Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Soup of La Mancha

Unlike the Man of La Mancha, the soup of La Mancha (or rather gazpacho, an Andalusian specialty) is a delicious soup, served cold, consisting mainly of tomatoes. Other than its origins (Spanish) the Man of La Mancha has very little to do with the soup as it is, in fact, a musical based on the life of Don Quixote.


I discovered gazpacho early on in life and like with most good things have been making it ever since. I forgot about it for a while, mentally constricted as I was to the confines of the city, but something about the country air here reminded me of it and what an antidote it could be.

To a hot,  summer's day that is. 

Made of diced, puréed and then  chilled tomatoes, red peppers, cucumbers, garlic, a little apple cider vinegar, salt and pepper (or so my recipe goes), gazpacho is the perfect thing to make when the last thing you want to do is create more heat by turning on the stove or even worse, oven.





I've had a somewhat unhealthy obsession with pinterest of late, and that, combined with the heat and my inexorable laziness introspection, have led me to accomplishing less than I wanted to. I have ticked a few things off my summer to-do list though, including taking pictures of the quaint homes in the area. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in the Gilmore Girls' town.






Other times, less so.





On a side note, Moving Day, Part Deux, the sequel and long-awaited summer blockbuster, comes out this Saturday! Wish me luck... 



Saturday, July 21, 2012

Hog town hold'em

Apparently poker and motorcycles go together like peanut butter and jelly, or so I learned at the annual poker run held by a friend of my beau's. A poker run is an event where participants, using motorcycles, boats or even horses, visit a series of checkpoints (and by checkpoints I mean bars) drawing a card at each one. The object (or one of the objects) is to have the best poker hand at the end of the run.

I participated in my first ever poker run this past weekend, starting at the Harley Davidson store in Shawinigan and ending at a méchoui in La Tuque. It was my fifth time on a bike but the first time I had ever been on (the back of) one for more than an hour.

Like six hours.

But the experience was amazing. And even more than that it was nostalgic because the route we took to get to Trois-Rivières, where we met up with two other couples, was the same route we used to take to get to my family's cottage near Montebello. Riding through Thurso, Papineauville and Fassett I imagined myself coming in the opposite direction, as a little girl in the back seat of my grandfather or father's car, and couldn't help but smile at the serendipity of it all.




Life, I mean.

But riding a Harley, or hog, isn't all about metaphysical musings. During a poker run, it's also about community, a healthy dose of competition, good times and good friends. For me, it was mostly about experiencing something that I never could have imagined possible. Me, on the back of a bike, in a big group of bikers, playing hog town hold'em.  









Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Maine memories

I've never been to Maine, but I have very fond memories of it, along with Coney Island, the New Jersey shore and California. Beach movies like Stealing Home, A Summer Place, Annie Hall ("My analyst says I exaggerate my childhood memories, but I swear I was brought up underneath the roller-coaster in the Coney Island section of Brooklyn. Maybe that accounts for my personality, which is a little nervous, I think," recounts Woody Allen as Alvy Singer) and even Jaws are likely most responsible for the image I have of quintessential American beaches.

Hot dogs, amusement parks and family resorts are definitely part of the image and since I've had the very good fortune of living "the beach life" the past few weeks in Aylmer, I decided to up the ante and make the ultimate Maine treat: lobster rolls. 

To make the crustacean delights, I used freshly cooked (and painstakingly de-shelled by my wonderful beau) lobster meat, some mayonnaise, lemon juice, salt and pepper. I also used a few small pickles, finely cubed for crunch and flavour. The pièce de résistance is of course the grilled hot dog rolls which provide the perfect culinary combination of high-class cuisine and down-home food truck grub. My favourite.








By the way, just in case you were curious, the beach life involves sleeping in, packing a cooler full of good food (and drinks), stuffing a bathing suit and towel in my beach bag and heading to the beach for a nice read in the sun (so far, I’ve gotten through A Clash of Kings, the second in the A Song of Ice and Fire series, Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda, This Will Be Difficult to Explain by Johanna Skibsrud and Anatomy of a Disappearance by Hisham Matar).

The lake life, which I’m also living, means doing pretty much the same but going to the lake—Meech Lake, to be specific but totally non-political—and cooling off with a swim. Maine memories. Now that’s the life. 







Next time it’s going to be a delicious, chilled gazpacho soup that’s the perfect antidote to a hot, summer day but before that I can’t wait to tell you about my crazy weekend, Daughters of Anarchy styles...

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

The accidental tourist


There’s nothing sweeter than feeling like a tourist in your own city—like when you’ve just moved somewhere new and are dying to explore its every nook and cranny or when you know you’re leaving, and everything you took for granted (or even hated) suddenly seems unique and makes you feel nostalgic. That’s me right now… a tourist in La Belle Province’s most cosmopolitan city: Montreal. 

                                                                            
While I usually like nothing better than spending the entire weekend holed up at home enjoying the finer things in life (!) I’ve been making an effort to get out and about and soak up everything Montreal in the summer has to offer. First it was the Mt. Royal and St. Laurent street festivals followed by dumplings in Chinatown. Then it was the new Clock Tower Beach in the Old Port. 










The reason I’m a tourist in my own city is because I’m moving to parts unknown (somewhere in Gatineau) to be with my beau. I have a million things to do, both at work and at home, before leaving but all I wanna do is have some fun (like Sheryl Crowe).

I created this blog with the goal of chronicling my move from the city to the country, hence its clever name, and I sincerely hope to build up the drive to post on a regular basis. There are so many blogs that I enjoy on a daily basis, like Cupcakes and Cashmere, Lost in Translation and The Nomad’s Land, and I hope to create something that at least one person finds joy in. 

Wish me luck!