When I crave something exotic with intense flavour my thoughts turn to Thai food. This dish fulfills my craving. It is at once sweet and sour, hot and spicy. It is a simple recipe with just a few easily obtainable ingredients. The wonderful thing about this Thai Style Ground Pork is that it can be an appetizer or a main course. I share this recipe on my food blog MRS BUTTERFINGERS.
Every day my daughter and I were in Paris, we shopped the open air food markets. Laden with gorgeous cheese, wonderful bread, pastries and patés we would carry our booty back to our hotel. Elegant double doors opened onto a small balcony. All of Paris was spread before us. A split of champagne, a nibble of this, a hunk of that, we were in food heaven.
Today Theadora of http://peopleplacesandbling.com gives us all the scoop to be a savvy shopper in the open air food markets of Paris. Our supermarkets pale in comparison. So orderly, so plastic wrapped, so boring. Forget shopping for lingerie at La Perla. Shop the food markets and eat your way through Paris.
BEL’OCCHIO (THE BEAUTIFUL EYE)
“YOU HAVE JUST PASSED BY HAPPINESS”
“Sometimes, our thoughts turn back toward to a corner in a forest,
or the end of a bank,
or an orchard powdered with flowers, seen but a single time on some gay day,
yet remaining in our hearts like the image of certain women met in the street on a spring morning in their light, gauzy dresses,
and leaving in soul and body an unsatisfied desire which is not to be forgotten,
a feeling that you have just passed by happiness. “
(Mother Savage – Guy de Maupassant)
” …..you have just passed by happiness.”
I grew up in an old and elegant town on the edge of the Great Northern Forest. Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, was built by “second sons” and adventurers from Britain.
On the hill they created a world of magnificent homes with ballrooms, sterling silver chandeliers, porte-cocheres for waiting carriages, and red clay tennis courts.
On the flat up from the river on Central Avenue they built a Gothic City Hall, an impressive Post Office, and crowned the top of the avenue with the stern Court House; infamous for the place they hung Louis Riel.
One side of the City Hall the street had watering troughs for horses. The taps were lion’s heads verdigris with age, water trickling from their gaping mouths into deep troughs. On a hot summer day we would plunge our arms into the cooling water. Each side of the trough large iron rings were imbedded in the concrete curbs. Teamsters would water their horses then tie the reins to the rings.
On the other side of our City Hall magic happened. Every summer Sunday night the local city band resplendent in red and gold uniforms played, and we sang and waltzed and marched to the music.
Sunday night band concert was a traditional family outing. The shiny Black Beast of a car, complete with tasselled blinds and flower holders, carried my two sisters, myself, and Scamp the family dog, down town.
At the foot of Central Avenue the Fire Hall stood guard.
First stop on Central Avenue, McConnell’s; part cigar store, part magazines and newspapers, and most important part ice cream parlor.It was a long, narrow store with creaking wood floors and the heady aroma of cigars and newsprint. At the back of the store you could sit on wire ice-cream chairs at small round marble tables, and have fountain drinks and ice cream. On Sunday night the big treat was ice cream cones. We had an ice box at home , kept cool with a block of ice cut from the river. Keeping ice cream in it was out of the question. We would stroll down Central Avenue excited about the band concert, and trying to make our ice cream cones last as long as possible. I always had cherry custard. It’s still my favorite.
As the shadows lengthened our band concert under the stars would come to an end. The band would play God Save the King. We would stand very still and very straight. The men would take their hats off. Then reluctantly and slowly we would make our way back to the Black Beast of a car, humming the music and taking the magic of the band concert with us.
Tucked away in a crowded consignment shop fellow treasure- hunter Dellis and I spotted this charming naif oil painting.
The strong faces of the women,
The yawning young boy,
The popcorn man and his brilliant wagon,
Made us smile.
They said “take us home,
Hang us on your wall”.
Church is over.
Families visit outside St. Irene Chrysovalantou Greek Orthodox Church at Danforth and Gough in Toronto.
The back of the painting had a little information. D.S. Payne had painted this in November 1987.
Payne has captured the essence of Toronto in this vignette of life in Greek Town.
Toronto is my second home.
I love the strongly defined ethnic neighborhoods. In Toronto I live close to the Portuguese and Italian neighborhoods. When we want great Greek food we go to the Danforth.
It’s what Toronto is all about.
A wonderful mosaic of ethnic neighborhoods. Each an adventure waiting to be explored.
Memories hanging on the wall.
Sunday in the Danforth.
Indeed, a treasure.
The perennial garden was long over due for a make-over. Two dying rhododendrons, more than thirty years old, needed removal. It was a grunt job that would take The Good Husband several hours of deep digging.
The log retainers need removal, also. This was going to take all day.
“Not so” said my friend and neighbor. We’ll bring in the big guns.
The Good Husband and the Good Neighbor hustle the logs away.
This will be the first tree to be removed. Good Neighbor Perry will finesse the job without damaging the Japanese maple.
Thirty minutes later – the deep-rooted rhododendrons are cleared. We were so grateful to Good Neighbor Perry who took the time to bring in “the big guns”. And, He has another present for me - several loads of well rotted manure and earth. Nothing makes a gardeners heart beat faster than a load of manure. It promises to be a glorious new garden. Bring on summer.
Crimson and gold velvet curtains hang heavy over the glass doors.
They are serious, rather formal.
They shut out the gloom of winter
And mirror the warming flames from the big stone fireplace.
I drew back the curtains.
April sunshine, glorious, gladdening sunshine.
A morning sunshine that called for curtains that would billow
and dance with every gust of spring breezes.
Tucked away awaiting the day
A pair of too long, leggy yellow linen curtains.
Ten foot curtains for an eight foot window.
You see these romantic flop over curtains in many of the French home magazines.
This is how to achieve that so chic French look.
Cut off the old pleating tape. Cut the curtains to the correct size allowing for romantic pooling on the bottom.
Put a new hem on the wide strip left over from shortening the curtains. Press the hem
Sewed new tape on the back of the long curtains. Then sewed the strip on to the back of the curtains so it would flop and flounce over to the front when you hang the curtains. . Press this seam well.
I pulled the tape to adjust it to the open width and fastened the string ends.
Now pour yourself a glass of wine and sew the rings on. Finished.
You can find tape like this at most fabric stores. This header tape creates pleats but you also can find tape that simply gathers.
The left over fabric makes a romantic soft ruffle. Not a bit of linen wasted!!
I call these my daffodil curtains.
“My heart with pleasure fills”.
Curtains
“Fluttering and dancing in the breeze”.
(William Wordsworth 1804)
This is not a subject women like to talk about. A few weeks ago I mustered up my courage to speak openly about a surgical procedure I had just under gone. As a result of this blog I was contacted by a medical site in the United States. They asked if I would consent to do an interview and talk about the procedure. Of course.! I had gone this far and if I could help just one women then my blog would be a success. I recently learned that a woman in Alaska is taking steps to become a “free woman”. I wish her much success and a less stressful life.
Go to the site below for my frank interview and more information.
http://vaginal-surgery.info (home page) or to your story page (http://vaginal-surgery.info/urinary-incontinence-surgery.html).
My original post ….
It has been three weeks since my surgery. Like many woman I endured urinary incontinence for many years. I’ve had two children and am in my seventies. I am thrilled to say I no longer obsess over bathroom locations when shopping. I am not constantly sending pants to the dry cleaners. I am now a liberated woman and it is wonderful. I feel it is important to share this information with the woman who read my blog.
One of the biggest unresolved issues in the treatment of female urinary incontinence is women’s reluctance to discuss the issue with their doctors. Those commercials for Depends don’t help either. Do you really, really want to spend the rest of your life wearing diapers even if you can dance in them? By talking about the problem more women can get the treatment they need so incontinence doesn’t have to interfere with their daily lives.
There are several treatment options depending on the type of urinary incontinence. This is something you will have to discuss with your doctor. My surgical procedure was the insertion of a sling. The surgery took 15 minutes, and I was home a few hours later. My surgical procedure is a couple of years old. It was performed by the doctor who had perfected it, Dr David Wilkie, MD FRCSC, Clinical Professor, Vancouver Urogynecology and Pelvic Reconstructive Surgery. You can read about it on his website.
Please share this information with your friends so they know an issue most women have endured is one that usually can be successfully treated.
Chocolate Easter Eggs
In a basket.
Nestled in green cellophane grass.
White gloves ready for church.
I put on my new hat.
Pale yellow straw rimmed round with blue ribbon.
Shiny, shiny licorice black Mary Jane’s.
Wiggle my toes.
Crisp organdy shirt waist.
Pleated skirt.
I dance and twirl before the reflection in the mirror.
The image smiles back.
Just one bite of my chocolate rabbit.
Perhaps a nibble on the ear.
The bells of St. Alban’s peal out in joy.
I’m off to church.
(memories of Easter 1943)
“By my bed, on a little round table,
The Grandmother placed a candle.
She gave me three kisses telling me they were three dreams
And tucked me in just where I loved being tucked.
Then she went out of the room and the door was shut.
I lay still, waiting for my three dreams to talk;
But they were silent.
Suddenly I remembered giving her three kisses back.
Perhaps, by mistake, I have given my three little dreams.
I sat up in bed.
The room grew big, oh, bigger far than a church.
The wardrobe, quite by itself, as big as a house.
And the jug on the washstand smiled at me:
It was not a friendly smile.
I looked at the basket-chair where my clothes lay folded:
The chair gave a creak as though it were listening for something.
Perhaps it was coming alive and going to dress in my clothes.
But the awful thing was the window:
I could not think what was outside.
No tree to be seen, I was sure.
No nice little plant or friendly pebbly path.
Why did she pull the blind down every night?
It was better to know.
I crunched my teeth and crept out of bed.
I peeped through a slit of blind.
There was nothing at all to be seen
But hundreds of friendly candles all over the sky
In remembrance of frightened children.
I went back to bed …
The three dreams started singing a little song.”
(The Candle - a poem by Catherine Mansfield)
Bel’ Occhio’s Blog
