FROSTY FRIDAY IN . . . SASKATOON (But Harvest Done)

The first frost of this season arrived, overnight, as predicted. Down to -1°C (that's 30F), but with the wind chill, -7C (or 19F).  While it was cool outside, the basement was toasty warm. The gas stove, set on thermostat, turned itself on (and off) at the right times. Thankfully.

I did manage to get the last of the tomatoes and carrots harvested yesterday, ahead of the frost.

This year's crop of carrots is reasonable.

The tomatoes, however, are mostly small and green,

the result of a wet, cold summer. Some of these are actually small varieties; most are not, sadly.

The good news is the carrots are good eating, and I have a Canadian recipe for Green Tomato Chutney. The chutney is made primarily with green tomatoes, a couple of apples, and some odds and ends, including raisins and a tiny bit of ginger.

Now, please, could someone tell me with what one would eat with such a chutney? Thank you.

P.S.: Now, another frost warning for tonight.

Footnote:
This is the time of year when Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie, goes a bit "nuts," chasing after leaves as they skitter along the ground. If I suddenly disappear from the blogging world, it's likely because of a dislocated shoulder or elbow, or perhaps stress fractures of the wrist or hand, achieved while accompanying Her Ladyship. Please Bear with me in my absence, should that occur.

ALL IN THE MERRY MONTH OF APRIL

We awoke this morning to a glorious spring day.

 

Thought I suppose "glorious," like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Admittedly, Sadie was a little perplexed, but  I didn't try to explain; she's much less concerned about weather than I am.

  

Anyhow, had breakfast, got dressed, cleaned the show off the wagon, and went to worship at St. George's Anglican Church — all of six blocks from our house. (I'd have walked if there was less snow.) My friend, Fr. S, recently became Associate Priest there, which I just learned a few days ago. So I went to early Communion. And I'm glad I did.

  

Well, then, what to do with the rest of the day, when it's not the right weather for working outside. 

  

I did something I haven't done for 20+ years. I got out my art supplies and put some paint on paper.

This isn't art. Art is what artists (or "artistes") do. Putting colour on paper is what Bears do. J was already painting when I got home from worship, so I decided to join her, and we had a grand morning. 

  

After lunch I had a snooze, and when I woke up, I put the roast, potatoes, and yams on the roasting pan (then in the oven) for supper. I went upstairs and found K, our granddaughter, had joined us for the afternoon. So she played at a whole range of things, and I played a bit more with paint. Then I got my banjo out (something else I haven't done for a while) and we sat in a circle and sang. (We got out some rhythm instruments so we could all sing and play.)

(Just to make sure you understand, I am not the re-incarnation of George Formby or "Banjo" Patterson.)

  

After supper, K went home. J and I focused on some DIY projects — and by then it was bed time. So I quick finished this off — and now it's yours. 

  

(BTW, by mid afternoon the snow melted, then it started snowing again. That's when I decided to take Sadie for a walk — bad planning. After that, the snow turned to rain, about the time Sadie and I went for our evening walk. Yes, more bad planing.)

   

It was a very different day, but a very enjoyable one. I think I'm going to try this more often. I think J is, too.

HANGOVER

It's Day 16 of the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, Canada. Things got off to a bit of a slow start, but picked up — at least from the Canadian perspective. We've now won or are assured of 20 medals or so. Not the 30 that the politicians wanted us to win, but nothing too shabby, either. (I think this may be close to a "National Best.")

There's been lots to celebrate in the last few days. A gold and silver in Womens' Bobsleigh. Gold in Womens' Hockey. Silver in Womens' Curling, after a heartbreaking last shot. Back-to-back victories in Mens' Hockey (which means we will get either gold or silver, tomorrow, playing the USA). A chance for gold in Men's Curling tonight.

For those who are into celebrating, there's lots to celebrate. If Bear were into Mead, Bear would probably have a hangover, like a lot of other people.

But Bear isn't "into" Mead.

Bear's hangover is more troubling.


Spring thaw has begun. Water is dripping from the melting snow on the roof, then freezing at night. The evestroughs (gutters) are plugged; the water is falling on the ground, leaving a long icy path from front to back of house —


and coating the back stairs.


It is a challenge for man and beast (or, in this case, Bear and Dog) to come and go in safety.

So, how do we get out for our thrice a day walks?

VERY carefully.

§ § §

Hark! The kitchen timer sounds. The peanut butter cookies are ready.

If one cannot do useful things outside, once can attempt to do useful things inside.

IN WHICH ROB-BEAR ATTEMPTS TO MAKE SOUP — AND SURVIVES

I don't often get bored. What with beloved wife, two dogs, house and grounds to maintain, two interesting children, two darling grandchildren, several ethics committees on which I serve, and friends to visit (in person and on line), life is quite full.

However, much of that came to a screeching halt two weeks ago, when I had eye surgery.

Some things are much better. I can see to do thing around the house, for example. But reading actually takes a magnifying glass in hand. Sherlock Holmes I am not. VERY frustrating!

So instead of reading, I thought I would try to do something totally different. Make pea soup.

I've never tried that before. But there's a first time for anything — in my case, anything appropriate. So why not try making soup?

I found what looked like a good recipe. I could read it with a magnifying glass. Seemed healthy and hearty.

So I scurried about, gathering up the necessary ingredients. And got to it.

Put the peas in a big pot (two cups peas, six cups water), boil, then simmer for an hour and a half. No problem.

But as I looked at them more carefully, they looked a bit odd. So picked up the package and the magnifying glass to check the label.

Green LENTILS.

Right. Not exactly what we were expecting.

So I left the lentils to simmer and took Sadie for a walk. Trying to clear my head. Think . . . think . . .think, like old Pooh Bear.

Sudenly I remember seeing another pea soup recipe which said one could substitute lentils for peas and get a satisfactory soup.

YES! Problem is now in hand.

After cooking the lentils for about half the required time, they were quite soft but not mushy. I suppose for real lentil or pea soup one wants them mushy. But I have no experience with "mushy peas." And, frankly, as one who prefers his pasta «al dente», this looked just fine. And the lentils were the preferred consistency.

While the lentils were simmering, I got the rest of the ingredients ready. Chicken (instead of pork hock), carrot and celery thinly sliced, garlic, lemon juice (lemon juice?), spices. Yet in the very middle, "1 onion, finely chopped."

Onions are a challenge for me at the best of times. But right after eye surgery? "Cruel and unusual puishment," I say. (Right after I got all the additional ingredients into the pot, and got it boiling again, I reached for the various eye drops I take to prevent problems with my eye, and dripped them in, one at a time!)

In the end, I ejected the bay leaf (which was, magically, sitting right on top) and tried a small bowl. There was a certain je ne sais quois about it. It was all right, but needed something. I ground some fresh pepper and added it. Didn't quite do the trick. Hmmmm . . . And a few rice crackers didn't help much either. Altogether a bit too bland. But better bland than too spicy!

Still and all, I've got several packages of soup in the freezer, to pull out for lunch on a cold day. We're supposed to be geting some of those in a bit. This is winter in Canada, you realize.

And my eye is OK, right now. I hope it will be in the morning.