bible.  It’s the thing that binds us, the religion of food.”

Walking back into the cool house on a that hot summer day, we pass a sink full of cucumbers ready for pickling and find Ace, returned from his chores, in rubber boots and shorts.

“It’s too hot for pants” he claims.
“He’s always in those dam boots,” says Bunny, smiling and shaking her head “sometimes he wears them into town!”

Ace takes his boots off and relaxes in his wool socks, legs tanned from just above the knee to mid calf, his eyes filled with mischief.  Must be the epiphany of a lifetime of "homemade" that makes for a family of such beautiful souls.

Long live The Gospel of Gert.

 *Archive photos compliments of the Cameron Family, with much thanks.*

As a (pinot noir soaked)  aside:  Besides his work as a hand-model here on Food Gypsy, Kris Johnson's passion for good grape can be explored on his blog: World of Winecraft at www.wowinecraft.com. (Make wine, not war! )

Ace & Bunny, still lovers after all these years.

Knowing where you've been can help you plot a course for where you're going... where ever that may take you.

Life and it's shifts are not always constant.  Shift happens, sometimes rapidly and you suddenly find yourself questioning personal direction.  How much do you believe in... you?

These past couple of weeks as I have been recovering from a ruptured appendix I have found cause to step back and consider my the path I am on.  Not only did my body break down, my "good" camera (Nikon 5000) suddenly quit.  Is this a sign?  It it worth repairing or should I just quit now?  Is there anything to say that has not already been said?  Anything new that I can offer?  Maybe I should just sell shoes.

I love shoes.   The arch of the instep, the perfect heel, the smell of leather.  But then I remembered that what I really love about shoes is BUYING them I believe I may be incapable of parting with them.  Scrap that.

As energy returned (and I stopped feeling sorry for myself), I sorted my recently unpacked cookbooks, long in storage, now ensconced in the new bistro-style Gypsy Kitchen.  I tore open boxes greeting them like old friends.  They have been resources for many years, some remain great favorites; among them one of Time Life's Foods of the World" Series - American Cooking.    

Published in the early 70's my Mother and had the entire collection; as each edition arrived we would pour over the pages and select a recipe to make together.  This was my first introduction to "international cuisine" at nine years old.

Little did I know that I was reading the likes of Craig Claiborne, Pierre Franey, James Beard, Julia Child, M.F.K. Fisher and Dale Brown. Edited by food writer Michael Field, the series combined recipes with food-themed travelogues illustrating the cultural context of each recipe.

Asparagus, $0.19 per pound... those were the days!

I reread "American Cooking" this week, cover-to-cover, and was reminded how far food in North America has come in just 40 years --- from "cookery" to "cuisine" and there I found inspiration in the uniqueness of the voice that told the tale.  Perspective and experience is as unique as a fingerprint and it colours all that we do. There is no other Picasso. What if he had succumb to critical presser, we might never know him.

I saw in the pages of Time Life, the seed of who I later became, and the path of the food culture that has shaped us on both sides of the 49th parallel.

Until the 60's, pie was a must at the breakfast table.  As pioneers, and immigrants, a woman was once judged by her peers on how well she cooked for her family.  Did her bread rise?  Was her pastry flaky?  What did her husband take to work in his lunch bucket?  Refrigeration, modernization, transportation and the many layers of cultural influence have changed us and the food we eat every day.  I found myself wondering what will change us next?  I feel that we are on the edge of global change.  That is a tale I want to tell.

There were other books in my collection that did not fare so well, that have since left my possession. Ring-bound grocery store finds that now fail to challenge. Why keep what no longer works?  Make room for the new.

My body will heal, my camera will be mended and I will find my way, I always do.  Let go and let the good stuff in.

Change, growth and evolution.  Honoring the past while making room for the present, is what creates a vibrant, abundant future.  In that there is always something to say, always something new based on the familiar. 

The wisdom of my Grandmother combined with a palate of global experience and a desire to create, some might call it "passion".

Among the top talents in the industry today are those who have found a way to incorporate their heritage seamlessly with fresh direction to create new flavour profiles.  This has brought us from "home cooking" to "haute cuisine" and all that lies between.

Gordon Ramsay confesses that when he goes for dinner at his local pub he orders the same thing, every time.  Steak & kidney pie. Simple food, done well, never goes out of style.  We are simple creatures at heart.

Inspired by the past to move bravely into the future of what's next.  Life is a joyful journey.  Let us feast upon it.

Further, I propose that pie is a perfectly acceptable breakfast food.  If it was good enough for Grandma, it's good enough for me.  Pass the pie (or cobbler).

Grandma's Rhubarb Cobbler recipe, works with any seasonal cooked fruit. A family favourite, long since made my own. (recipe to follow)

Our intrepid traveler, Food Gypsy Editor, Astrid DesLandes (aka:  The French Girl) is just returned from gallivanting though the French countryside.

Originally from Marseille, France, currently residing in Calgary, AB Canada, Astrid  is our source for fashion advice and Gluten Free cooking.  (We look forward to her posts on all things yummy and... 'sans gluten'.)

Back again to Calgary  where it's still 2*C as opposed to France where it is 24*C  (as she was mighty quick to point out) -- turns out, in her travels Astrid enjoyed more than just wine in bottles.  (Who knew!)  Sening us a message in a bottle.

A note from our French Girl on the topic of shiny bottles.  A bit of fun from France on Fun Friday.

The Wonderful Things that Come in Bottles

~by Astrid DesLandes, Photo credit: Astrid DesLandes

Since I have arrived in France, I've been noticing bottles.  How could you not, you'll say, it's France, and there's wine!  And wine comes in bottles.

I have had a love affair with bottles since I was a young girl; being fascinated by them, collecting them, and cherishing them.  When living with my grand parents in the Landes region of France, sitting by the river side, I would launch upon the waves, old wine bottles, filled with scribbled messages of friendship and hope to unknown and faraway friends.

I would sit there for hours, dreaming of all the wonderful places my bottles would travel to.  I would imagine the look of wonder and surprise on the face of this mysterious friend who would find the bottle and open it with great expectations.

When it was time to go back to the house for dinner, I would walk the path to the front door, delineated in the sandy soil, by two wobbly rows of old wine bottles planted upside down, so that only a couple of inches would stick out.  Wavy, dotted lines of green and white sparkle.  In the house, the table was set, and on it, the lone bottle of simple country red wine shone in deep hues of red and purple, in the glow of the fire place.

A few days ago, at my brother's restaurant in Carry-le-Rouet, I noticed the bottles again. Tall thin, colourful, joyous bottles of artisanal vinegars, with exotic names such as Green Apple or Mango Pulp, gleaming in the soft lights surrounding us.

Their contents awakening our palates and senses to unexpected flavours. A message of taste and colours sent for our discovery by an unknown friend.

To those I know, and those I don't, I wish you sweet and surprising messages, in beautiful shiny bottles of all colours, shapes and mysterious provenance.

Magret de Canard with Porcini sauce at Carry-le-Rouet, La Kayzo restaurant. Sooooooo good!

Fab Food Gypsy Editor, Astrid DesLandes (aka:  The French Girl) is currently gallivanting though the French countryside with fellow countrymen. 

 Residing in Calgary, Canada  where it's still winter(ish) Astrid is enjoying beautiful temperatures from Pairs to Marseille.

Oddly, posts are few and seemingly random until one steps back to see the bigger picture for a bit of Friday fun...

"More wine. Saturday afternoon. For l'Aperitif before the dinner coming up."

 

"The wine that came with dinner."

 

"Les Sables d'Olonne ~ Vendée. Lunch at Le Café du Port. Again???  Seafood and wine!"

                       

                     ~ The French Girl, in fine form

Hmmm... I am sensing a theme here.  Vive la France! 

Have fun mon amie.  Gros bisous~~~~

  

It smells of meat.  The steam of 80 years of smoked meat permeate the walls in Montreal's landmark deli; Schwartz's Montreal Hebrew Delicatessine.

It ain't fancy.  It's likely the the same tables and chairs have graced the tiny space on Saint-Laurent Blvd for the last 20 of those years.  It's simple back-lit menu covers deli classics but most go there for one thing and one thing only--- Montreal Smoked Meat piled high between two pieces of light rye bread with Heinz yellow mustard and your choice of sides.

That's it. Simple. Classic. Order it lean, medium or fatty... up to you.

Fans the world over call it the "best smoked meat sandwich in the world". 

As you walk through the door you pass mounds of brisket.  Some, like myself take it to go... under strict orders from those we love.  "A half pound, medium.  And you have to have a Cott's Cherry Soda, it's the Jewish Dr. Pepper."

 This was my first official smoked meat experience in the city of the Habs and what I came to understand is that Montrealer's (and smoked meat lovers everywhere) have very strong opinions about the meat they love and they will defend their choices with great conviction.

Some revere Schwartz's other's Lester's, Reuben's, Dunn's, Chenoy's or Pete's Smoked Meat.

Each with their own spicing, smoking and steaming techniques it's like arguing which temple to worship at.  Everybody has their favourite rabbi.  Little did I know that a day trip to Montreal would take me deep into the heart of  Canadian deli tradition... first stop Schwartz's for lunch.

Often lined up down the street, you never know who you'll be sitting beside in Schwartz's at the family-style tables seated - first come first serve.  Rock stars, politicians, actors and famous foodies sit beside us regular folk, a request of "pass the ketchup" might be answered by someone who looks strangely familiar.

Newspaper clippings and photos line the meat permeated walls, my lunch was supervised by Anthony Bourdain, the framed 2D version (I fear he would not have approved of my fries "wasted real estate" less room for meat.)

Yes, I had the Cott's soda, it really got me in the mood. One sip and I was high enough on sugar to jump on the table to declare myself a shiksa goddess.  Oy Vey, distracted kosher pickles.

The Jewish Dr. Pepper, Cott's Black Cherry.

Dam I love a good sour pickle.  In fact, you can put that on my tombstone: "Here lies Gypsy she loved a good pickle."  Crisp.  A good pickle should crunch and snap, juice should run down your arm as you eat it.  It should be a requirement that you eat it over the sink.

Coleslaw.  What, you thought I was going to have a nice Hebrew sandwich without the coleslaw?  P-lease.  Enough already. Schwartz's slaw is vinaigrette based, light and refreshing which was good because I had to have fries.  Crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside: the perfect deli fries to go with one a BIG meat sandwich.

A proper Montreal smoked meat sandwich is just short of a half pound of sliced, steaming meat. I chose medium... a balance of meat and fat to really get that big, meaty, smoky taste and enough moisture to make it juicy.  My friend, Diane Meagher, went lean.

Wet-cured in brine for 1-2 days, Montreal smoked meat is then rubbed in seasonings and marinaded for 8-10 days, smoke-cooked for 6-8 hours, which is what gives it that dry, dark crust or bark - then steamed for 2-3 hours.

That first bite at Schwartz's was a surprise; sweet, slightly peppery, the smoked favour only permeating the bark, giving way to pure delicate, juicy brisket.  I expected that same peppery spicy, smokey flavor to penetrate the meat, like a New York pastrami and this... is when I learned about the differences that Montrealer's hold dear in their deli.

I quite fell in love with Schwartz's Deli.  From the all cash till to the yellowing photo of Neil Young on the wall.   I understand why it's spawned it's own musical.  I could write a sonnet, perhaps a brief ode.  I left much verklempt, needing to call my mother, with a half pound (medium) packed to go for the French Chef in my life, who would surly pout had I forgotten.

Schwartz's, still the same after all these years. In this fast world we live in, it's nice to know that some things remain (comfortably) familiar.

But my lunch date Diane, who worked in and out of Montreal for years, a dyed-in-the-wool Chenoy's gal's response was: "Meh, no flavour."  Her tastes lean to a more robust spice, a deeper bark and a stronger smoke so... after lunch at Schwartz's it was dinner at Chenoy's.

Chenoy's has several locations verses the single location of Schwartz's and is a relative newcomer in business for 65 years.  It has the look of a Jewish Denny's, big and bright with a long deli counter, dine-in or take-out and it too smells of meat.

Among the Chenoy's delicacies on the five page menu... smoked meat poutine, smoked meat pizza and smoked meat spaghetti. Thank you, we'll stick to the meat-bread-mustard combo.

Diane, again, ordered lean.  Indeed a more intense brine flavor that completely penetrates the meat and a sharp bark, hand cut, it is a beautiful sandwich.  The slaw is creamy with a light caraway flavour and the pickle... might just be from the same pickle jar. 

I had the cheese cake.  Baked, gooey, so rich with cream-cheese I thought I might sing passages from Yentl.  But that's probably not Kosher.

One must choose one's own temple of smoked meat, freedom of meat religion applies.  

I like Chenoy's but I'm still a Schwartz's gal, next time maybe Celine Dion will be in town and she can pass the ketchup while she explains several of her song choices over the last decade.  Mazel Tov.

Schwartz's
3895 Saint-Laurent Boulevard
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
http://www.schwartzsdeli.com/index2.html

Chenoy's Deli
Six locations - Quebec, Canada
http://www.chenoys.com/

Now this... is cheese cake.

Gypsy Note: The guilt overwhelms:  OK, OK... not all of that half pound of Schwartz's medium made it to my favorite chef. (shhhhhh... it will be our little secret!)  What?  I called my Mother.

Would Monsieur like fresh, ground pepper with his pasta & cheese sauce?

"To all those cash challenged young peeps - enjoy the KD and Hamburger Helper.  One day your significant other will tell you that you can't have that anymore and you will be sad." ~ Peter Priestley Wright

Recently my friend Peter lamented that his darling spouse Diane, was restricting his diet (somewhat) by limiting his choices.  Knowing Peter as I do, this will (no doubt) be an excuse to buy more expensive wine.  We all have our way of coping with those things our significant others request of us... out of love.

But I couldn't help wondering what is it that bring us back to that box?  Thus this little journey of the soul --- indulgence and redemption.

Some might call this using my Food Porn abilities for evil.  Some may turn away in horror and some may cringe, but one thing is for certain, we all have those guilty food pleasures that are not adult, not good for us, and yet they feed us in a way nothing else can.

It is a connection to nostalgia, when we ate right from the pot (because we had little else) and we made what we had we turned into feasts of debauchery.  We added things.  It was probably a late night cooking frenzy, fueled by alcohol (or other substances) wherein your ultimate recipe for your particular 'box-o-food' evolved to 'epic' proportions.

In your mind at least.

And in that moment... with neon cheese sauce on your lips, you were happy.  (And then you passed out...)

In North America, the contents of this box was likely one of the first things you cooked on your own. Back when you were first permitted to boil water, it was a right of passage. If you're American it's "Kraft Macaroni & Cheese" and if you're Canadian it's "Kraft Dinner" or "KD".

In shooting this little ode to things-we-keep-at-the-back-of-the-cupboard/in-our-tool-box-so-the-spouse-wont-find-it, I was momentarily bored so I read the box. (We writers call this 'research'.)  Kraft, in its wisdom, now has two options for sauce on the box - 'Sensible Solution Cheese Sauce' (1 Tbsp margarine, 1/3 C skim milk) and 'Classic Cheese Sauce' (3 Tbsp butter, 1/4 C milk).

Call me crazy, but if I were being 'sensible' I might not be consuming foods that bear colours not found in nature.
What can I say, I went 'classic' on the 'sauce'.

No matter how far we go in life, there are always those guilty pleasures that we only allow those closest to us to see.  The tuna casserole made with a can of mushroom soup, the cup-o-noodles, the hot dogs with yellow mustard, the processed-cheese grilled cheese sandwiches on white bread, the (giant bag of) ripple chips, the chicken noodle soup from a box that is yellow... in an unearthly way.

Let us not forget the dips/spreads and other assorted goo straight from the jar... with a spoon... or a finger.  Peanut butter.  Cheese Whiz.  Chili con queso sauce.  Pickle chip dip.  Nutella.

So for those whose budget confines their choices, I say...

"Eat well, live large, enjoy life and learn to cook 'outside the box'."

And for those, now comfortable in life, whose indulgences are now overseen by those who love us, I say...

"What happens at the cabin, STAYS at the cabin."

Live. Love. Eat... well.

No, that is NOT ketchup. That is ORGANIC ketchup and Sriracha hot chili sauce. Just call me "Betty Cracker".

It's not just "Princess Ribcurry" alone in the kitchen anymore...

  

WELCOME TO MY KITCHEN...
... the conversation is great.  We laugh a lot.

And there’s real food.  Honest to goodness real food.  If it doesn’t have a mother or come from the ground, it’s not in my kitchen.  All the food you see on Food Gypsy is REAL, in fact directly after we took its picture... we ate it.  There's no wax or motor oil on Food Gypsy, unless we're talkin' about cars.   

Good food starts with good ingredients. I wouldn’t dream of serving you anything less. It’s the same with great conversations. A measure of respect, a big handful of humour and a bottle of wine never hurt.  Food Gypsy is an ever expanding conversation and we are... expanding.    

First and foremost we have a new publishing schedule (please commit this to memory) now posting Fresh Food Gypsy Tuesdays, Thursdays and sometimes on Sunday.    

Every second Sunday you can look forward to posts on my favorite subject: BACON.  How I've held back for so long is beyond me, but the floodgates are now open.   

We also have a couple of new characters in the kitchen, stirring the pot, so let's make some introductions:

Astrid: Astrid DesLandes (aka: The French Girl) is our Food Gypsy Editor and best-est Gypsy friend. Originally from Marseille, France, currently residing in Calgary, AB Canada, she is the source for fashion advice and Gluten Free cooking.  We look forward to her posts on all things yummy and... 'sans gluten'.   

Astrid also makes a wicked tapenade and endorses the use of cream and butter because... well... she's French.  She also makes a lot of stuff with cheese and those things are often accompanied by wine.   

As a dyslexic wanderer, I am grateful for spell-check and ubersmart BFF’s.  Please, don't get her started on shoes.   

Ben: Chef Benoit Gelinotte, Chef Instructor at Le Cordon Bleu, Ottawa (aka: The French Dude and 'the man in my life') also acts as the Food Gypsy Technical Advisor (which means I call and ask him stupid questions, and he sometimes hijacks my plating).   

Originally from Dijon, France, Chef Benoit received his B.E.P - B.P. - B.T.S in culinary arts in 1991, relocating to Canada in 1992. He's worked in several acclaimed kitchens in both countries, and has a great love - of butter and salt.  (He knows a thing or two about wine too.)  

This weekend, making Beignets for a Mardi Gras post (coming this Thursday) brought back fond memories of his Grandmother, Chef Georgette, and the mountains of food and many hours he was gladly pressed into service in her kitchen.   

Hmmm... interesting that the Food Gypsy support team is French.  I'm sure there's a lingerie commercial in there somewhere.  Please, don't get him started on shoes.   

Magnus: (aka: Mags, Magzie) My furry companion, currently residing with my mother in Nova Scotia, soon to join me in Ottawa. He has no opposable thumbs but plenty of opinions.  Opinion # 1: there should be a special tap in the kitchen for gravy.  Opinion # 2: Broccoli, yuck.  He’s not fat… he’s a bulldog.   

I miss him. He's not French.   

Sandi: Sandi Harrison (aka: Miss Sandi Joy) - BA Ed, MA, is originally from Terrace, BC Canada and currently residing in Dalian, China teaching English to teenage boys.  Sandi is also a talented writer working on her first novel, avid traveler and our very first Food Gypsy Correspondent.   

What are the odds of two Gypsies in the same family? Miss Sandi Joy is my cousin... go ahead, cry nepotism. (As an only child I have to really reach for relatives). When you read her you'll find a similar wit but a unique voice backed by solid photography skills.   

Hoping to hear regularly from Sandi, to answer such questions as: is there American take-out in China?   

Sandi recently returned from a journey to India and the tale of her adventure with Indian Street Food runs next week, followed by some spicy recipes from the Gypsy Kitchen. (Nothing like Indian spice mid-winter to really WARM you up.)   

Next week is Bollywood week in the Gyspy Kitchen - in my alternate reality my life is a Bollywood Musical - there is high drama, sparkly bracelets and lots of eye liner.   

Dr. Kubie: Dr. Josef Kubinec (aka: Dr. Joe), BPT, CPMA –physiotherapist, sports medicine specialist, acupuncturist, former organic farmer and restaurateur; currently based in Clementsport, NS, Canada.  Well traveled, particularly in the far east, having studied acupuncture in China, he brings a whole different skill set to the kitchen.   

Dr. Kubie's a busy guy but he’s promised to drop by on a regular basis and feed us some great food stuff to keep us healthy - between sticking pins in patients.   

Did you know some of your favorite stuff is GOOD for you? Fiddleheads, huge in anti-oxidants; and cheese: good brain food. Can’t wait to hear about bacon.   

Oprah has Dr. Oz. This Food Gypsy has Dr. Kubie.   

And then there's... YOU.  We're delighted to launch our new Foodie Forum on Food Gypsy this week. (No idea how it works... but how hard can it be? I'll figure it out.)   

Tell us about yourself and your foodie frolics in our new Foodie Forum. We'll post a topic and you can ask questions, tell us where you’ve been, what you’re cooking. Then once a month a reader submission will be featured on Food Gypsy Under 'Gypsy Kitchen'.  Always happy to let someone do a little cooking in my kitchen.   

So whether you're a fanatical foodie, a culinary student, a passionate traveler, cookin' for friends and family, or are the King/Queen of dining out, if you have a story to share --- we want to hear from you.

Food is our greatest common denominator, what better way to get acquainted?   

Come on in.  Join the party.  Let's open a bottle of wine and... we'll chat.   

Life is supposed to be FUN.

The dog kissing the lobster, the Maritime version of 'kosher'.

Deep in the Caribbean in the Bay Islands off Honduras is a living gem – Roatan, Honduras.  Island paradise.  To the north is the island of Utila, backpacker haven, amazing coral, and if we turn east we find Guanja with it's man made channels, they call it the "Little Venice' of the Caribbean.

This is Jacques Cousteau country, a living paradise.  There are few sites that compare to the rare beauty of the Bay Islands both above and beneath the water.

On my “Life from Scratch” tour Honduras was 'revelation'.  After 'rest' in Mexico,' recreation' in Belize, 'resolution' in Cuba; Honduras was both a slap and an embrace.  I arrived with a traveling companion, but in a sudden turn of events I quickly voted him off my island making Roatan officially - mine.

Just as I let go of one thing I found myself letting go of a great deal more...  15 pounds more... in about three weeks.  Honduran spa?  No, intestinal parasite.  I often joke that I’m "only one intestinal parasite away from my goal weight"'.   While thrilled with the results, not exactly a recommended weight loss program (trust me on that).

The Food Gypsy website launched as I locked myself in a small apartment, a sandy 500 meter walk from West Bay Beach, above a tiny strip mall that housed a deli and a coffee shop.  These kind folks fed me (and cared about me) until I was well enough to return to adventure.  And return I did, with enthusiasm.  After all, I had to make up for lost time, in paradise.

In the last two weeks of a six week stay I crammed in as much diving, snorkeling, scooter adventure, beach time and FOOD as I could.

For a real taste of Honduran Cuisine, I took myself on an Adventure in Island Cooking.

The combined effect of turquoise water and sunny skies made it the perfect day in paradise, 28 degrees, palm trees swaying in the breeze; a day for Roatan adventure.  My captain, Billy Conner,  is a strapping island man; with a boat.  It seemed like every time I saw Billy he was wet from mid thigh down, after anchoring his boat and wading to the beach.  Like all Bay Islanders, he is polite to the extreme and was constantly apologizing for soaking wet clothing.

Don't worry... it's an island, my friend, you're gonna' get wet.

Captain Billy Connor... "have you ever been to sea Billy?"

There are a cast of characters that work the beaches of Roatan; West Bay Beach and West End Village, snorkeling tours, fishing excursions.  Groups large and small.  Billy makes his living talking to tourists, selling his chartering business face to face.  He's a big, kind hearted man with an easy smile, a gentle laugh... and a big family.   It’s a living, when business is good.

Billy's clients rave about his trips... the snorkeling is good... he knows where’s he’s going...he will sing to you, tell you stories, he's charming and funny... but LUNCH is amazing. 

"You HAVE to go!" says Mark from Oregon, USA "that was one of the best meals I've had here!"

Why is lunch so special?  Because it’s cooked, at home, by Billy’s Mom...

Mrs. Dolse Conner, our hostess.

Mrs. Dolse Conner is an island cook of wide reputation.  The cook for 25 years on the Palmedo Bay Plantation, she now cooks for Billy's clients and has the daily task of cooking for an extended family that exceeds twenty.  Four generations under one roof.  The laundry hanging to dry under the stilted house is a testament to how busy this woman is in her daily life.

“My Mom is a great woman,"  says Billy as we glide across the water on the way to Mom's after spectacular wreck snorkel on the shallow reef  that rims Roatan "well, I think so but, she my Mom.” 

As we walk along the shaded path that leads from the dock to the village we're greeted by a mother hen with several chicks, free-ranging, a friendly dog or two and a group of chatty kids, running along with us, hamming for photos and leaning out of windows.  We pass a group of men playing dominoes and Billy calls out to the nighbourhood children to introduce me.  I felt a little like a celebrity.

Mrs. Conner is a devout Christian woman and before entering her home, in Crawfish Rock Village (celebrity or not), one slips something more presentable over one’s bathing suit and then one apologizes --- for being wet.  (It's an island thing.)

The salty smell of the ocean in my hair was overpowered by the sweet smell of bread, butter, thyme and curry.  The dining table was positively COVERED with food.  Black beans.  Rice.  Coleslaw. Fresh island snapper, fried in butter with Mrs. Conner’s "special seasoning" and plantain chips ("platanos fritos"), sliced so thin they're translucent.

Plantain chips ("platanos fritos"), so perfect...

The food in Honduras is not so different from what we're familiar with in North America, on the mainland and scatted throughout the islands, you find many of the big chain fast food outlets you're familiar with - KFC, T.G.I Friday's - but in the islands food represents a particular challenge as almost everything is shipped in, making food an expensive commodity.  No more expensive for a tourist (prices are reasonably comparable to other resort locations) but for an Islander making a very modest living, it is an entirely different scenario.

Island food is simple, every meal is accompanied by beans and rice served separately or together (one way to feed a family on pennies a day).  Seafood is a truly essential part of the diet; if you can catch it, it's free.  Living on Roatan, on the protected marine park however, presents it's own challenges.  Those that fish must do so outside the limits of the park.   Endless varieties of fish, shrimp, lobster and of course the versatile Conch are fished in these clear, blue waters.

Yes, this was "lunch"... a post lunch nap was necessary!

Today's snapper was caught in the early hours of the morning, before we set off for adventure, Billy was up fishing for his family.  On this day Mrs Conner's kitchen fed 24 people, including me and several neighbourhood children come to Mrs. Conner's door for meals.   The beans, mixed with onion and garlic, cooked to a thick stew; were tender and packed with favor.  Her coleslaw was perfectly balanced and cold on a hot afternoon.  The snapper was tender and flaky, cooked  in butter and spice.    

It was a magnificent meal, made even better by the key lime pie, made from scratch with fresh island limes and a sweet, delicate meringue in a flaky pastry, still slightly warm.  Pure satisfaction.  The children in the backroom, waiting their turn, peeked around the door's edge, eyeing the pie that remained on the table.  I love pie.  There is something so completely comforting about it that says: "you are welcome here."

After lunch we sat, chatting about food and cooking , me working my magic to worm her secrets out of her.  Dolse Conner is a woman of great pride and few words, but she was more than happy to welcome me into her kitchen.   (I respect a cook with five pressure cookers.)  Each day she bakes enough bread to feed the many shining faces that come to her home.  Dinner will be a pork stew (marinading in spices in the fridge) with black beans and rice.

"What’s that gooey concoction in the corner?" I asked with one eyebrow up.

"That be my Guava Cake" said Mrs Conner with a smile and a nod.

Made with ground guava, flour, sugar, eggs and spices,  it's more of a 'pudding' than a 'cake' reminds me of "Pone" or Sweet Potato Pudding that I loved so much in Belize, truly a Caribbean specialty.  She immediately cuts me a piece.  I just ate a HUGE slice of Key Lime Pie, how can I possibly turn down Guava Cake – right?   That would be impolite.

Mmmmmm... guava cake!

When pressed will she reveal her ‘secret recipe’ for the fish?  I have been known to have a reasonably accurate pallet, often being able to replicate a dish after tasting it once... so I take a stab at the ingredients...“Thyme, curry (or cumin), salt, basil?”  Mrs. Conner laughs.  “No.  No curry... no thyme... no basil...” Seriously, not one?   Wow bad day for the taste buds.   Did that horrid little parasite ruin my palette?

She leaves the room to jot down her recipe, while Billy and I chat.  Her feathery writing on a scrap of paper reveals her secrets the first line reads:  "half a cup of butter" (I love this woman) and then I smile knowing that my taste buds are just fine; her key ingredient is a seasoning combination very popular in the Caribbean called 'All Seasoning'.

And what’s in 'All Seasoning'?   I've already sluthed the local spices so I know:  thyme, cumin, salt, basil and MSG.  Ha.   Nailed it.

A day in the kitchen, is worth two on the beach.  A slice of life on an island paradise that became home for a time, and a rare privilege to be a part of Mrs. Conner's extended family.  And how was the  Guava Cake?   Sweet and sticky, served ice cold for breakfast along with a steaming cup of hot Honduran coffee.  

Island living, is sweet.

GYPSY TRAVEL NOTE:  Wondering how you might enjoy Mrs. Conner's fine home cooking on your next trip to Roatan?   Sorry, no website, phone numbers could change at a moment's notice (IF the phones are working) so you're just going to have to rock it old school... take yourself to West Bay Beach, have a cocktail at the Thirsty Turtle (Bananarama Diving Resort) and ask the bartender where to find Billy Conner.  If you're lucky, he might be singing a song or two that night with the band... and he'll probably be wet... but he'll apologize for that.  Tell him I sent you and,  give my best to Mrs Conner!,

For more wonderful images of Roatan, check out our Facebook photos  or our Flickr feed. CHEERS!  Gypsy