And that's a wrap: Long-time Castanet food columnist says bon appetite one last time

Columnist signs off

Photo: Contributed

Castanet food columnist Kristin Peturson-Laprise is ending her long-running column.

Well, this is where we part ways.

This is my last Castanet column. It’s been a wonderful journey all these years but now the time has come for other adventures.

I think this might be one of the longest standing columns, especially if you include the original “He said, She said” that my husband Chef Martin and I used to do together. We’ve discussed literally everything from soup to nuts, and you discovered, with me, bits of food and cooking history and trivia. Remember the alphabet of ideas?

I hope, if it hasn’t been useful for cooking, the columns at least made for good conversation.

I’ve tried to encourage the concept of sharing food, as well as sharing our hearts and souls. I believe the dining table has magical connective powers like no other space on Earth. That’s why I still work 12- to16-hour days catering, so I can help bring the magic.

I know I’ll be seeing some readers at events they’ve planned with my hubbie, The Chef Instead.

Another wonderful part of this journey has been sharing local haunts and I hope you’ll continue to search out new places and support current ones. Independent businesses rely on local fans to visit them and sing their praises to friends and neighbours. Please keep sharing your favourites.

Lastly, I’ve tried to encourage a healthy lifestyle that involved more dishes with more ingredients than processed food. However, a good quality donut or dessert is definitely worth indulging in, if you want this gourmand’s opinion. My latest inspiration is haskap berries from Farmer John’s Market in Grindrod—there is pie à la mode in my future.

Although you won’t see my column here, I will still be the Happy Gourmand and you can still follow my blog or my page on Facebook or Instagram. If you see me around town, I hope you’ll say hi.

And so, one last time, I wish you bon appetit - not just for the meals you’ll be having this summer but also that you have a hearty appetite for new culinary adventures and other ways to share a happy life.

Thank you for letting me share mine.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.

Remembering summer holiday fun from the past

School's out for summer

Photo: Pixabay

The joys of camping

Last week, we had our final meeting with our little Sparks from Girl Guides, going fishing in Shannon Lake. The girls were full of beans for a few weeks, so an outside meeting was a great idea.

The current weather hasn’t been quite what we’d usually expect for the end of June, but the anticipation of summer can survive wind, rain and most other impediments, especially if you’re a kid (or even a kid at heart).

My husband Martin and I will set out on our annual start-of-summer camping trip soon, and we got to talking about the nostalgia of camping when we were kids.

I was a kid whose family camped—first in tents and then in a borrowed tent-trailer the year we camped on Long Beach near Tofino. He grew up in a family of five kids, so his camping memories are more of going to summer camp or staying with his Grand-mère at her cabin in rural Quebec. Nevertheless, we shared memories of free days in the great outdoors, eating non-everyday foods like breakfast cereal you ate out the little box, and hot dogs over the fire for lunch.

There were parts of summer vacation that were less spectacular, such as the time spent in the car. Our Volvo station wagon didn’t have air conditioning, so my pigtails flapped in the wind from the open window. The worst thing was when our Irish Setter, Shauna (who stood in the rear section behind my brother and I) would drool on my shoulder.

Martin remembers stopping for poutine, sometimes while on the road. My Dad was a stickler for making good time, so we ate in the car most days. My mom was a wizard at packing good sandwiches that didn’t go mushy and I always marvelled at her ability to pour coffee from the Thermos while en route.

She would hand the cup to my Dad so he could grab it at his convenience. This was before the days of cup holders.

Does anyone else know the song, “Down By The Bay”? We sang so many verses of that on the road over the years. My favourite rhyme was, “Have you ever seen a moose” (pause for dramatic effect) “with his front tooth loose?”

Of course, nostalgia has a wonderful way of colouring harsh memories. They become softer over time, and yet vividly sentimental as a memento of time gone by in our lives.

At the time, I was heartbroken when my spiffy new vinyl runners melted by the campfire as we tried to dry them after a rainy day hike at Illecillewaet glacier. I swore I would never return to the “horrible” Oregon coast after my brother and I had a harrowing day with the “undertoad” in the waves, followed by a campfire so smoky we took out our snorkelling goggles. Now those are both cherished stories I tell with a smile.

As summer kicks off for kids of all ages, I wish you many moments that will fill your memory banks. Maybe you’ll be making new stories or perhaps you’ll be recounting them for kids or grandkids. The social media memes may sound trite, but they’re often right when it comes to stuff like:

1. Eating s’mores (just watch where you wave that melted marshmallow)

2. Jumping off a dock (feet first, we can be safe and silly at the same time)

3. Singing songs (even if no one else joins in, you’re setting a joyous example)

As a closing note, I want to mention that next week will be my last column.

It’s been a joy to share my rants, random thoughts and recipes over the years but it’s time for me to focus on other projects. You will still find me on Facebook or Instagram if you’re into that or I might see you at a local food spot.

I’ll finish with a proper flourish next week like a good foodie, saving the big finale for the end.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.

Much to be learned from Winnie The Pooh and his friends

The wisdom of Pooh

Isn’t it funny how some things keep coming back to you throughout your life?

I have a good friend who says life keeps presenting lessons to us until we learn from them. I was reminded of her expression amidst the sound bites of speeches by famous people talking to college graduates. Life is all about what we learn from it.

Photo: Contributed

For some The Winnie the Pooh stories are more than just stories for kids.

I have always liked a simple version of how to look at life, much like seeing the glass half-empty or half-full. I am a fan of Winnie the Pooh and his simple wisdom. As a fellow gourmand, I love the fact that Pooh saw not just a glass but rather a pot of honey. (Some people liken Pooh’s philosophy to Tao-ism.)

Conversely, I have often thought that those who seemed to feel a storm cloud following them were a bit like Pooh’s friend, Eeyore the donkey. “Poor Eeyore”, as he was often known, always seemed to be awaiting impending doom, and of course, he was rarely disappointed. He lost his tail, he got broken birthday presents. The guy really had bad luck.

What point am I getting at, you ask? These characters are great examples of how our approach to life can affect our experiences. I am reminded of one of my favourite speeches given to students, and it referenced Pooh and his friends. Have you ever heard of Randy Pausch?

Pausch was a professor who had terminal cancer and decided to give his best advice to his students, not on formal education but on how to learn to enjoy life. He told his students they should decide whether they wanted to be a Tigger or an Eeyore.

Tigger was even more bouncy and positive than Pooh – more of a North American motivator than Eastern one—like a Richard Simmons to Pooh’s Buddha. You can look it up, it’s called “The Last Lecture”.

The lecture was given years ago but I believe its positivity is well-suited for our time, when negativity seems to have become more common for many reasons. That made me think of Eeyore and what cheered him up.

Look at how the world worked for A. E. Milne’s characters: Pooh enjoyed a bit of sustenance in a pot of honey. Piglet enjoyed his “haycorns.” Rabbit enjoyed his garden. Owl enjoyed his books. Tigger enjoyed bouncing. And Kanga enjoyed taking care of little Roo. Roo enjoyed it all. The best part of all was they enjoyed each other’s company.

Eeyore was happiest when his friends remembered him. On his birthday, the balloon Piglet gave him – “of a perfect size and colour” – was reduced to shreds when Piglet tripped and fell. But Eeyore got a big thrill of putting it in and taking it out of the empty honey pot Pooh gave him. After all, if you have friends to share your experiences, then even the storm clouds don’t seem so bad.

So, here’s my gourmand advice for this week: Share a pot of honey, take time to bounce with your friends and remember to learn the lesson life puts in front of you. That means if you enjoy it, you need to do more of it.

For those who like honey, here’s a recipe to keep you going.

Best Friend Banana Bread

1/2 cup / 125 mL butter

3/4 cup / 375 mL sugar

1/2 cup / 125 mL honey

2-3 ripe bananas

2 eggs

2 cups / 500 g flour

1/2 tsp / 3 mL baking powder

1/2 tsp / 3 g ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp / 3 mL baking soda

1/2 tsp / 3 mL vanilla extract

3/4 cup / 185 mL milk

optional: 1 cup chopped nuts and/or 1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 375 F/ 190 C. Grease a loaf pan or bundt pan.

Sift flour and mix with baking powder and cinnamon. Mix in nuts and/or chocolate chips if you are using them.

Cream sugar, honey and butter in a mixer or large bowl. Beat in mashed bananas and eggs until well blended. Add in dry ingredients at low speed and mix just until smooth. Add vanilla and baking soda to milk in measuring cup, then mix gradually with batter.

Pour batter into pan and bake on middle rack for 1 hour, turning halfway through. Loaf is done when a knife inserted in centre comes out clean. (If you have a thermometer, internal temperature should be 195 F.)

Loosen loaf from pan with a spatula and turn out on wire rack to cool. Best served in the company of a few friends.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.

The joys of working in the garden

Gardeners have grit

Photo: Kristin Peturson-Laprise

The author's garden.

As I was crouched down in the dirt for the umpteenth time this week, pulling weeds and watching for pests, it occurred to me that gardening is not for the faint of heart.

Mother Nature is a tough taskmaster. The rewards we get from beautiful blossoms and a delicious bounty are wonderful, but they only come at her mercy.

I love the peace I find in amongst the plants, and the sense of accomplishment I get from my time is manyfold. I go from planting seeds and nurturing them to enjoying the sight of blooms and fruit, the smells of fresh food and flowers and the tastes and textures unique to our little piece of the world.

But there are days when I am battle weary. Ever since we moved here, and every spring since, I’ve had to launch an offensive against my nemesis, the burdock. It brought a friend the following year—wild mallow. After 16 years of gardening here at Rabbit Hollow, I also have crab grass, chickweed, bedstraw, leafy spurge and most recently, Western salsify (like dandelions on steroids) and the nefarious bindweed.

When I was a kid, dandelions and a bit of chickweed were the worst things that could happen in my mom’s garden. On a recent day weeding, I thought of this comparison and felt rather defeated. All of this is just getting harder, I thought. What’s the point of pulling weeds when they just come back?

But I’m a naturally pragmatic person. Giving up on the garden once I’d started would just waste my efforts thus far. So, I continued, thinking that perhaps my diligence and resilience to facing obstacles comes from the summers my mom had me helping her in the garden when I was little. It’s not easy work but then many things with great return are like that. I choose to believe it’s worth the work.

Gardening has certainly made me more appreciative of farmers. As a gourmand, I take interest in food from the farm all the way to the table and living in the Okanagan has shown me such a journey is not to be taken for granted. It sounds romantic but like any good romance, the part that makes it work is the blood, sweat and tears.

I learned from a neighbouring farmer that a bit of ruthlessness on our part is needed, too. I used to be sympathetic for the “volunteers” in the garden – those heirloom plants that reseed themselves and pop up in following years, willy nilly wherever they like. Things got a bit out of hand, with the volunteers overtaking the intended garden residents.

“A weed for us is any plant that is growing where it is not supposed to be,” the farmer told me.

That made it easier to pull those volunteers, thanking them for their service and telling them they were no longer needed there (Full disclosure: I am not completely cold-hearted, many were transplanted or gifted to fellow gardeners).

Animals are part of the scene too and I do my best to keep things balanced in that part of our ecosystem. I have four different water features, two more suited for the birds and two for the bees. I don’t mind the odd leaf munched but if any creature gets greedy, then soapy water or powdered chilis or cinnamon might get sprinkled around.

Touch wood, so far, the deer have left us alone and I only had one year when the moles ate my beets from underneath, leaving me nothing but a bit of beet skin and leaves. I hear the marmots whistling from up the hill, but they seem too lazy to come all the way here.

I used to dread the start of summer, when my mom would conscript me to help tidy up the flower beds and hoe the back car stall to plant the veggies. One year we drove out to the country to find rocks so she could landscape the backyard garden. But now I’m ever so grateful for those experiences.

Gardening taught me resilience, perseverance, and yes, gratitude. It is a topic used for many proverbs and sayings and I can see why. As someone said, “Gardening is cheaper than therapy, and you get tomatoes.”

I’ll close with this sentiment from author Lucy Maud Montgomery, to potter with green growing things, watching each day to see the dear, new sprouts come up, is like taking a hand in creation, I think. Just now my garden is like faith—the substance of things hoped for.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.