Zeus, jabby-jabs and Toddtinis

What do you see when you look at the image on the left?

Do you see a pussycat, tuckered out after long day of eating, lounging and splashing in the water dish?

Or do you see a content feline, happy knowing he's got it good: food, water, warmth, a sister who actually likes having him around, and a cushy (if not colourful) snoozing spot?

Me? I see neither.

I see conspiracy. I see vengence. I see barf in my shoes.

This is Zeus, Hagia's littermate/brother and Beanie's adopted brother: just as skittish as his siblings and less open to progress and new ideas than The Vatican and the Flat Earth Society combined.

The vast majority of cats prefer women; this one prefers men. He loves his papa (my Big, Strong Cardapoppy) and thinks the exbf is just plain neat-o. He'll even come out and watch male television presenters (I think Jamie on Mythbusters is a favourite).

Women, on the other hand bring a look of terror onto his little furry face. I swear he thinks the female portion of the humman species are all gorgons.

As far as this tiger cat is concerned, My Dear Little Cardamummy is something to avoid. His walnut-sized brain has been hardwired to avoid direct eye contact with her as he scuttles by, lest she notice him, and launch into Euryale-inspired shrieks of "Here Zeusie Zeusie Zeusie! I have some fishie for you!"

I am treated little better. Often our interactions consist of me sitting on the couch, his striated head craning around a corner to fix a terror-filled stare at me. If I obviously notice him, a temporary parlysis takes hold before he tears off to another room. Funny...I've noticed the same with a few human males.

Our truce is such: he does what he wants (within reason) and I feed him and do the box. I don't cuddle him and he doesn't leave me "presents"...anywhere. I don't complain loudly when I slip in the streams he leaves from his paw-dipping drinking technique. He doesn't sharpen his claws on my dining table leg. It works.

Again...certain parallels abound.

Things were going tickety-boo until a few weeks ago: the water dish needed refilling at three times the normal rate, just as the box needed to be cleaned at three times the normal rate, his hearing became comparable to a stone's, the muscle around his spine diminished, and no more arias. Dr. Bonnie confirmed it was diabetes and a new house agreement would need to be "negotiated": twice-daily insulin jabs: 8am and 8pm.

You try and stick a needle into the ruff of a cat who'd prefer you not share the same postal code.

My first solo attempt took 30 minutes. Hiss. Growl. Spit. Shoulders back. Jump out of the box to behind the furnace. Back away from me and try to escape through the gap to the washing machine. Barricades and flashlights. Leap into the box and then into the other corner, even darker and smaller and more difficult to get to. Grab. Jab. Yelp. A present was found later.

I've taken to giving Hagia a fake jab so he doesn't think he's being picked on. But he's smart and has figured out that there's no way his sister could be happy with a needle stuck in her ruff, so he hid, to watch what happens to her.

I wish I knew this before I tried to fake him out.

Apparently I cannot see a grey tabby, sitting under a clear glass table, positioned behind a table leg that's no more than one inch in diameter. Well, apparently not at eight in the morning.

It didn't take long for him to figure out she got the kitty crunchie reward without being poked by a needle. He was not happy. I found another present.

I told you he was smart.

Based on that, a new and somewhat successful routine was developed:

- Before my morning ablutions I plod my way down the steps to the kitchen.
- I enter the kitchen without acknowledging Zeus. Acknowledging him will have him tear down the basement steps like a bat out of Hell.
- I fumble with the syringe and insulin tube, in hopes that I don't prick myself or break the vial.
- I find my way to the basement TV temple with the unsheathed needle. The nanoseconds needed to flick of the orange cap is enough for him to run out of the box and find a place to hide.
- I set the needle down, get the fake jab, the catnip pouch and two crunchies.
- I pretend to not notice Zeus, the stealth cat, is sitting underneath the clear glass table, behind the one-inch diameter table leg, watching me.
- I rub Hagia's face with the catnip, fake jab her and feed her one crunchie.
- Then I coo at her, and tell her what a good girl she is. At this point, Zeus takes off to his carton behind the fireplace, next to the furnace.
- I swap out the fake jab for the real one.
- I find Zeus, chatter at him while I rub his face with catnip. I fumble for his ruff and I jab him. Sometimes he yelps.
- He then gets his crunchy and an extra catnip rub. If I've done well, he'll let me pet him--if I didn't do well he gives me a resentful "you'll pay for this, my pretty" look.
- I guillotine the sharp, toss the rest of it and then really start my day. If I'm lucky I won't come down the steps to find his writ of protest.

All this for one flipping unit of insulin. It's enough to drive a gal to drink. Well, almost.

I first had this drink earlier this summer at My Dearest Todd's suprise (somethingth) birthday party. Quite honestly, apart from my beloved G&Ts, this is now my favourite way to imbibe in hot weather. Besides, it's another way of getting fresh, seasonal blueberries into me (as if I need an excuse to eat blueberries).

I didn't get the proportions from those lovely barkeeps, so after a bit of experimentation, I've settled on this recipe. The blueberries, I suppose, are optional.

But then again, blueberries make this libation a health drink...as opposed to leaving it a mental health drink.

Toddtinis

1 part açai vodka
1 part blue curaçao
1 part white cranberry juice
blueberries



cheers!

jasmine



I'm a quill for hire!

Lemon-Blueberry Buckle

Good gravy, I think I'm getting old.

I could have sworn I posted this recipe in July, but apparently I didn't. Maybe I should be eating whatever it is is that improves memory. Or is it a supplement? Can't remember right now.

I think blueberry lovers have been especially lucky this summer. Pretty much each and every punnet of (local) blueberries I've had this season has been bursting with plump sweetness. Trust me. I've had several punnets make my kitchen a mere passing stop en route to cakes, tarts and simple yoghurty goodness.

I have several buckle recipes within reach, and even though each is different, they all have the same components: cake, fruit and a crumbly topping. How they come together seems to be the question. Some recipes fold the fruit into the batter, some leave the fruit stewing underneath the batter (as with my blueberry-peach buckle), and others, like this one, sandwiches fruit between cake and topping. Which is correct? I don't know and I don't think it really matters, to be honest.

This year's buckle-making adventure seem to fall within what I've just realised is a preoccupation with lemoned baking. The still-failing-to-my-palate lemon-cherry muffins is part of this. There are worse culinary pre-occupations, I suppose...like how to de-scent durian.

Anyway, unlike said muffins, this recipe was almost there in its first iteration and two minor fixes produced this lovely breakfast, tea and midnight snack cake. The crumb is pale, moist and just lemony enough and plays well against the sweetness of in-season berries.

I made it in one of my 20cm/8" high-sided springform--unmolded it's a gorgeous sight for serving at the table. It could be made in a 23cm/9" pan as well, and will probably be done in a shorter time.

Lemon Blueberry BuckleYield: One 20cm/8" cakeIngredients:For the topping:65g (0.33c) sugar
45g (0.33c) ap flour
40g (3Tbsp) cold butter
for the cake:100g (0.5c) sugar
55g (0.25c) butter
1.5Tbsp flavourless oil
2 eggs
Juice and finely grated zest of one lemon
125ml (0.5c) milk or half-and-half
245g (1.75c) ap flour
1dspn (2tsp) baking powder
0.25tsp salt
280g (1pt/2c) blueberries (fresh or thawed)

Preheat oven to 180C/350F. Butter and paper the bottom of an 20cm/8" high-sided springform pan.

Rub the zest into the sugar, infusing the lemon oils into the sugar. Set aside.

Mix together the juice and milk or cream, let sit.

Sift together the flour and baking powder and set aside.

Start with the topping by rubbing together the sugar, flour and butter so everything is combined, but in varied pebble sizes (from grains of sand to no bigger than a pea). Set aside and get on with the cake batter.

Cream together sugar, butter, and oil. Beat in the eggs one at a time. Mix in the flour and by this point the curdled cream the usual alternating method (flour-cream-flour-cream-flour), scraping down the bowl's sides between each addition.

Pour into prepared pan and level the batter. Tumble the blueberries on top, so they are evenly distributed on the batter. Cover the berries with the topping.

Bake for 60-75 minutes, or until an inserted skewer comes out with cooked cake crumbs clinging (it can be hard to tell as the skewer will have to travel through the stewed berries). The cake will begin to pull away from the sides and the crumble will be a light golden colour.

Allow to cool to room temperature before serving.

cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!

Happy Victoria Day: Blueberry Scones

Happy Victoria Day to all my fellow Canadians.

Whether or not you call it the May Two-Four or The May Long Weekend, I hope you're having a lovely weekend, the weather cooperates and you've marked the unofficial beginning of summer in a delicious way.

There really isn't an official food to celebrate the Queen's birthday. Along with opening up their cottages, and giving serious thought to their gardens, many use this weekend to fire up their barbecues for the first time.

A couple of years ago I posted a Victoria Sponge as my foodish offering. This year I continue with the baking theme and offer Tamasin Day-Lewis' fruit scones, which happens to be my go-to scone recipe.

It's been a while since I last made them and quite frankly I'd probably not have done up a batch if our lovely Judy from No Fear Entertaining hadn't tweeted a sconish SOS, which she posted about here.

The recipe itself is quite easy and forgiving, allowing for variations based on what you have on hand--milk, soured milk etc. I usually make it with either sour cream (with a touch of vanilla) or vanilla yoghurt. The amount of sugar is low, but could (and I'll say should) be adjusted based on the sweetness of the fruit you're adding--a sour punnet of blueberries may require up to another 25g of sugar, for example.

Blueberry Scones

Adapted from Tamasin Day-Lewis' Fruit Scone Recipe, from Tamasin's Kitchen Bible

Yield 24

450g (1lb/ 3.25c-ish) ap flour
0.5 tsp salt
85g (approx 0.3c) butter (cold)

either :
2tsp bicarb + 2tsp cream of tartar + 300ml (1.25c) buttermilk, sour milk, yoghurt or sour cream (mixed together)

or
2tsp bicarb + 4.5tsp cream of tartar + 300ml (1.25c) homo milk (full fat) (mixed together)

50g (0.25c) sugar (+ more for sprinkling)
100g (0.5-0.66c) blueberries (or dried fruit)

Preheat oven to 220C/425F; line a baking tray with parchment.

Sift together flour, salt and sugar. Grate/rub in butter and quickly mix in liquid until spongey.

Lightly knead until smooth and roll to about 1-2 cm (0.5"-0.75") thickness.

Roll the dough into a rectangle and then scatter the fruit and then fold the dough over on itself into thirds. Depending upon how juicy the fruit is, you can roll it out or just press it out with your fingertips.

Cut out scones (5cm/2" round cutter, wedges, etc), set on prepared tray for 10 minutes. Lightly brush with egg/milk wash and sprinkle with sugar and let rise for about 10-15 minutes.

Bake for 10 minutes.

Serve warm with butter, clotted cream, honey or preserves.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Mmm...Canada: Spiced blueberry-maple syrup

This week you'll hopefully notice that things seem to be a little more Canadian in the foodblogging world. Jennifer of the Domestic Goddess and I are hosting sister events, celebrating our home and native land, under the theme of Mmm...Canada.

Earlier this month Jennifer and I issued a challenge to the foodblogging (and foodblog reading) world. We want to know what Canada tastes like to you. She's interested in all things sweet and I'm interested in the savoury side of life .

For me, savoury or sweet, Canadian food draws upon a mixture of indigenous and introduced foods. And I think this makes sense, given our national history. Settlers and immigrants came here to start new lives, but at the same time wanted to maintain their own cultural identities. Wave after wave came, bringing their own seed and livestock, building upon this land's foods. Some introduced flavours have been here for centuries, while others for only a few years.

With every group of settlers--whether they arrived in the 17th century or the 21st, adaptation was was important. Apart from the weather (-30C in winter and +40C in summer) and eventual cultural, social and political changes, they also needed to find ways of eating that reminded them of distant family and friends with ingredients that were available here.

To be honest, when I first thought of Canadian confections, I thought of two things: maple syrup and wild berries. I know it's a bit cliché on a couple of fronts. Maple syrup because, well, it's maple: we produce 85 per cent of the world's maple syrup and the leaf is on our flag. Wild berries, because they are directly linked to our forests and untamed areas, homesteaders, bears and all that.

Sigh...you'd think I'd do better than that, wouldn't you? I mean, Canadian sweets are plentiful--butter tarts, Nanaimo bars, sugar pie, fruit pies, anything appley, ice cream (I can go on and on)--to immediately leap to two obvious ingredients was a little...anticlimactic.

But not.

To paraphrase the late, great James Barber, aka The Urban Peasant and a favoured Canadian cook: "You do the best with what you've got."

How perfect a food theory is that? And how à propos to apply it to Canadian cuisine--I mean it's what we've been doing for years, is it not?

My entry for Mmm...Canada: The Sugar High Edition is my spiced blueberry-maple syrup.

It's a simple twist on two very Canadian ingredients (Elmira purveyed the syrup and the blueberries were harvested last summer from Sudbury, Ontario). Add to that the ubiquitous, familiar and exotic cinnamon and black pepper, and we've got a meeting of East and West, indigenous and imported and sweet and spicy...

Yeah, I think this sweet says Canada to me...

This is one of those bits of instinctive cooking that really doesn't call for precise measurements.

Spiced blueberry-maple syrup
Maple syrup
Blueberries (fresh or frozen)
Cinnamon
Black pepper (optional)

Add all to a sauce pan and bring to a boil while stirring. Lower the flame and let as much of the liquid boil off, leaving as thick a syrup as you wish. Refrigerate any leftovers.

Pour it over buttery pancakes (as shown), over ice cream, fruit fritters...whatever you want.

Check back to Jennifer's site for SHF 44's round up on Canada Day (1 July 2008).


cheers!
jasmine

Edna's favourite blueberry muffins

Honouring a loved one who has died is something, I think, that spans beliefs, borders and eras. The way we pay tribute may differ, but at the basis of it all, funerary rites and other types of memorials are performed as much for the living as they are for the dead.

In our family, when a relative dies, we have observances that are directly tied to religious and cultural rituals that are hundreds, possibly thousands of years old. There are physical rules we abide by--such as those set by my great-great (something) grandfather as to how we are to be buried. There are spiritual observances--such as 40 nights of chants and prayers, led by family or Church elders. And then, there are the dietary restrictions we have--strict vegetarian diet for 40 days.

If I remember correctly, if the deceased had no brothers, then the sisters host a vegetarian feast after 30 or 35 days where all family members, friends and others who can attend, do. If there are brothers, then there is an omnivorous banquet on the 40th death day. These feasts take place after Church ceremonies and can attract hundreds, if not more than 1000 people (I attended a feast for my uncle when I was last in India and there were about 400 people there, to which my mum said that that was only 1/4 of the family).

Today is the 40th death day of our dear Edna.

About three weeks after her passing, a public memorial was held at Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo. About 500 people attended. There were literary lights such as Wayson Choy, there were culinary notables such as Rose Murray, there were also a number of politicians, but what made it wonderful, was there were so many people who were just plain, normal people who were friends, acquaintances or fans.

Dear Friend introduced me to one of Edna's close friends:

"Oh! You're Jasmine!"
"Ummm...yes."
"Edna told me all about you!"
"She did?"
"Oh yes. She told me all about your visits and that wonderful Indian food you brought and what you do (and then proceded to give me details from my Edna visits, and the treats I brought her)."
I was speechless.
She continued,"You know dear, it was a very new friendship, but for Edna it was a very deep friendship."

I thought I was going to cry. Here I was thinking that this woman who touched me so deeply really didn't know me from the next fan who dropped in...I couldn't have been more mistaken.

The day was filled with little moments like that. Mr. Choy and I had a lovely chat about Edna and I told him that she really did like him a lot, filling him in on details of conversations. Even after her death, Edna Staeber continued her magical way of making each one of us feel special.

After the speeches and video clips we spilled into the reception, its tables laidened with sandwiches and sweets. Bowls of punch were off to the side as were carafes of coffee and tea. But everywhere--and I do mean everywhere- were wicker baskets filled with blueberry muffins. The Laurier catering team was given Edna's favourite muffin recipe (she was known for feeding muffins to visitors) and they made hundreds of them. The recipe was also given to each of us, along with a copy of her favourite poem.

I truly believe that death only comes when one has been forgotten permanently. The body may be dust, but memories are what keep us living. I think, through her many, many friends, and countless fans and owners of her books, Edna will be with us for a very long time.

So, in my own little space, here is one more way I hope to keep this wonderful person with us. I hope you try the recipe--it is effortless and forgiving...and somewhat addictive.

In her own words "I've eaten a lot of blueberry muffins in my day, but none as good as my sister Norma's."

Edna's Favourite Blueberry Muffins
Ingredients
50g soft butter (1/4 c)
125g sugar (3/4 c)
1 egg, well beaten
160g pastry flour (1-1/2c)
1/2 tsp salt
1 dspn baking powder (2 tsp)

125ml milk (0.5c)
150g blueberries (fresh or frozen) (1 c)

• Preheat oven to 375F/190C and line or butter 12 medium muffin cups/9 large muffin cups.
• Sift together flour, salt and baking powder.
• Cream together butter and sugar. Add sifted dry ingredients alternately with milk. Fold in blueberries.
• Fill the tins (at least 2/3 full). Bake for 15-20 minutes or until done.

cheers!
jasmine

tags:Edna Staebler Muffins

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Edit: Since posting this, I've found out the attendence guesstimate at the Laurier event was 500. I've amended the post...