Applewood Cottage, the Macarena and Pete the Pet

Sometimes you strike out when staying away from home (see my other blog http://www.kidsinvictoria.com/blog/author/janepotter/ for an example of a hotel stay FAIL). And sometimes you find the greatest little place ever. Last weekend we were in Courtenay to attend a party and needed somewhere to stay. You can read about my ridiculous anxiety at the prospect of Jacob babysitting, over at my blog at Kids in Victoria but here I would just like to go on for a bit about how lovely  Applewood Cottage, is.

Kent had lured us there with the promise of a ski trip on Saturday and a party Saturday night. Sounded pretty good to me but unfortunately, the ski trip was a no-go as the warm wet weather was not working in Mt. Washington’s favour. Kent went up the mountain on Friday and then promptly came right back down so we didn’t even bother. But the party was great although Kent may disagree as I took the opportunity to drag him onto the dance floor to perform the Macarena, which he did not know how to do and, I might add, still does not know how to do despite my attempts to coach him through the whole thing. It must have been hilarious to watch me yelling out commands to him like “HEAD”, and “CROSS TO HIPS” and “SHIMMY JUMP, AND TURN”. He made a valiant attempt  and received a prize from the DJ for his efforts. I think he will thank me the next time we are at an event where participation in the Macarena is encouraged. In fact, perhaps the next time we are at your house, you could play the song and announce that everyone must now stop what they are doing and do the Macarena a Kent needs to practice.

Back to the cottage. So the kids and I drove up on Friday night (which took 4 yes FOUR hours from Victoria due to the traffic and rain) and promptly fell in love with this place. It was a goat barn at one point but happily, retains no sensory evidence of this fact.

The owners have managed to restore this old barn to a beautiful little cottage. The attention to detail is awesome: reclaimed windows, windy stairs, lights in all the right places, comfy beds, and the best part, the kitchen was stocked with fresh bread, fruit, cream in a cute little bottle, fresh apple juice, homemade jam, butter, yogurt, tea and coffee. There was a cupboard full of games, puzzles and movies. I would like to report that I actually completed a 300 piece puzzle over the course of two days with only Zoe to help me as both Jacob and Kent declared puzzles to be ‘boring’ and a ‘waste of time’. Well, maybe they are a little boring but once I start, I must finish. The puzzle was of a painting of a bunch of pets. When I looked at the title of the puzzle, I read ‘Pete’s Party’ and then spent the entire time wondering which of the pets was named Pete. Was it the Gerbil? No, that seemed unlikely. Maybe the Rabbit? Pete the Rabbit? Nope. Perhaps it was Pete the Ferret? Hmmm…maybe not. And so it went. I seriously spent time on this question. I even wondered why they were having a party. Perhaps it was Pete the Hamster’s birthday. Or maybe he had just bought a new cage and was having all the other pets round to celebrate. The mind wanders when involved in inane activities…or mine does anyway. It wasn’t until it was time to go and I was putting the puzzle back in the box (‘See’ said Jacob ‘It’s pointless’) that I noticed it actually said “Pets Party’ not ‘Pete’s Party).  I was both mildly relieved and disappointed to realize that none of the pets was called Pete. What can I say other than I do think Pete is a good name for a pet and I will encourage that name next time I am asked for my opinion on this subject (you’ve been warned).

Part of our relaxing weekend included a trip to the awesome town of Cumberland. This place is so cool. It used to be the home of the many employees of the nearby Coal Mine which was active until 1966. The town has lots of great little shops and places to eat, and you can also see the remains of what was once the fifth largest Chinatown in BC. If you go, make sure you drive the entire length of the main road down to the part at the end which is referred to simply as ‘Camp’ by the locals. Not ‘The Camp’ or ‘Camp Street’, just ‘Camp’. The road here is lined with old coal-miner’s cottages that have been restored (sort-of) and are now home to some of Cumberland’s 3000 residents. We hung around for while although it was raining, no, it was freaking POURING, and anyway I wanted to get back to the world’s cutest cottage and finish my puzzle.

It was with sadness that we packed our bags the next morning and drove back to Victoria. I can’t wait to go back and actually would like to live there I think, with someone stocking my fridge for me and leaving fresh towels everyday…sigh.

So if you are looking for somewhere different to stay other than the No-Rest Hotel, check this place out. And, no, the owners don’t have a clue who I am.

Our breakfast. Note the wedge of Cambazola.

The window seat…note the thick soft bathrobe…

 

And finally…the silver jar of violet bath salts…sigh…

Until next time-thanks for reading,

Jane

Top 10 list for 2009

I’m going to try and remember my top 10 events from 2009 but as it is often difficult to remember what happened yesterday, please forgive me if I leave out a few key happenings…

10. Sitting on the Chunnel train and hearing 13yr old Jacob say that, when he gets older, he could maybe take a train and visit a few countries in Europe. He figures he will only need a week or so. And he could invite a friend. I suggest that he could take a couple of months instead. The best part: it’s like he’s the first person to have ever thought of doing this most excellent of rites of passage.

Jacob in Paris

9. The Portland Farmers Market. See Portland, I think I love you for more details. Must. Return. To. Portland. Farmers. Market.

Fruit stand at Portland Farmers Market

8. Watching Jacob in the SMUS Middle School production of The King of Elfland’s Daughter. He was at various times a villager, a farmer, and a troll. I had the good luck to be on duty in the Troll’s Lair backstage, otherwise known as dressing room # 4 or something like that. It was an unassuming little room quite unprepared to play host to 10 smelly 12 and 13yr old boys in various stages of undress and confusion. Despite my frequent imploring to put down their ipods and laptops (no books insight) and maybe think about getting dressed into their next costume, it always seemed to come as a surprise to them that time had passed and they needed to be on stage in like 7 seconds or whatever and that they may want to be in costume. A mad rush would ensue during which wigs, prosthetic ears and noses, tails, and these ridiculous troll feet, would fly around the small little space. Miraculously, they managed to get dressed and at least on stage in time. I would take the final 15 seconds before the curtain went up to sprint around the stage pinning crooked wigs in place and stuffing gloves onto stray hands. The effect of this troupe of trolls was brilliant and they were a highlight of the production. Actually, the whole thing was remarkable and I am still in awe of how it all came together.

7. Realizing one day that Zoe’s hair had finally started to grow. If you know Zoe, then you know what I’m talking about. The poor thing has had about 1/2 teaspoon of hair since she was born. My toothbrush was bushier than her hair. Actually, I’ve seen peaches with more hair than Zoe. And due to a rather unique growth pattern, any hair that did make an appearance seemed to prefer the top, sides and back of her head and gave the front a complete miss. That’s right, no bangs. At all.

Conversations would go like this:

Stranger: “Oh how cute!! Your daughter cut her own bangs!”

Me: “Well, no, actually she didn’t she just doesn’t have any bangs…”

Stranger: “Oh, everyone has bangs. I bet you just weren’t looking when she did it.  Ha Ha Ha!”

Me: “No, I’m pretty sure I would notice and that’s just the way her hair has grown. Or not grown as the case may be. Heh, Heh (nervous laugh)”

Stranger: “I don’t know…Sure looks like she found herself a pair of scissors… (Enter 2nd stranger ‘Carly’) Hey Carly, look at this little girl’s hair. Wouldn’t you say she chopped off her own hair there in the front? Her Mom is in denial about the whole thing but I say she should just accept it and isn’t she cute anyway look at those red curls. Ohhh my yes she’s a doll”

Me: “But she didn’t c….”

Carly: “All 15 of my kids cut their own hair at some stage or another. I wouldn’t be ashamed of it if I was you. It’s normal. Like throwing a fork at your little sister or cutting up the leather couch. Just go with it”.

At which point I would fail once more to convince them that she had not cut her own hair until Stranger and her friend Carly would look at me with a combination of pity and suspicion, and move off to the other side of the park.

However I am happy to say that all that is behind me now and Zoe no longer looks like Queen Elizabeth 1st. Still acts like her but that’s another blog.

Zoe and Izzy at the SMUS Christmas Celebration. See.

6. Swimming in the ocean at Whaling Station Bay beach on Hornby Island. So warm, so clear, I felt like I could go for miles.

5.Accomplishing  the first of two ‘Why Plan When you Can Wait Until The Last Second and then Just Go” trips. This one was to Hawaii last January. We had been toying with the idea of taking a trip somewhere warm but never quite got ourselves organized. Then, on January 2nd, we found a cheap flight to Honolulu. The only catch was that it left from Seattle the next morning. At 8am. And it was now 1:30pm. We did a mad search for flights and found nothing. I was just about to give up on the whole thing when Kent said, I’ve booked us on the Coho. We’re going to have to leave in 1hr”.

I will spare you the details but suffice to say, when one is motivated, one can pack up a family of 4 for a week’s trip to Hawaii, with a night in Seattle on either side, in 48 minutes if one really tries hard. I ran around the house like a mad woman barking out instructions left and right:

Me: “PACK YOUR BAGS”

Jacob: “What should I bri…”

Me: “I DON’T KNOW JUST SHOVE A BUNCH OF SHORTS AND STUFF IN YOUR PACK”

Zoe: “Mum where’s my pi…”

Me: “JUST DO IT AND WHERE’S MY HAIRBRUSH?”

Kent: “Have you seen my fli…”

Me: “NO I HAVE NOT SEEN YOUR FLIPPIN’ TRAVEL IRON OR WHATEVER YOU ARE LOOKING FOR. AND WHERE’S THE SUNSCREEN FROM LAST SUMMER????? HMMMM???”

Kent: “Kids I think you should just try and find your own stuff…”

We did make it to Hawaii and it was awesome. The highlight has to be me wandering around the Other’s Camp from Lost and being within spitting distance of Hurley’s van.

Hurley’s Van!

4. Packing up Kent and our friend Pepi for a 3.5 week trip to Vietnam and China. Booked flights on Monday night, flights left on Friday morning. Oh and that includes an overnighter in Vancouver for Kent so that he could be at the Chinese embassy at 5am on Wednesday or something like that so that he could get visas so that they could go to China on Friday. Oh and also that includes a rush rush job on a Vietnamese visa that arrived on Thursday. So they could leave on, did I mention, FRIDAY. It was worth it though – both declared it to be a trip of a lifetime.

3. My Lovely Neighbours. I’m soo lucky to live on this street! Fall Fairs, potluck dinners on the street, Christmas Craft Fairs, impromptu gatherings, carol singing…it’s all good!

 

2. Cementing Friendships with such a wonderful bunch of people. You all know who you are. Thanks for a great year of communal meal preparation, laughs, tears, more laughs, hikes, ski trips, Hornby Island, more laughs, more food, Donny-Tipping, more hikes, house concerts, Christmas Dinners, and the promise of more to come. Love you all so much.

Po’ Girl Roadies

We see you, Lisa :)

1. My lovely family. Jacob who has grown 64ft in the past year and makes me laugh hourly with his wicked sense of humour. Zoe who now loves to stick her nose in a book and not come out for hours, and Kent who perseveres with the house reno, apparently all by himself, (not my strong suite) with lovely results.

 

Here’s to 2010!

Gingerbread People

I love gingerbread at Christmastime. All year I look forward to making it and nurse secret fantasies of perfecting my dough recipe in, say, April, so that I can stash away balls of gingerbread dough in the freezer all year and have a ready supply come December. Of course, this never happens. When I want gingerbread, I have to start from scratch, and there is always that irritating line in the recipe: ‘chill overnight’. I always forget about that and then have to deal with disappointed Zoe who wants to make the gingerbread NOW.

Anyway. I am pleased to announce that I made some delicious (if I may say so myself) Gingerbread and would love to share the recipe with you.

4 cups all purpose flour –maybe more if your dough is too sticky.

1 cup firmly packed brown sugar

1tbsp cinnamon

1 1/2 tbsp ginger

1/2 tsp ground cloves (don’t get this one wrong or your mouth will go nice and numb)

1/2 tsp salt

3/4 teaspoon baking soda

12 tablespoons unsalted butter (or salted is fine too. This whole thing with unsalted butter – Whatever!) softened slightly and cut into chunks.

3/4 cup of unsulphered molasses (otherwise known as Fancy)

2 tbsp milk

 

Directions:

Oven at 350.

Mix the flour, spices, salt, sugar and baking soda together. Add the butter and do that combining thing where you end up with a mix of dry ingredients and butter that looks like lumpy sand.

Then add the molasses and go crazy on that puppy until it’s all mixed up. Add the milk. At this point, you will have a gloppy mess and will question your own ability to count cups of flour. Just add some more. Dump in a cup and see if things improve. You can do it! I trust you! Not like my grade 6 Home Ec teacher. What was her name? She taught at North Saanich Middle School and was about 300 years old then so she is possibly no longer with us. Damn I can’t remember her name. Anyone?? She really had a huge amount of faith in our abilities and so challenged us by including in her curriculum such items as ‘Buttered Toast’ and ‘heating up Alphagetti’. The Alphagetti one was the best. I remember Dave Martins and someone else…(another Dave, I think) laughing so hard that letters were coming out of their nostrils. Mrs. Whatsit didn’t think it was that funny.

Once you have a nice dough going on, divide it in half and wrap that sucker up in saran wrap or wax paper and stick it in the freezer. Or you could roll it out, sandwich it in wax paper and freeze it that way but who has time to do that.

It is now probably close to 11pm so that gives you plenty of time to finish the laundry, clean the kitchen, make lunches, sweep the floor, write the 3rd proof of your graduate dissertation, carve a reindeer out of soapstone, and retrieve abandoned food items from around the house while your husband surfs the internet looking for an obscure accessory for his latest gadget. (Oh, I’m kidding. That NEVER happens) before going to bed.

After you have had breakfast, take out the dough  and let it thaw. You will probably forget about it for awhile. That’s Ok. When you finally remember the dough at 7pm, roll it out to about 3/4 inch think. This dough flattens slightly when you bake it so don’t roll it too thin. It will look like this:

The flour makes it look authentic, no?

Then go crazy with your cookie cutters, like we did.

 

 

LOVE the pudgy hands :) And for all of you smart-asses out there who are right now thinking of a funny comment about how Zoe’s hands  don’t look any different than Jane’s hands, thanks very much, but I’m pretty sure I have heard all the ‘small hands’ jokes out there already.

When you are done cutting out shapes, transfer them to a non-stick baking sheet. If your baking sheet is so old that the term non-stick no longer applies, then grease it up and dust with flour and that should do the trick. Or you can use that new-fangled parchment paper but I’m afraid I’m old-skool and don't really know what that is.

Keep rolling out the scraps and cutting out shapes until it’s all used up.

Then stick them in the oven for like 15 minutes TOPS. Go read your kid a book. When you can poke their little tummies and they just spring back a little, they are done (the gingerbread people, not your kids). Take ‘em out, let them sit for a minute or so, then put them on a rack to cool.

Then eat them. Or store them in a cookie tin like I did except mine was a bit too small or I tried to fit too many in the tin and all their limbs broke off. I can now offer my guests a gingerbread head or a gingerbread leg, and my favourite, a gingerbread torso. Oh it all tastes the same in the end.

Enjoy!

Thanks for reading,

Cheers,

Jane

Shortbread Stars

Those of you who know me will know that I don’t really like to spend more time in the kitchen than is necessary. I’m not one of these model mothers who bakes everything from scratch. Well OK that is not entirely true; I am a model mother. No, just kidding, I meant I  do like to bake from scratch, I just don’t bake very often. You won’t find me whipping up a batch of muffins Sunday morning or turning out pie crusts and fresh bread every other day. Note to mothers who do this: could you please stop, you are making the rest of us look bad.

Anyway.

So when I do decide to make something, it’s usually a big ordeal. Like yesterday for example when I thought I better do some Christmas Baking because that’s what you do at this time of year. Fortunately, I do have one or two good recipes up my sleeve and I figure once every 12 months is a good time to dust them off. Plus it makes me look good in front of my kids.

“We’re making shortbread” I declared to no one in particular. “And maybe Gingerbread if you’re good”. Family members appeared out of the woodwork and we got down to business.

Shortbread is intimidating if your husband’s family has Scottish grandmothers who baked-the-best-ever-and-so-don’t-even-bother-because-yours-will-never-be-worthy Shortbread. I went through a few recipes before landing on the one on the back of the Canada Cornstarch box. This one is a winner, according to the various grandmothers and husbands who taste-tested it. I tweaked it a bit this year and it’s even better: up the butter to one cup and then double the whole recipe because if you’re like me then you’re going to want to make them a little thicker and this way you can roll them out and cut them into fun shapes.

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup cornstarch
• 1/2 cup icing sugar
• 1 cup flour
• 1 cup softened salted butter. Do not even consider using margarine. If you do, I cannot be held responsible for the bad luck that will befall you.

Directions

Sift together the cornstarch, icing (powdered) sugar and flour. Or not. Whatever. Just mix it together already! Who has time to sift anything anyway.

Cut the butter into chunks and work it through the flour mixture with your fingertips until it looks like a flour mixture with bits of lumpy butter in it. Then you can start squeezing it into a soft smooth dough. Don’t overdo it. Or better yet let your kid do this part. Their pudgy little hands look so cute…

Throw down some flour and then roll out your dough with a rolling pin. Don’t roll it any thinner than 3/4 of an inch. Seriously! It’s better this way. Cut out whatever shapes you want.

Place 1 1/2" apart on a cookie sheet.

Bake 300' for 15-18 minutes at which point you will open the oven door and declare that they can’t possibly be done yet. They are. Take them out now! Leave them to cool for a bit and then carefully transfer them to a wire rack to cool. After 30 seconds, you will forget about letting them cool for any longer and will want to eat one. Go ahead! 

That’s what I’m talking about. It’s all about the comfort, people. All about the comfort.

Stay tuned for my favourite gingerbread recipe coming soon.

Thanks for reading and happy baking:)

Cheers,

Jane

What? You’ve never had S’mores before?

I’m sitting in a folding chair outside at Goldstream Park. The smell of dead salmon wafts past me mingled with the ash and smoke from the fire, which is struggling a bit in this damp weather (the fire, not the dead salmon). It’s not exactly raining…well…OK, it’s raining. But just lightly. The cedar trees tower over me and I can just make out the top of Mt. Finlayson above me through the swirling mist. It looks wet up there and I can see rock faces slick with water. Across the fire pit my daughter Zoe is enjoying a marshmallow as only an 8yr old can. She is simultaneously licking it and melding her soul to it and clearly enjoying every second of it. A stainless steel cup of water sits on the fire grate ready for the licorice fern root that Jacob is peeling.

I have been dragging my kids to Goldstream Park every November since they were little. At first we would stand and stare at the salmon as they limped upstream like so many zombies with bits falling off them and huge chunks of flesh missing. In the last few years, the fish have only drawn minimal interest from the kids. I mean, really, how many half-dead salmon can you look at before they all start to look the same. And they have each been on a bazillion field trips led by well-meaning teachers who, if they had checked with last-year’s teacher would have learned that the kids had been there done that. And the year before as well. But whatever. When we go, it’s not about science as much as it is about sitting around a fire, defying mother nature, and eating huge quantities of marshmallows, hot dogs, and most importantly, as many s’mores as possible. Salad & fruit is replaced with Graham crackers and chocolate, milk with hot chocolate, and the only vegetable in sight is ketchup. It’s all good.

We usually undertake this venture by ourselves but this year we invited some friends along. We got through the hot-dog/hot chocolate/roasting marshmallows part without incident, except for a moment when our Bulgarian friend, Jivko, decided the fire needed some attention and proceeded to fan it with great gusto, scattering ash, embers and smoke everywhere. Good thing it was raining or he would have started a forest fire.

Note how the chairs empty as the fanning increases…

 

That’s Heather on the left, barely visible through through the swirling ash and smoke, and Jiv on the right

After a few minutes of staring at the fire while the various children dusted themselves off and roasted marshmallows, and Chewbacca the dog tried unsuccessfully to navigate his way through chairs and legs without getting completely wound up, I declared it was time for s’mores. “What is this s’mores?” said the Bulgarian. “You know, s’mores…marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate…Like as in ‘God that’s delicious I want s’more'…?” I said. Heather and I tried in vain to explain them. I was floored. This was a crime! At this rate he was probably also about to tell me that he had never heard of toques, Neil Young, or Anne of Green Gables. And he couldn’t play the immigrant card either as he has been in Canada for 20yrs.

He still gave me a look like I had three heads and said something to the effect of “No and I don’t know what you are talking about.”  Apparently they don’t do s’mores in Bulgaria. Whatever. I was going to start into a big explanation but I decided instead that a demonstration was in order. For those of you who are also unfamiliar with this most excellent of North American traditions, here’s how it works:

Start with a fire

Then lay down your first graham cracker

 

Stick a marshmallow on that baby

Add some chocolate and another graham cracker and slap the whole thing on the fire and let it melt…

And may I just say here that you must not be stingy with the chocolate. Mothers and fathers everywhere, just chill out and turn a blind eye when your kids stick a huge chunk of chocolate on that bad-boy. It’s all part of it. If you don’t use enough chocolate, your s’mores will appear neat and orderly. This is wrong. s’mores, by nature, are messy and must get all over your face or they don’t taste as good.

Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!

At this point further discussion was rendered impossible as our mouths were full of chocolate, marshmallow etc. There was a line up for the s’mores maker but fortunately the kids kept themselves occupied roasting the perfect marshmallow while they waited their turn. At the store, I had wondered that perhaps 800 marshmallows was going to be too many but it turned out to barely be enough. The girls did themselves proud, and the parents were pretty good too:

Excellent.

Nicely browned.

Good work.

The author, with her masterpiece. Well, part of it anyway.

And, in the one and only time when s’mores are ever like half-dead salmon, there comes a time when you have had enough. We packed everything up and, in the semi-darkness, made our way to our cars. The fire was still burning cheerfully as we left and I felt kinda sad leaving it, thinking of all the yummy things we could be cooking over its coals. Actually, I had that thought for about 4 seconds before realizing that I had consumed more calories than a small army and would not need to eat again. Ever. Zoe confirmed this thought in the car by declaring the bag of marshmallows ‘gross’ and that she couldn’t even look at it. Strangely enough, she was back into them the next day. She actually asked if she could have one in her lunch. I think she was confused by my campfire enthusiasm that one minute flared up and told her she could and should eat as many marshmallows and as much chocolate as possible, and the next, had died down and was admonishing her for even thinking about them. Oh well. Sorry! Can’t be the model mother all the time. And if you’re inconsistent from time to time then it just helps them all the more to appreciate you when you are consistent. Or something. Whatever. Anyway.

So if you, like my friend Jiv, have been in Canada for 20 yrs and never had s’mores before, there’s still time. I would be happy to come along and demonstrate for you. And Jiv will probably want to come, too, if this last picture is any indication….

Yes, they were that good.

Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Jane