Simple, elegant, healthy food and a fondness for gluten- and grain-free recipes
I wouldn’t say I hate winter squash, as in the way former president George Bush famously hates broccoli.
It’s not something on my regular grocery list either.
Is it the texture I don’t care for? Partly, yes. I also find winter squash to be, well, stodgy. My tastes in vegetables, even on the dreariest winter day, run to lighter flavors and greener colors. Give me some stir-fried beans or kale any time, especially with a smashed garlic clove and a squeeze of lemon….
It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. Long days at the computer to meet a series of deadlines. And then, to take advantage of the unusually dry weather lately, getting outside on the weekends and going on hikes.
One hike in particular, the Stawamus Chief, has a certain appeal to Bob. It’s a challenging hike, a steady 600 meter elevation climb, and the views are spectacular at the top on a clear day….
It’s Thanksgiving weekend here, and I’m thinking of turkey. More specifically, since Bob is in charge of roasting the turkey, I’m thinking about all the dishes that round out the dinner.
Like what to have as a before-dinner snack that won’t be too filling? Shall I stick with my tried-and-true Brussels sprouts with garlic and lemon or try something different? And oh yes, I need to get on with the cranberry relish today so tomorrow will be a little less hectic. Oh the things I daydream about.
Also, the gorgeous weather outside is making me want to go out and do something other than putter around in the kitchen. We won’t have many dry, sunny days left in the year, I know. It’s a great afternoon for a slow walk down South Granville street, with a stop for a cappuccino.
Okay, let’s cut to the chase then….
What a crazy couple of weeks in late December. Like you said, Eve, much of it was happy and festive. But having Mom in hospital for almost a week with pneumonia over the holidays shook me up, maybe more than it should have.
Sitting with her in the hospital around lunchtime on Christmas Day was the worst part. Not because her condition had deteriorated. The antibiotics had started to work and she was getting better, well enough to be leaving the hospital in a few days if her progress continued.
For me it was that although she’d dodge this pneumonia, she won’t ever be herself again. Nothing like she was before Alzheimer’s struck. This isn’t news, of course. She hasn’t been herself for years, to the point that I doubt she knows who any of us are anymore.
I thought back to Christmases when I was growing up, when Mom was such a force. The one who was busy for weeks with shopping, baking, staying up late wrapping presents. She pulled everything together to ensure that we enjoyed Christmas, whether we were ripping open the carefully wrapped presents under the tree or tucking in to a feast of well-loved dishes that we had only once a year.
This Christmas Day, when I sat with her listening to Elvis’ Christmas Album (she always loved Elvis) and trying to get her to eat, I felt extra sad about all we had lost over the past several years.
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