Special Glasses Issue 2

2/5/08

10:53 AM

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special glasses v12

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Ethiopia – A World Away

Slowfood

Mincemeat – A Recipe for Disaster

Mary Pratt – Threads of Scarlet, Pieces of Pomegranate Beginning a Dinner Party Club

Latkes, ristorantes and fish eyes

$5.99

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:54 AM

Page 2

SPECIAL GLASSES OPEN YOUR MIND AND SHARE WHAT’S THERE.

Special Glasses is an evaluation of the human condition. A publication that doesn’t sell or promote a product or service is suspect from the outset.What is this and why is it produced? What is the revenue stream? Is this something to do with a religious organization? Who publishes this and why? All valid questions; however, I won’t insult you by answering any of them.

SPECIAL GLASSES is a magazine intended to encourage you to consider, recall, and share ideas and experiences that exist between, beneath, to the right and to the left of the things you normally see. SPECIAL GLASSES is an existential quantifier - It exists and therefore it is possible to produce a magazine that follows no rules beyond Truth, Decency, Love, and Rich Imagery with Complete Absence of Commercialism. This magazine exists, it simply does, and it is read and shared by an awful lot of you, considering the first issue was distributed hand to hand, heart to heart.

The fact is, when you do the right things, the right things result and SPECIAL GLASSES has opened windows and doors for me as an artist, and for the contributors who are bound together by a love of the obscure, by the conversations around the ideas, by what happens when the magazine is opened and the mind engages.

I tell you SPECIAL GLASSES in an artistic pursuit – a metaphor for art in and of itself.

SPECIAL GLASSES was the basis for a new method of communicating that I call High Fidelity Story Telling®. The fact that something of real fiscal value emerged from something so visceral speaks well of following one’s heart and saying YES to ideas that come from the corners of one’s mind, from out on the edge.

Where do you get the edge? I have offered to bring chaos into busy marketing communications offices and to presidents of large organizations where people are otherwise too task oriented to take a chance on a non linear idea. I am delighted to be thus employed by several clients – is this not the dream occupation?

Special Glasses is available in select independent book stores. Our print run is not large so you might want to reserve your copy by logging on to www.noraspicks.com and clicking on the SPECIAL GLASSES icon on the left.

Please DO NOT JUST READ SPECIAL GLASSES – let it wash over you and let it encourage you to actually or metaphorically WEAR SPECIAL GLASSES YOURSELF...

I truly do want to know what you think; what you saw yesterday when the fine mist from the lake crept along Queen Street causing a surreal effect; I want to know what you love, what moves you, what you’re reading or watching or thinking or doing or combinations of the above.

You are an integral part of the grand enterprise that is art.

SPECIAL GLASSES, Open Your Mind And Share What’s There is published annually by DUO Strategy and Design Inc. [www.duo.ca] This publication is available for sale in independent book shops; it is also shared hand to hand, heart to heart.

cover photo: Bronwen Sharp ISBN 978-0-9739403-2-9 Printed in Canada by Annan & Sons

Distribution inquiries: info@duo.ca

To provide feedback: info@duo.ca

Sponsorship inquiries: ncamps@duo.ca

To subscribe, visit: www.noraspicks.com

Nora Art is like a love affair. Once you have it in your life you are unwilling to do without.

We gratefully acknowledge our Best Friend Sponsor Annan & Sons.

Important p.s.

Special Glasses is looking for a partner sponsor. If you are large-hearted and believe in art for the sake of art, contact me directly. nora@duo.ca

1

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:54 AM

Page 2

SPECIAL GLASSES OPEN YOUR MIND AND SHARE WHAT’S THERE.

Special Glasses is an evaluation of the human condition. A publication that doesn’t sell or promote a product or service is suspect from the outset.What is this and why is it produced? What is the revenue stream? Is this something to do with a religious organization? Who publishes this and why? All valid questions; however, I won’t insult you by answering any of them.

SPECIAL GLASSES is a magazine intended to encourage you to consider, recall, and share ideas and experiences that exist between, beneath, to the right and to the left of the things you normally see. SPECIAL GLASSES is an existential quantifier - It exists and therefore it is possible to produce a magazine that follows no rules beyond Truth, Decency, Love, and Rich Imagery with Complete Absence of Commercialism. This magazine exists, it simply does, and it is read and shared by an awful lot of you, considering the first issue was distributed hand to hand, heart to heart.

The fact is, when you do the right things, the right things result and SPECIAL GLASSES has opened windows and doors for me as an artist, and for the contributors who are bound together by a love of the obscure, by the conversations around the ideas, by what happens when the magazine is opened and the mind engages.

I tell you SPECIAL GLASSES in an artistic pursuit – a metaphor for art in and of itself.

SPECIAL GLASSES was the basis for a new method of communicating that I call High Fidelity Story Telling®. The fact that something of real fiscal value emerged from something so visceral speaks well of following one’s heart and saying YES to ideas that come from the corners of one’s mind, from out on the edge.

Where do you get the edge? I have offered to bring chaos into busy marketing communications offices and to presidents of large organizations where people are otherwise too task oriented to take a chance on a non linear idea. I am delighted to be thus employed by several clients – is this not the dream occupation?

Special Glasses is available in select independent book stores. Our print run is not large so you might want to reserve your copy by logging on to www.noraspicks.com and clicking on the SPECIAL GLASSES icon on the left.

Please DO NOT JUST READ SPECIAL GLASSES – let it wash over you and let it encourage you to actually or metaphorically WEAR SPECIAL GLASSES YOURSELF...

I truly do want to know what you think; what you saw yesterday when the fine mist from the lake crept along Queen Street causing a surreal effect; I want to know what you love, what moves you, what you’re reading or watching or thinking or doing or combinations of the above.

You are an integral part of the grand enterprise that is art.

SPECIAL GLASSES, Open Your Mind And Share What’s There is published annually by DUO Strategy and Design Inc. [www.duo.ca] This publication is available for sale in independent book shops; it is also shared hand to hand, heart to heart.

cover photo: Bronwen Sharp ISBN 978-0-9739403-2-9 Printed in Canada by Annan & Sons

Distribution inquiries: info@duo.ca

To provide feedback: info@duo.ca

Sponsorship inquiries: ncamps@duo.ca

To subscribe, visit: www.noraspicks.com

Nora Art is like a love affair. Once you have it in your life you are unwilling to do without.

We gratefully acknowledge our Best Friend Sponsor Annan & Sons.

Important p.s.

Special Glasses is looking for a partner sponsor. If you are large-hearted and believe in art for the sake of art, contact me directly. nora@duo.ca

1

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:54 AM

Page 2

Mincemeat – A Recipe for Disaster COMBINE A QUARTER POUND EACH OF DRIED, CANDIED, CHOPPED CITRON, ORANGE PEEL AND LEMON PEEL. Combining ingredients and submitting them to culinary technique is a venture that emboldens the cook, for she savours the process of accidents and cunning from which results the concoction that, when presented to the dinner guest, confounds the distinction between material and immaterial, between physical sensation and figurative effect. There exists of course no recipe the realization of which does not permit additions or substitutions of ingredients to heighten or perturb either

the nutritive or evocative power of the dish. Accordingly, you may wish herein to substitute candied kumquat for the citron. Kumquats once grew profusely along the sand dunes of Spain’s Mediterranean coast.

Although Spaniards joyously devour this delicacy, for centuries the fruit-laden boughs wild among palmettos were profuse, for even the most dedicated aficionado preferred to rhapsodize about the kumquat grove rather than pluck a fruit that belonged to no one and to everyone. They were commonplace yet relished by the native Spaniard, especially when the visiting, incredulous Londoner often had never heard of “the fruit that grows inside out.” This is said about the kumquat because one eats the peel, which is exceedingly sweet, but shuns the pulp, which is so sour it could curdle saliva.

TWO AND A HALF QUARTS OF APPLES, PEELED AND SLICED. “The tarter the apple the sharper the blade.”so the saying goes. Many a child watching his grandmother at the table cutting away spirals of bright red apple skin, splashing white rows of apple flesh with lemon or diluted vinegar, upon hearing her murmur this maxim would shudder at its message – that insolence would bring swift punishment.

And if it were a young girl listening, she would vow never to display a sharp tongue, lest suitors suspect she has a cold heart. Such are the folks most susceptible to the cook as she works: impressionable infants who have not yet surrendered their aptitude for imbuing all objects and actions with allegory, and students, who confidently affect the mannerisms and inflections, as well as the superstitions, of the culinarian they revere.

SPRINKLE SALT AND PEPPER OVER HALF A POUND OF CHOPPED BEEF SUET, MIXING WELL WITH HALF A POUND OF BROKEN NUT MEATS.

2

The naturally sweet nuts such as pecan and cashew should be avoided, and walnut or another bitter type preferred. The bitterness of the walnut should evince a barely discernible gall. “Who dies of gall would not live better without it” is a notion now out of favour in dessert-making, but in most other endeavours taken to the extreme,

as even the most casual perusal of the daily newspaper will affirm.

Thus, often, the recipe of today will substitute blander tastes. There are two reasons for this, the first being that cookbooks are no longer used solely as a reference for the active culinary artisan: today as often as not they are pictorial compendia of photographed foods. The readers of such books indulge themselves a few moments of solitude in which to imagine the tastes of exotic ingredients illustrated therein. But they no longer devote hours, even days, to the performance of the actual recipes. Secondly, increasingly, inexperienced cooks no

In the oldest concoctions the inclusion of raisins was advised in order that the bitterness of the lethal fraction be masked by the raisin’s darkly sweet taste. A 2,000-year-old Roman recipe for cauliflower, however, claims that the addition of the raisin is precautionary, and that in the presence of raisin, the flavour of any toxin would be magnified so greatly that “first by aroma and then by the casting of tears from eyes, the dinner guest will be safely hastened from his plate.”

longer acquaint themselves with the walnut, and are unlikely to know that walnuts release their flavour continuously over the several weeks that mincemeat is “setting”; if the cook errs in quality or quantity of walnut added, the whole endeavour will end with the guests unable to stomach the bilious commixture.

ADD ONE HALF FRESHLY GRATED NUTMEG.

ONE QUART OF SOUR CHERRIES, Preferably the St. John’s variety, although it is rare and seldom grown in quantity for transport or commercial canning. It is best to have pitted the cherries well in advance and keep them on ice. This will enhance their colour which is a delicate peach all around, except for a splotch of scarlet that deepens when chilled. It is said that this cherry got its name when the Christ Child Himself, along with His cousin John, was learning from His Mother how to cut out the cherry’s stone.

Blue for blueberries and for God’s royal cloak, Green are the leaves on His Majesty’s oak Oranges are blessed at cathedrals in Spain Gladly we toil in our Lord’s holy name, so sang the semi-divine cousins, goes the legend when children are taught this ditty in the Midland orchards where St. John’s are cultivated. St. John, we are told, sang with so much zest he grew careless.

His blade slipped against his own hand, splashed the cherry with blood, and thereby prefigured his own beheading.

STIR ONE POUND OF RAISINS WITH THREE QUARTERS OF A POUND OF CURRANTS AND ONE AND A HALF POUNDS OF SUGAR. Some recipes for raisins are exceedingly ancient, and culinary legends with which they are linked usually allude to food deliberately poisoned.

The medicinal, noxious and symbolic properties of spices are vastly recorded. The lore of the nutmeg itself abounds with precautions, parables and miracles, sometimes without certain distinction between the three. When freshly ground, the nutmeg releases its most volatile essence, spiricine, a xanthine-like chemical named for the “breath” of the nutmeg, which centuries ago would have been equivalent to its spirit or soul. Cooks shared the secret that an ecstasy might be induced when one smells the first cut of this kernel. Yet by some accounts, there is a warning that “only toothless women” are the proper cooks for nutmeg. This refers to how the spiricine will induce the cook to smile, yet she must keep her lips firmly closed (thus none of her teeth are visible), for to inhale the soul of the nutmeg and mingle it with one’s own breath is to risk sudden death.

MIX ONE HALF TEASPOON OF FRESHLY GRATED CINNAMON, OF MACE, OF CLOVES AND OF CORIANDER SEED INTO ONE POUND OF CHOPPED OX HEART. POUR ONE PINT OF CIDER UPON ALL THE ABOVE INGREDIENTS MIXED IN A CAULDRON. This is to be cooked gently for two hours. It is best to slip an asbestos pad between the pot and the flame, to prevent scorching, which would mar the taste and texture. The asbestos device is all that remains of the cook’s traditional vigilance over this delicacy. As with so many other of the processes of cookery, vigilance is accomplished as a manifestation of the chef’s character, and cooks can recognize in the final presentation of a dish the influence of various habits of vigilance. For some cooks, the admixture would have been slightly sticky and quite glossy, with uniform texture throughout, the result of infrequent stirring and an emphasis upon daydreaming. In contrast, there are cooks who are actively vigilant with all of their senses, listening to the sputtering of the sauce, smelling the progress of the increasingly mingled flavours, watchful that the mixture is fairly heated throughout, constantly pressing the morsels to monitor their texture. To some, the gradual changing of colour from distinctly fresh and multi-

plicitous to a universally burnished caramel, is a favourite, oft-repeated narrative. To others the bubbling pot is like a mailbox to which at intervals they eagerly return, to peer within, while otherwise busy restoring the kitchen to a tidy state. That tradition of watchfulness, even so, had been of only eighty-six years duration, established because of the conflagration at St. Luke’s in Brimston on December 10th. Its great kitchen had been ignited by untended mincemeat simmering in preparation for the Christmas Day feast.

*

*

*

An added note about contemporary dinner guests We are living in times worthy of much reflection. Nowadays we will often have guests who haven’t ever been taught to cook. They glance blushing at a recipe or at an array of bowls and spoons. The sight of ripened pods, of leaves and stalks, of cotelets, filets, of eggs and twigs, seeds and oil is entrancing yet intimidating. When the meal is arranged before them at the table, they glance at it surreptitiously, but rarely does their gaze meander fondly from dish to dish. More infrequent still is the guest who sighs and lingers, and, returning a cordial smile to the cook, inhales languorously before the ingestion begins.

For distinguishing salt from sugar these guests possess great confidence in their palate and long to extend it to all other flavours. Yet impatience is their undoing. They will request of the cook that every ingredient be divulged and accounted for, not for reminiscence, but as if to take attendance; to make sense of it, they inquire who authored the cookbook, or what shops everything came from. Using the tip of their fork, they prod tidbits out of the sauce. Some cooks mention that chance or intellection or mischief are mixed up in it too, but rarely is the subsequent comment of the guest delightful. A cook may become silent, out of coyness, or humility or defiance, upon which the guest earnestly pleads, “How else can I learn?” As often as not, there will also be someone at the table who is quite pleased to attract attention, and so the unsure guest will turn to them to pose all the same questions. This is the situation at present, as I said.

Mincemeat – A Recipe for Disaster Jeanne Randolph is a Winnipeg intellectual whose book ETHICS OF LUXURY was launched in Toronto in October 2007.

3

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:54 AM

Page 2

Mincemeat – A Recipe for Disaster COMBINE A QUARTER POUND EACH OF DRIED, CANDIED, CHOPPED CITRON, ORANGE PEEL AND LEMON PEEL. Combining ingredients and submitting them to culinary technique is a venture that emboldens the cook, for she savours the process of accidents and cunning from which results the concoction that, when presented to the dinner guest, confounds the distinction between material and immaterial, between physical sensation and figurative effect. There exists of course no recipe the realization of which does not permit additions or substitutions of ingredients to heighten or perturb either

the nutritive or evocative power of the dish. Accordingly, you may wish herein to substitute candied kumquat for the citron. Kumquats once grew profusely along the sand dunes of Spain’s Mediterranean coast.

Although Spaniards joyously devour this delicacy, for centuries the fruit-laden boughs wild among palmettos were profuse, for even the most dedicated aficionado preferred to rhapsodize about the kumquat grove rather than pluck a fruit that belonged to no one and to everyone. They were commonplace yet relished by the native Spaniard, especially when the visiting, incredulous Londoner often had never heard of “the fruit that grows inside out.” This is said about the kumquat because one eats the peel, which is exceedingly sweet, but shuns the pulp, which is so sour it could curdle saliva.

TWO AND A HALF QUARTS OF APPLES, PEELED AND SLICED. “The tarter the apple the sharper the blade.”so the saying goes. Many a child watching his grandmother at the table cutting away spirals of bright red apple skin, splashing white rows of apple flesh with lemon or diluted vinegar, upon hearing her murmur this maxim would shudder at its message – that insolence would bring swift punishment.

And if it were a young girl listening, she would vow never to display a sharp tongue, lest suitors suspect she has a cold heart. Such are the folks most susceptible to the cook as she works: impressionable infants who have not yet surrendered their aptitude for imbuing all objects and actions with allegory, and students, who confidently affect the mannerisms and inflections, as well as the superstitions, of the culinarian they revere.

SPRINKLE SALT AND PEPPER OVER HALF A POUND OF CHOPPED BEEF SUET, MIXING WELL WITH HALF A POUND OF BROKEN NUT MEATS.

2

The naturally sweet nuts such as pecan and cashew should be avoided, and walnut or another bitter type preferred. The bitterness of the walnut should evince a barely discernible gall. “Who dies of gall would not live better without it” is a notion now out of favour in dessert-making, but in most other endeavours taken to the extreme,

as even the most casual perusal of the daily newspaper will affirm.

Thus, often, the recipe of today will substitute blander tastes. There are two reasons for this, the first being that cookbooks are no longer used solely as a reference for the active culinary artisan: today as often as not they are pictorial compendia of photographed foods. The readers of such books indulge themselves a few moments of solitude in which to imagine the tastes of exotic ingredients illustrated therein. But they no longer devote hours, even days, to the performance of the actual recipes. Secondly, increasingly, inexperienced cooks no

In the oldest concoctions the inclusion of raisins was advised in order that the bitterness of the lethal fraction be masked by the raisin’s darkly sweet taste. A 2,000-year-old Roman recipe for cauliflower, however, claims that the addition of the raisin is precautionary, and that in the presence of raisin, the flavour of any toxin would be magnified so greatly that “first by aroma and then by the casting of tears from eyes, the dinner guest will be safely hastened from his plate.”

longer acquaint themselves with the walnut, and are unlikely to know that walnuts release their flavour continuously over the several weeks that mincemeat is “setting”; if the cook errs in quality or quantity of walnut added, the whole endeavour will end with the guests unable to stomach the bilious commixture.

ADD ONE HALF FRESHLY GRATED NUTMEG.

ONE QUART OF SOUR CHERRIES, Preferably the St. John’s variety, although it is rare and seldom grown in quantity for transport or commercial canning. It is best to have pitted the cherries well in advance and keep them on ice. This will enhance their colour which is a delicate peach all around, except for a splotch of scarlet that deepens when chilled. It is said that this cherry got its name when the Christ Child Himself, along with His cousin John, was learning from His Mother how to cut out the cherry’s stone.

Blue for blueberries and for God’s royal cloak, Green are the leaves on His Majesty’s oak Oranges are blessed at cathedrals in Spain Gladly we toil in our Lord’s holy name, so sang the semi-divine cousins, goes the legend when children are taught this ditty in the Midland orchards where St. John’s are cultivated. St. John, we are told, sang with so much zest he grew careless.

His blade slipped against his own hand, splashed the cherry with blood, and thereby prefigured his own beheading.

STIR ONE POUND OF RAISINS WITH THREE QUARTERS OF A POUND OF CURRANTS AND ONE AND A HALF POUNDS OF SUGAR. Some recipes for raisins are exceedingly ancient, and culinary legends with which they are linked usually allude to food deliberately poisoned.

The medicinal, noxious and symbolic properties of spices are vastly recorded. The lore of the nutmeg itself abounds with precautions, parables and miracles, sometimes without certain distinction between the three. When freshly ground, the nutmeg releases its most volatile essence, spiricine, a xanthine-like chemical named for the “breath” of the nutmeg, which centuries ago would have been equivalent to its spirit or soul. Cooks shared the secret that an ecstasy might be induced when one smells the first cut of this kernel. Yet by some accounts, there is a warning that “only toothless women” are the proper cooks for nutmeg. This refers to how the spiricine will induce the cook to smile, yet she must keep her lips firmly closed (thus none of her teeth are visible), for to inhale the soul of the nutmeg and mingle it with one’s own breath is to risk sudden death.

MIX ONE HALF TEASPOON OF FRESHLY GRATED CINNAMON, OF MACE, OF CLOVES AND OF CORIANDER SEED INTO ONE POUND OF CHOPPED OX HEART. POUR ONE PINT OF CIDER UPON ALL THE ABOVE INGREDIENTS MIXED IN A CAULDRON. This is to be cooked gently for two hours. It is best to slip an asbestos pad between the pot and the flame, to prevent scorching, which would mar the taste and texture. The asbestos device is all that remains of the cook’s traditional vigilance over this delicacy. As with so many other of the processes of cookery, vigilance is accomplished as a manifestation of the chef’s character, and cooks can recognize in the final presentation of a dish the influence of various habits of vigilance. For some cooks, the admixture would have been slightly sticky and quite glossy, with uniform texture throughout, the result of infrequent stirring and an emphasis upon daydreaming. In contrast, there are cooks who are actively vigilant with all of their senses, listening to the sputtering of the sauce, smelling the progress of the increasingly mingled flavours, watchful that the mixture is fairly heated throughout, constantly pressing the morsels to monitor their texture. To some, the gradual changing of colour from distinctly fresh and multi-

plicitous to a universally burnished caramel, is a favourite, oft-repeated narrative. To others the bubbling pot is like a mailbox to which at intervals they eagerly return, to peer within, while otherwise busy restoring the kitchen to a tidy state. That tradition of watchfulness, even so, had been of only eighty-six years duration, established because of the conflagration at St. Luke’s in Brimston on December 10th. Its great kitchen had been ignited by untended mincemeat simmering in preparation for the Christmas Day feast.

*

*

*

An added note about contemporary dinner guests We are living in times worthy of much reflection. Nowadays we will often have guests who haven’t ever been taught to cook. They glance blushing at a recipe or at an array of bowls and spoons. The sight of ripened pods, of leaves and stalks, of cotelets, filets, of eggs and twigs, seeds and oil is entrancing yet intimidating. When the meal is arranged before them at the table, they glance at it surreptitiously, but rarely does their gaze meander fondly from dish to dish. More infrequent still is the guest who sighs and lingers, and, returning a cordial smile to the cook, inhales languorously before the ingestion begins.

For distinguishing salt from sugar these guests possess great confidence in their palate and long to extend it to all other flavours. Yet impatience is their undoing. They will request of the cook that every ingredient be divulged and accounted for, not for reminiscence, but as if to take attendance; to make sense of it, they inquire who authored the cookbook, or what shops everything came from. Using the tip of their fork, they prod tidbits out of the sauce. Some cooks mention that chance or intellection or mischief are mixed up in it too, but rarely is the subsequent comment of the guest delightful. A cook may become silent, out of coyness, or humility or defiance, upon which the guest earnestly pleads, “How else can I learn?” As often as not, there will also be someone at the table who is quite pleased to attract attention, and so the unsure guest will turn to them to pose all the same questions. This is the situation at present, as I said.

Mincemeat – A Recipe for Disaster Jeanne Randolph is a Winnipeg intellectual whose book ETHICS OF LUXURY was launched in Toronto in October 2007.

3

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:54 AM

Page 4

From my very beginnings, food culture was my culture. And as I have evolved, the food has evolved with me.

Billy Crystal’s Jewish mama was so preoccupied with food and feeding, that for the first twelve years of his life, he thought his name was “Here, eat this!”

Billy’s mama was my mama. Growing up, I did eat this. And that, and everything else. Food was love. Our house was a closed atmosphere of cooking.

Cream cheesy blintzes with cinnamon and sugar. Potato latkes, a little onion mixed in (shhh- secret ingredient), fried to a brown crackle, perfect. Flanken, the boiled ribs of beef. Knishes – a Jamaican would call them patties; kneidlach, an Italian would call them tortellini; lokshen, the noodles a Vietnamese might call Bun.The universality of food.

My childhood and adolescence in Toronto, my bagel background, kept me shielded from other cuisines.Then I went to university – French Studies.

I developed a croissant consciousness. Not that croissants, pâtisseries, croque monsieurs, or tartes niçoises were to be found in Toronto at the time.

They weren’t. But food became more than the response medium to primal appetite. I learned how French culture applied art and thought to food.

To obsession it added creation. Mama in a nourishing smock became “une dame élégante”.

Then came the ristorantes, with their abundance. Many-regioned Italy’s many foods sprouted and spread all over the city. We gobbled up the goods.

I remember my first meal at a real ristorante. Not for what I ate (probably bruschetta and a pasta), but for what wasn’t on the menu (garlic bread, veal scallopini and spumoni ice cream). I felt I was having an experience, not a meal.The key ingredients new to this non-Italian were passion and sprezzatura. Italian cucina retains its libidinal hold today, decades on. It drives much of our eating culture, and so helps to define our culture – the majority mix of common habits, beliefs and desiderata.Toronto is a blessed gloryland of multiculturalism. Italian food communes with Chinese, Indian, Middle Eastern, Jamaican,Vietnamese, French, Jewish and Japanese.

Japanese food is a newer addition to the scene. Mostly sushi. Wouldn’t touch the stuff for years. Raw fish? Byaaah. Secretly I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to use chopsticks. One friend of mine still can’t get the hang of it. He insists on holding one chopstick in each hand. I came around, however, along with most Torontonians. It was a tuna roll that did it. Sushi is my fast food now. Chopsticks? No problem.

Japanese food means sushi and sushi means Japanese food, pretty much, in Toronto.Three months in Japan corrected that impression. I was there, for the most part in Tokyo, from November to January on an arts fellowship, and as a visiting scholar at a university. I ate sushi no more than three times.

Two of those were on trips to Tsukiji,Tokyo’s eye-popping, dense, sprawling commercial fish market. Boats leave their catch. Wholesalers cut up the fish.

Buyers buy. Surrounding the market are tiny shacks. Inside, master sushi chefs serve up the freshest catch to 10 or 12 diners squeezed in at the counter.

I went one day with Russell Braun, the great opera tenor who was in Tokyo

4

to sing Barber of Seville. I had talked up the sushi in Tsukiji to Russell.

I was afraid I’d oversold it. Uh uh.The chef handed us tiny plate after tiny plate. He spoke no English, we spoke no Japanese. So we had no idea what we were eating. We felt only the assault of pleasure as the maki, sashimi and sushi overtook our senses, starting on the tongue, and coursing through the body.

As I say, this was the exception. Japanese food is not all sushi. Far from it. It’s rice, it’s wheat noodles in fish broth (udon), buckwheat noodles (soba), spinach, seaweed, fish. And more fish. And more fish.

Lots of meat too, but I don’t eat meat. Great peanuts too. Great peanuts.They’re two or three times the size of Canadian peanuts.

They’re whole, not puny. I must have eaten peanuts every day. I especially loved kaki pea–the snack mix of peanuts and small salty rice crackers.You can buy it everywhere in Japan.

The Japanese treat food with near-religious respect. No matter how cheap the restaurant, the dishes are well-prepared, and proudly presented. Portions are never super-sized (or American-size-u in Japanese.)

Almost no one eats casually, walking down the street. Go anywhere in Tokyo, a city of millions upon millions, surrounded by thousands of people around you. Not one is eating while walking. If you want to eat, you sit down, or at least stop and stand until you’ve finished. It’s respect for food. One day, I got really hungry while on a long walk.

I stopped into a grocery, and bought a banana. I didn’t even think twice while I was downing it as I continued on my way. But I quickly realized that, in the mass of pedestrians lining the major thoroughfare, I was the only one eating.Yikes. Furtively, I scurried down a side alley, ducked into a backdoor parking lot, and finished my now-guilty snack.

By far, my most memorable dinner in Japan was prepared by Ani, the Bob Marley obsessed super-chef. Ani is a character. He was one of the youngest people to become a top level chef in Japan commanding $500 to $2000 per meal, per person. He tired of the carriage trade, though, the cash and the glamour.

Now in his 50s, Ani opened a small restaurant near the Ebisu subway station, not far from, but not in, one of Tokyo’s churning metropolitan districts. Looking at it from the outside, you’d never guess the treasures awaiting inside.The decor is simple, wooden, warm. We are seated at the small bar at the back. We’re told it’s reserved only for special guests. We are: me, my wife Daniela Nardi, and Ani’s friend, Greg Robic. Greg is a Toronto playwright, composer, and performer of Japanese comedy story-telling. That’s as likely as a Japanese man coming to North America and performing Chris Rock routines. It’s extreme cross-culture, and it takes extreme talent to pull off. Greg, as usual, is dressed in a storyteller’s kimono. Ani is his neighbour in Yokohama.They take the train home together every night. Greg

introduces us as jazz musicians. Ani bows deeply, a sign of huge respect from a man in his 50s. So we get the special bar seats.

The night is a parade of edible artifice.Throughout it, Ani appears intermittently at our table. He is grizzly personified. A long gone T-shirt.

Rough pants. A face mapped with lines, full of life and spiky stubble.

Non-linear, shortish, fine grey hair, random strands of which he has gathered up and wrapped in an elastic band. Little grey palm trees.

More than most Japanese, Ani stares downward as he speaks.Yet, there is humour, and a collaborative slyness in the way he talks, although we don’t understand what he’s saying. Greg tells us Ani loves Bob Marley, and Ani looks up, alight, and cracks a semi-toothless neon smile. “Bah-ahbu Maw-ley” he growls, and laughs.This passion explains Ani’s hair. Dreadlocks, Ani-style.

We order nothing. Ani serves what he likes, what inspires him that night. It’s mostly fish. Describing Ani’s food would be like describing an Art Tatum piano solo. It’s beyond words. One particular tasty sashimi offering is lush, light and beyond delicious. We think it’s salmon, but we’re told it’s masu, river trout. No sooner do we praise it, than Ani returns with a large plate. He sets it before us, proudly – the ultimate honour.

He is personally serving us the rarely offered best bits of the masu: the fatty belly and, of course, the head. We bow with thanks. I’m about to say, no thanks. Head is not on my diet. I’m not fast enough for his knife, though. Ani swiftly removes one of the fish’s eyes, and carves out the orbit with a microsurgeon’s finesse. He drops it on my plate with a grand flourish, beaming with the glory he has bestowed on me. He’s watching, expectantly. A fish-eye socket. Aaak.

But I can’t find a way to tell the virtuoso that I won’t share in his masterwork. I breathe, screw up my innards, swoop down with my chopsticks, raise the flesh, throw it in my mouth, chew, hold back my gag reflex, and wrestle my mouth into a smile that betokens divine pleasure. Mmmmmmm.

Ani nods a nod of contented achievement.The socket actually doesn’t taste too bad. A bit like soft egg. But all night I’m racked with mental images of it, sitting 60 centimeters beneath my own eyes.The rest of Ani’s meal was equally memorable but, thankfully, less challenging.

I’m no longer sure which is the most food-obsessed culture. It hardly matters. Any place that says “Here, eat this” feels like home to me.

© 2007 Ron Davis Ron Davis (www.rondavismusic.com) is a composer and jazz pianist. Ron will be releasing his recording, “Subarashii Live” this fall.

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From my very beginnings, food culture was my culture. And as I have evolved, the food has evolved with me.

Billy Crystal’s Jewish mama was so preoccupied with food and feeding, that for the first twelve years of his life, he thought his name was “Here, eat this!”

Billy’s mama was my mama. Growing up, I did eat this. And that, and everything else. Food was love. Our house was a closed atmosphere of cooking.

Cream cheesy blintzes with cinnamon and sugar. Potato latkes, a little onion mixed in (shhh- secret ingredient), fried to a brown crackle, perfect. Flanken, the boiled ribs of beef. Knishes – a Jamaican would call them patties; kneidlach, an Italian would call them tortellini; lokshen, the noodles a Vietnamese might call Bun.The universality of food.

My childhood and adolescence in Toronto, my bagel background, kept me shielded from other cuisines.Then I went to university – French Studies.

I developed a croissant consciousness. Not that croissants, pâtisseries, croque monsieurs, or tartes niçoises were to be found in Toronto at the time.

They weren’t. But food became more than the response medium to primal appetite. I learned how French culture applied art and thought to food.

To obsession it added creation. Mama in a nourishing smock became “une dame élégante”.

Then came the ristorantes, with their abundance. Many-regioned Italy’s many foods sprouted and spread all over the city. We gobbled up the goods.

I remember my first meal at a real ristorante. Not for what I ate (probably bruschetta and a pasta), but for what wasn’t on the menu (garlic bread, veal scallopini and spumoni ice cream). I felt I was having an experience, not a meal.The key ingredients new to this non-Italian were passion and sprezzatura. Italian cucina retains its libidinal hold today, decades on. It drives much of our eating culture, and so helps to define our culture – the majority mix of common habits, beliefs and desiderata.Toronto is a blessed gloryland of multiculturalism. Italian food communes with Chinese, Indian, Middle Eastern, Jamaican,Vietnamese, French, Jewish and Japanese.

Japanese food is a newer addition to the scene. Mostly sushi. Wouldn’t touch the stuff for years. Raw fish? Byaaah. Secretly I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to use chopsticks. One friend of mine still can’t get the hang of it. He insists on holding one chopstick in each hand. I came around, however, along with most Torontonians. It was a tuna roll that did it. Sushi is my fast food now. Chopsticks? No problem.

Japanese food means sushi and sushi means Japanese food, pretty much, in Toronto.Three months in Japan corrected that impression. I was there, for the most part in Tokyo, from November to January on an arts fellowship, and as a visiting scholar at a university. I ate sushi no more than three times.

Two of those were on trips to Tsukiji,Tokyo’s eye-popping, dense, sprawling commercial fish market. Boats leave their catch. Wholesalers cut up the fish.

Buyers buy. Surrounding the market are tiny shacks. Inside, master sushi chefs serve up the freshest catch to 10 or 12 diners squeezed in at the counter.

I went one day with Russell Braun, the great opera tenor who was in Tokyo

4

to sing Barber of Seville. I had talked up the sushi in Tsukiji to Russell.

I was afraid I’d oversold it. Uh uh.The chef handed us tiny plate after tiny plate. He spoke no English, we spoke no Japanese. So we had no idea what we were eating. We felt only the assault of pleasure as the maki, sashimi and sushi overtook our senses, starting on the tongue, and coursing through the body.

As I say, this was the exception. Japanese food is not all sushi. Far from it. It’s rice, it’s wheat noodles in fish broth (udon), buckwheat noodles (soba), spinach, seaweed, fish. And more fish. And more fish.

Lots of meat too, but I don’t eat meat. Great peanuts too. Great peanuts.They’re two or three times the size of Canadian peanuts.

They’re whole, not puny. I must have eaten peanuts every day. I especially loved kaki pea–the snack mix of peanuts and small salty rice crackers.You can buy it everywhere in Japan.

The Japanese treat food with near-religious respect. No matter how cheap the restaurant, the dishes are well-prepared, and proudly presented. Portions are never super-sized (or American-size-u in Japanese.)

Almost no one eats casually, walking down the street. Go anywhere in Tokyo, a city of millions upon millions, surrounded by thousands of people around you. Not one is eating while walking. If you want to eat, you sit down, or at least stop and stand until you’ve finished. It’s respect for food. One day, I got really hungry while on a long walk.

I stopped into a grocery, and bought a banana. I didn’t even think twice while I was downing it as I continued on my way. But I quickly realized that, in the mass of pedestrians lining the major thoroughfare, I was the only one eating.Yikes. Furtively, I scurried down a side alley, ducked into a backdoor parking lot, and finished my now-guilty snack.

By far, my most memorable dinner in Japan was prepared by Ani, the Bob Marley obsessed super-chef. Ani is a character. He was one of the youngest people to become a top level chef in Japan commanding $500 to $2000 per meal, per person. He tired of the carriage trade, though, the cash and the glamour.

Now in his 50s, Ani opened a small restaurant near the Ebisu subway station, not far from, but not in, one of Tokyo’s churning metropolitan districts. Looking at it from the outside, you’d never guess the treasures awaiting inside.The decor is simple, wooden, warm. We are seated at the small bar at the back. We’re told it’s reserved only for special guests. We are: me, my wife Daniela Nardi, and Ani’s friend, Greg Robic. Greg is a Toronto playwright, composer, and performer of Japanese comedy story-telling. That’s as likely as a Japanese man coming to North America and performing Chris Rock routines. It’s extreme cross-culture, and it takes extreme talent to pull off. Greg, as usual, is dressed in a storyteller’s kimono. Ani is his neighbour in Yokohama.They take the train home together every night. Greg

introduces us as jazz musicians. Ani bows deeply, a sign of huge respect from a man in his 50s. So we get the special bar seats.

The night is a parade of edible artifice.Throughout it, Ani appears intermittently at our table. He is grizzly personified. A long gone T-shirt.

Rough pants. A face mapped with lines, full of life and spiky stubble.

Non-linear, shortish, fine grey hair, random strands of which he has gathered up and wrapped in an elastic band. Little grey palm trees.

More than most Japanese, Ani stares downward as he speaks.Yet, there is humour, and a collaborative slyness in the way he talks, although we don’t understand what he’s saying. Greg tells us Ani loves Bob Marley, and Ani looks up, alight, and cracks a semi-toothless neon smile. “Bah-ahbu Maw-ley” he growls, and laughs.This passion explains Ani’s hair. Dreadlocks, Ani-style.

We order nothing. Ani serves what he likes, what inspires him that night. It’s mostly fish. Describing Ani’s food would be like describing an Art Tatum piano solo. It’s beyond words. One particular tasty sashimi offering is lush, light and beyond delicious. We think it’s salmon, but we’re told it’s masu, river trout. No sooner do we praise it, than Ani returns with a large plate. He sets it before us, proudly – the ultimate honour.

He is personally serving us the rarely offered best bits of the masu: the fatty belly and, of course, the head. We bow with thanks. I’m about to say, no thanks. Head is not on my diet. I’m not fast enough for his knife, though. Ani swiftly removes one of the fish’s eyes, and carves out the orbit with a microsurgeon’s finesse. He drops it on my plate with a grand flourish, beaming with the glory he has bestowed on me. He’s watching, expectantly. A fish-eye socket. Aaak.

But I can’t find a way to tell the virtuoso that I won’t share in his masterwork. I breathe, screw up my innards, swoop down with my chopsticks, raise the flesh, throw it in my mouth, chew, hold back my gag reflex, and wrestle my mouth into a smile that betokens divine pleasure. Mmmmmmm.

Ani nods a nod of contented achievement.The socket actually doesn’t taste too bad. A bit like soft egg. But all night I’m racked with mental images of it, sitting 60 centimeters beneath my own eyes.The rest of Ani’s meal was equally memorable but, thankfully, less challenging.

I’m no longer sure which is the most food-obsessed culture. It hardly matters. Any place that says “Here, eat this” feels like home to me.

© 2007 Ron Davis Ron Davis (www.rondavismusic.com) is a composer and jazz pianist. Ron will be releasing his recording, “Subarashii Live” this fall.

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Page 6

SPECIAL GLASSES ASKS MICHELLE BROTHERHOOD RD, CDE CLINICAL DIETITIAN, RESPIROLOGY/CYSTIC FIBROSIS CLINIC AT ST. MICHAEL’S HOSPITAL: YOU HAVE 5 THINGS TO SAY TO NORTH AMERICANS ABOUT DIET. WHAT WOULD YOU SAY? I love to eat. I understand that sometimes we aren’t going to eat pure, wonderful, healthy food. Here is what I have to say:

nutrients and we also help our environment by buying produce that doesn't have to travel such a long distance to get to our table.

one. Love what you eat! All foods fit into a healthy diet in moderation. Food is meant to be enjoyed!

Savour your favourite foods and spend time eating them with people you care about. Eating should be a positive and fun experience.

three. Take a vitamin D supplement. This is important for Canadians as we are unable to make Vitamin D from the sun between the months of September to March given the angle of the sun. Vitamin D has been linked to bone health, decreasing certain types of cancers, reduced risk of diabetes and the list goes on!

two. Eat more fruit and vegetables.

They are nutrient powerhouses so eat them all day long. Enjoy fruit and vegetables that are in-season and grown locally more often. Inseason produce contains more

for a moment the next time you eat something to ask yourself why you're eating. This is the first step towards eating for the right reasons and a healthier lifestyle. five. Share your food with others.

So many are suffering due to lack of nutritious foods. If we would all take the time to share some of what we have with others it would help ease some of that suffering. Support your local food banks and become aware of programs that are working towards alleviating hunger.

four. Take time to think about why you're eating. So often we eat for reasons other than hunger. Pause

6 7

Marriage and Other Infidelities, by Debra Wierenga, published by Finishing Line Press (available on Amazon.com)

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Page 6

SPECIAL GLASSES ASKS MICHELLE BROTHERHOOD RD, CDE CLINICAL DIETITIAN, RESPIROLOGY/CYSTIC FIBROSIS CLINIC AT ST. MICHAEL’S HOSPITAL: YOU HAVE 5 THINGS TO SAY TO NORTH AMERICANS ABOUT DIET. WHAT WOULD YOU SAY? I love to eat. I understand that sometimes we aren’t going to eat pure, wonderful, healthy food. Here is what I have to say:

nutrients and we also help our environment by buying produce that doesn't have to travel such a long distance to get to our table.

one. Love what you eat! All foods fit into a healthy diet in moderation. Food is meant to be enjoyed!

Savour your favourite foods and spend time eating them with people you care about. Eating should be a positive and fun experience.

three. Take a vitamin D supplement. This is important for Canadians as we are unable to make Vitamin D from the sun between the months of September to March given the angle of the sun. Vitamin D has been linked to bone health, decreasing certain types of cancers, reduced risk of diabetes and the list goes on!

two. Eat more fruit and vegetables.

They are nutrient powerhouses so eat them all day long. Enjoy fruit and vegetables that are in-season and grown locally more often. Inseason produce contains more

for a moment the next time you eat something to ask yourself why you're eating. This is the first step towards eating for the right reasons and a healthier lifestyle. five. Share your food with others.

So many are suffering due to lack of nutritious foods. If we would all take the time to share some of what we have with others it would help ease some of that suffering. Support your local food banks and become aware of programs that are working towards alleviating hunger.

four. Take time to think about why you're eating. So often we eat for reasons other than hunger. Pause

6 7

Marriage and Other Infidelities, by Debra Wierenga, published by Finishing Line Press (available on Amazon.com)

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Page 8

9

8

I love to buy home made jams I imagine the care that goes into the preparation and somehow that adds to the taste...

story: Chris Atack

photographs: Bronwen Sharp

photograph: John Emrys

There is a booth at the St. Lawrence Market north building that sells veggies - I buy sweet carrots, broccoli and butternut squash. One day I noticed a jam.

The man who helps out in the booth told me it was it was Willis’s 90 year old mother who made the jam. I bought it that day and every other week since.

It has no label on it but to me it says Made With Love by Willis's 90 Year Old Mother.

What would your label say?

M.B. responds: I have been thinking and struggling with this one, but I think I have it.

you eating?

This house is built on a rock.

N.C. asks: Is it wise to build a house on a rock? What about the foundation?

what are

M.B. patiently responds: You see the rock IS the foundation - back to the biblical story as well as the moral/ literary admonishment to be true to thyself and the mythology of stable castle walls from the Mesopotamian Myth/ story of St George and the Dragon, core strength of yoga etc.

N.C. asks you dear reader: what would your label say?

Respond to: info@duo.ca

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Page 8

9

8

I love to buy home made jams I imagine the care that goes into the preparation and somehow that adds to the taste...

story: Chris Atack

photographs: Bronwen Sharp

photograph: John Emrys

There is a booth at the St. Lawrence Market north building that sells veggies - I buy sweet carrots, broccoli and butternut squash. One day I noticed a jam.

The man who helps out in the booth told me it was it was Willis’s 90 year old mother who made the jam. I bought it that day and every other week since.

It has no label on it but to me it says Made With Love by Willis's 90 Year Old Mother.

What would your label say?

M.B. responds: I have been thinking and struggling with this one, but I think I have it.

you eating?

This house is built on a rock.

N.C. asks: Is it wise to build a house on a rock? What about the foundation?

what are

M.B. patiently responds: You see the rock IS the foundation - back to the biblical story as well as the moral/ literary admonishment to be true to thyself and the mythology of stable castle walls from the Mesopotamian Myth/ story of St George and the Dragon, core strength of yoga etc.

N.C. asks you dear reader: what would your label say?

Respond to: info@duo.ca

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Page 10

11 DĂŠgustation a careful, appreciative tasting of various foods.

Fashion it's what you make of it.

COMPRESSION

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11 DĂŠgustation a careful, appreciative tasting of various foods.

Fashion it's what you make of it.

COMPRESSION

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Page 12

“I have never cooked with pomegranates, but

beginning a Club Dinner Party Helen Smith

the juice makes a very good “ice”. The juice can

You asked about the process, so here's a bit of history:

now be bought in bottles, and I’d do this, as

First, Stuart and Mike were in Grade 3 together, and got to be really good friends through middle school. Diane and Hilary and Mike were buddies in high school; Stu went to a different school, but remained friends with Mike, so he got to know Diane and Hilary too.

soaking the seeds in water and then squeezing the liquid through cheesecloth is an unnecessary nuisance. Freezing the juice with a “simple syrup” of sugar and water, and mushing it constantly with a fork or handheld blender is not difficult. But somehow, I’d rather have a chef in a good restaurant do all that. I just like the leathery look of pomegranate – and the startling appearance of those tumble of seeds

Then Mike dated Diane... they got married. Stuart dated Helen in university... they got married.

Hilary dated Steve... they got married.

when the fruit is split. “The Song of Solomon”, myth and legend – pomegranates have inspired men and women as long as we have records of the written work, paintings and sculptures.

Exodus 39, King James Bible 'and they made upon the hems/of the robe pomegranates of blue,/ and purple and scarlet, and twined linen/ and they made bells of pure gold, and put the bells between the pomegranates upon the hem of the/robe, round about between the /pomegranates:/ a bell and a pomegranate, a bell/ and a pomegranate,

Threads of Scarlet, Pieces of Pomegranate.

Mary Pratt

round about the/hem of the robe/ to minister in; as the/ Lord commanded Moses.'

The Songs of Solomon Ch. 4 - 3 'Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,/ and thy speech is comely: thy/ temples are like a piece of a/ pomegranate within thy locks.'

12

“Threads of Scarlet, Pieces of Pomegranate” by Mary Pratt.

This work was included in a show at the Mira Godard Gallery in 2006. The text was written for that show.

The six young twentysomethings had fun going to parties, and clubs, and getting together. It just happened, we never had to plan it.

Then we had kids – first Mike & Diane, then Stu & Helen, then Mike & Diane again, Stu & Helen again, then Hilary & Steve.

We never saw each other!

Something had to be done!

I've been told that it was my idea, but it doesn't matter whose idea it was, it was a good one: why not have dinner together every month, with each couple hosting once every three months.

It meant we would book dates to get together, rather than letting time slide by. And at first, that's all it was -- sometimes burgers on the BBQ, sometimes pizza, often a roast and Hilary's wonderful lemon cake!

Each month, after a fantastic dinner, we chat and drink, and eventually, set a date for the following month.

As the kids got older, we found ourselves putting on two feasts -- one for the adults, one for the kids.

The moms got more ambitious... we had themes, capitalizing on Christmas, of course, but also Easter (you haven't lived until you've had Mac & Cheese dyed pastel colours!), Hallowe'en (costume parties are always fun!), Mardi Gras and Cinco de Mayo, a Tuscan dinner after the

Keefes came back from Tuscany, etc. We even did dinner club while camping -- we were the ones with gallons of blue cosmopolitans in plastic martini glasses, and patio lanterns above our picnic table in the woods!

It's been about 15 years – and we're still going strong!

There's a bit of rivalry, with all of us in awe of Stuart's gourmet tendencies, Diane's fabulous way with decor and party planning, Mike's custom CDs of music we all love, and Hilary and Steve's magical backyard gazebo, the perfect spot from which to enjoy a summer evening.

Every month is different, and special, and always great fun. Our children have grown up together, enjoying one another's company in the same way as their parents have done.

It's kept our families close, and our friendship has only grown over the years.

We've served as one another's bridesmaids, and godparents to one another's children. Can't wait for next month...

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Page 12

“I have never cooked with pomegranates, but

beginning a Club Dinner Party Helen Smith

the juice makes a very good “ice”. The juice can

You asked about the process, so here's a bit of history:

now be bought in bottles, and I’d do this, as

First, Stuart and Mike were in Grade 3 together, and got to be really good friends through middle school. Diane and Hilary and Mike were buddies in high school; Stu went to a different school, but remained friends with Mike, so he got to know Diane and Hilary too.

soaking the seeds in water and then squeezing the liquid through cheesecloth is an unnecessary nuisance. Freezing the juice with a “simple syrup” of sugar and water, and mushing it constantly with a fork or handheld blender is not difficult. But somehow, I’d rather have a chef in a good restaurant do all that. I just like the leathery look of pomegranate – and the startling appearance of those tumble of seeds

Then Mike dated Diane... they got married. Stuart dated Helen in university... they got married.

Hilary dated Steve... they got married.

when the fruit is split. “The Song of Solomon”, myth and legend – pomegranates have inspired men and women as long as we have records of the written work, paintings and sculptures.

Exodus 39, King James Bible 'and they made upon the hems/of the robe pomegranates of blue,/ and purple and scarlet, and twined linen/ and they made bells of pure gold, and put the bells between the pomegranates upon the hem of the/robe, round about between the /pomegranates:/ a bell and a pomegranate, a bell/ and a pomegranate,

Threads of Scarlet, Pieces of Pomegranate.

Mary Pratt

round about the/hem of the robe/ to minister in; as the/ Lord commanded Moses.'

The Songs of Solomon Ch. 4 - 3 'Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,/ and thy speech is comely: thy/ temples are like a piece of a/ pomegranate within thy locks.'

12

“Threads of Scarlet, Pieces of Pomegranate” by Mary Pratt.

This work was included in a show at the Mira Godard Gallery in 2006. The text was written for that show.

The six young twentysomethings had fun going to parties, and clubs, and getting together. It just happened, we never had to plan it.

Then we had kids – first Mike & Diane, then Stu & Helen, then Mike & Diane again, Stu & Helen again, then Hilary & Steve.

We never saw each other!

Something had to be done!

I've been told that it was my idea, but it doesn't matter whose idea it was, it was a good one: why not have dinner together every month, with each couple hosting once every three months.

It meant we would book dates to get together, rather than letting time slide by. And at first, that's all it was -- sometimes burgers on the BBQ, sometimes pizza, often a roast and Hilary's wonderful lemon cake!

Each month, after a fantastic dinner, we chat and drink, and eventually, set a date for the following month.

As the kids got older, we found ourselves putting on two feasts -- one for the adults, one for the kids.

The moms got more ambitious... we had themes, capitalizing on Christmas, of course, but also Easter (you haven't lived until you've had Mac & Cheese dyed pastel colours!), Hallowe'en (costume parties are always fun!), Mardi Gras and Cinco de Mayo, a Tuscan dinner after the

Keefes came back from Tuscany, etc. We even did dinner club while camping -- we were the ones with gallons of blue cosmopolitans in plastic martini glasses, and patio lanterns above our picnic table in the woods!

It's been about 15 years – and we're still going strong!

There's a bit of rivalry, with all of us in awe of Stuart's gourmet tendencies, Diane's fabulous way with decor and party planning, Mike's custom CDs of music we all love, and Hilary and Steve's magical backyard gazebo, the perfect spot from which to enjoy a summer evening.

Every month is different, and special, and always great fun. Our children have grown up together, enjoying one another's company in the same way as their parents have done.

It's kept our families close, and our friendship has only grown over the years.

We've served as one another's bridesmaids, and godparents to one another's children. Can't wait for next month...

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Page 14

LIAM SHARP VISITED ETHIOPIA IN AUGUST 2003. HE TOOK THIS PHOTOGRAPH OF A FAMILY IN THE SINGLE ROOM THAT CONSTITUTES THEIR HOME WITH THEIR WEALTH, A BAG OF WHEAT, VISIBLE ON THE TABLE. LIAM STRESSED THAT THESE PEOPLE ARE VERY FORTUNATE COMPARED TO MANY WHO LIVE IN ABSOLUTE POVERTY. TO PROVIDE SOME CONTEXT WE ASKED DR. PETER GINMAN, WHO WORKED AS A TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE COORDINATOR TO THE UNITED NATIONS CONFERENCE ON TRADE AND DEVELOPMENT (UNCTAD)* TO COMMENT ON THE SITUATION IN ETHIOPIA RELATIVE TO THE COUNTRY’S NEED FOR FOREIGN ASSISTANCE AND SPECIFICALLY TO TELL US HOW CANADA CAN HELP.

Ethiopia A World Away My last visit to Ethiopia was twenty years ago on a technical assistance mission for the United Nations. During my mission, I saw first-hand the basic needs of the populace, both in the capital city of Addis Ababa and in the countryside where we stayed for a seminar for five days in the small village south of the capital. There I witnessed the most abject poverty I have ever seen in my UN missions to over 70 developing countries in all regions of the world.

Ethiopia is one of the poorest countries in the world. With a population greater than that of Canada, its people live below the poverty level and scratch out a living in a largely agricultural-based economy. Its exports of coffee and other raw materials are subject to erratic export fluctuations and consequently volatile foreign exchange earnings.

These earnings are needed for basic manufactures and other inputs are required to build an adequate infrastructure. Caught in this trap, the most basic tangible assistance is required to, among other things, build roads, irrigation systems, and provide relevant education and training needs. Whatever form the technical assistance takes, it should be monitored by the country giving aid to ensure the objectives are met. The provision of equipment and other relevant requirements are for naught if they cannot be properly maintained and repaired by the local operators. In Ethiopia, decades of corrupt governments and a “Marxist” philosophy of a “command” economy provided little basis for the organization of a technical body to administer and coordinate technical assistance projects.

As coordinator of United Nations (UNCTAD) technical assistance projects concerning developing country export possibilities, I saw the importance of relevant foreign assistance.

Canadians enjoy a reputation for being empathetic to the plight of developing countries in need and make these feelings known through the political process. The Government, through its Ministry of Foreign Affairs, provides grants, loans and via the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), gives project specific funding.

Individual Canadians through their votes can continue putting pressure on the political parties to keep these efforts high on the agenda.

I hope that Canada continues its fine work.

Ginman was a professor of Economics, and taught at Boston University and the State University of New York (SUNY) before he joined the UN where he traveled to over seventy developing countries. Ginman is now retired and living on Vancouver Island.

14

*In the early 1960s, growing concerns about the place of developing countries in international trade led many of these countries to call for the convening of a full-fledged conference specifically devoted to tackling these problems and identifying appropriate international actions.

15

The first United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) was held in Geneva in 1964. Given the magnitude of the problems at stake and the need to address them, the conference was institutionalized to meet every four years, with intergovernmental bodies meeting between sessions and a permanent secretariat providing the necessary substantive and logistical support.

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LIAM SHARP VISITED ETHIOPIA IN AUGUST 2003. HE TOOK THIS PHOTOGRAPH OF A FAMILY IN THE SINGLE ROOM THAT CONSTITUTES THEIR HOME WITH THEIR WEALTH, A BAG OF WHEAT, VISIBLE ON THE TABLE. LIAM STRESSED THAT THESE PEOPLE ARE VERY FORTUNATE COMPARED TO MANY WHO LIVE IN ABSOLUTE POVERTY. TO PROVIDE SOME CONTEXT WE ASKED DR. PETER GINMAN, WHO WORKED AS A TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE COORDINATOR TO THE UNITED NATIONS CONFERENCE ON TRADE AND DEVELOPMENT (UNCTAD)* TO COMMENT ON THE SITUATION IN ETHIOPIA RELATIVE TO THE COUNTRY’S NEED FOR FOREIGN ASSISTANCE AND SPECIFICALLY TO TELL US HOW CANADA CAN HELP.

Ethiopia A World Away My last visit to Ethiopia was twenty years ago on a technical assistance mission for the United Nations. During my mission, I saw first-hand the basic needs of the populace, both in the capital city of Addis Ababa and in the countryside where we stayed for a seminar for five days in the small village south of the capital. There I witnessed the most abject poverty I have ever seen in my UN missions to over 70 developing countries in all regions of the world.

Ethiopia is one of the poorest countries in the world. With a population greater than that of Canada, its people live below the poverty level and scratch out a living in a largely agricultural-based economy. Its exports of coffee and other raw materials are subject to erratic export fluctuations and consequently volatile foreign exchange earnings.

These earnings are needed for basic manufactures and other inputs are required to build an adequate infrastructure. Caught in this trap, the most basic tangible assistance is required to, among other things, build roads, irrigation systems, and provide relevant education and training needs. Whatever form the technical assistance takes, it should be monitored by the country giving aid to ensure the objectives are met. The provision of equipment and other relevant requirements are for naught if they cannot be properly maintained and repaired by the local operators. In Ethiopia, decades of corrupt governments and a “Marxist” philosophy of a “command” economy provided little basis for the organization of a technical body to administer and coordinate technical assistance projects.

As coordinator of United Nations (UNCTAD) technical assistance projects concerning developing country export possibilities, I saw the importance of relevant foreign assistance.

Canadians enjoy a reputation for being empathetic to the plight of developing countries in need and make these feelings known through the political process. The Government, through its Ministry of Foreign Affairs, provides grants, loans and via the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), gives project specific funding.

Individual Canadians through their votes can continue putting pressure on the political parties to keep these efforts high on the agenda.

I hope that Canada continues its fine work.

Ginman was a professor of Economics, and taught at Boston University and the State University of New York (SUNY) before he joined the UN where he traveled to over seventy developing countries. Ginman is now retired and living on Vancouver Island.

14

*In the early 1960s, growing concerns about the place of developing countries in international trade led many of these countries to call for the convening of a full-fledged conference specifically devoted to tackling these problems and identifying appropriate international actions.

15

The first United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) was held in Geneva in 1964. Given the magnitude of the problems at stake and the need to address them, the conference was institutionalized to meet every four years, with intergovernmental bodies meeting between sessions and a permanent secretariat providing the necessary substantive and logistical support.

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Page 16

Every Saturday morning, I drive to the St. Lawrence Market before my family is awake. Usually I pick up one or two friends along the way. It's quite early so we are mostly silent. Our attire is roll-outof-bed disheveled. I think about my double espresso long and cinnamon crepe...

S

L

O

W

Going to the market is an exercise in slowing down. It is virtually impossible to shop quickly. I start in the North Market where the vendors have been up since long before dawn packing trucks and driving to Toronto from Guelph, Dundalk, Caledon and beyond. I was at the market last week at 6:00 am and it was pretty much business as usual minus the crepes.

F

O

O

D

For most people moving/developing/growing/being FASTER is the accepted norm. The computer mentality is generalized and we expect not only change but also the rate of change to steadily increase.

While FASTER might work in many areas, our bodies are not built to accept change at an ever escalating rate.

At the front doors of the North Market, a familiar face greets me. This is Ken who has been selling the Toronto Street News and watching people’s pets for as long as I can remember. Life is hard for Ken yet he is always courteous with a ready smile.

For the past 50 to 80 years, we have been evolving our food supply because of our need for increased output and our desire for near perfect quality. The evolution of our food is considerably more rapid than our bodies can evolve.

I start up the first aisle toward the northwest corner, I pass honey and beeswax candles - I still have inventory of both. I glance at the elk slippers and mitts (I have both) and think about whom else I can buy them for. I search longingly for the large bison skin which I visualize under my desk, bare feet sunk ankle deep into the fur.

There are three areas people need to be conscious of when they think about food and its level of quality: 1) Transportation 2) Food security 3) Digestion

Here is Jorge with his organic produce. By his own admission, Jorge is a man who has done a lot of living and he promises to tell me his story over a warm drink.

This is another reason why the market is a slow affair there is so much to talk about with so many different market friends. Sometimes a spontaneous conversation begins and other customers join in about the best way to cook this or the best wine to have with that…

A few tables up and over, Linda Rose [of LINDA'S GARDEN] offers small tumblers of warm tea while she discusses the virtues of her Ontario-grown wildcrafted herbs.

I take a number at the Rowe Farms booth and look for John Rowe, owner and Slow Food catalyst. John has been inspired to begin a rant on the subject of Slow Food and Back to the Basics Farming. So begins John’s rant: Nora has been thinking about the value of Slow Foods.

She knows me through my booth, Rowe Farms, in the north building at St. Lawrence Market. I am a farmer raising cattle and I keep a focus on land stewardship. For me, farming began as a thoughtful process rather then a default position. In the 1960s, my family and I began growing drug-free beef as a kind of hobby because we wanted to address some of the food quality concerns we had. This is when antibiotics and hormones were not thought of as the harmful factors we know they are today.

Local and slow go together. Today we are trying to consider what's best for us, AND the world in which we live.

16

1) The mechanics of internal combustion engines changed the potential of food to travel. There are many benefits as well as liabilities; bacteria travels easily and we get exposed to strains we haven’t learned to tolerate. There’s the issue of freshness and the loss of nutrients. We breed beef for stability and then volume but often nutrition moves down in priority. There is serious environmental cost and land nutrient degradation associated with typical commercial farming.

2) Moving food long distances brings freeloaders like mold and pathogenic bacteria. Our bodies and our culture have adapted to our locality by developing resist-

ance and we have culturally developed preparation patterns to maximize the benefits of our food. We have changed our food supply from culture to business and the changes have at times left our bodies in the dust.

In the last half-century the balance in our diet has changed dramatically and our lifestyle treats proper diet as an afterthought. This is only two or three generations which isn't long for the genetic adaptive process applied to natural rhythms. Long distance also gives opportunity for many unknown changes. Distant food gives little security. Are standards met? Did things happen over time and distance? What are the growing conditions? Apparently one third of China's agricultural land is polluted. Bodies need predictability.

Local growing allows more opportunity for our bodies to adapt. The worldwide food web has saved lives but is it right for now?

3) The fast food world looks at convenience more than quality of nutrition are chips the best way to utilize a potato? We assume that we understand nutrition but get surprised by trans fats among other downsides of production. We have evolved slowly and by observation we tended toward getting the most from our food. Many of us believe that change is inevitable but that a slower approach to food change is necessary for evaluation and to allow our bodies to adapt and benefit.

The current international food model increases system stress within our bodies and many people now accept the ability of slower preparation to gain nutrient

absorption. Natural, slower growing of animals allows animal physiologies to change and to complete at their own rate. Appropriate

rates affect flavour, texture and ultimately, nutritive value.

Other natural processes should also be looked at – such as how we best (most efficiently) glean net calories from sunlight. At our own peril, we can’t ignore maintaining soil health and fail to consider the nonrenewable resources involved.

Health is affected by eating style.

Slow and lively affects digestion and absorption. I think Slow Food is not only about preparation – it’s about our buried capability to be aware of what we eat, where it comes from and how it got there.

In 2004, Slow Food opened a University of Gastronomic Sciences at Pollenzo, in Piedmont, and Colorno, in Emilia-Romagna, Italy. The goal is to promote awareness of good food and nutrition. The Slow Food movement was founded by Carlo Petrini in Italy as a resistance movement to combat fast food and claims to preserve the cultural cuisine and the associated food plants and seeds, domestic animals, and farming within an ecoregion. www.slowfood.com Slow Food International believes that everyone has a fundamental right to pleasure and consequently the responsibility to protect the

heritage of food, tradition and culture that makes this pleasure possible. The movement is founded upon this concept of eco-gastronomy – recognition of the strong connections between plate and planet. www.slowfood.ca Slow Food Canada’s web site has Slow Food event and news listings from across Canada.

I continue on and buy goat’s cheese from Stephanie, sheep’s cheese from Ruth and whole grain bagels from Shabetay, who operates St. Urbain Bagels.

Fresh hand made whole wheat pasta and pesto come from Aziz who operates St. Lawrence Pizza and Pasta.

Most of the vendors that I frequent at the St. Lawrence Market have been selling there for twenty plus years. I shop slowly and I try to cook slower.

Sincerely, a “localvore”

17

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Page 16

Every Saturday morning, I drive to the St. Lawrence Market before my family is awake. Usually I pick up one or two friends along the way. It's quite early so we are mostly silent. Our attire is roll-outof-bed disheveled. I think about my double espresso long and cinnamon crepe...

S

L

O

W

Going to the market is an exercise in slowing down. It is virtually impossible to shop quickly. I start in the North Market where the vendors have been up since long before dawn packing trucks and driving to Toronto from Guelph, Dundalk, Caledon and beyond. I was at the market last week at 6:00 am and it was pretty much business as usual minus the crepes.

F

O

O

D

For most people moving/developing/growing/being FASTER is the accepted norm. The computer mentality is generalized and we expect not only change but also the rate of change to steadily increase.

While FASTER might work in many areas, our bodies are not built to accept change at an ever escalating rate.

At the front doors of the North Market, a familiar face greets me. This is Ken who has been selling the Toronto Street News and watching people’s pets for as long as I can remember. Life is hard for Ken yet he is always courteous with a ready smile.

For the past 50 to 80 years, we have been evolving our food supply because of our need for increased output and our desire for near perfect quality. The evolution of our food is considerably more rapid than our bodies can evolve.

I start up the first aisle toward the northwest corner, I pass honey and beeswax candles - I still have inventory of both. I glance at the elk slippers and mitts (I have both) and think about whom else I can buy them for. I search longingly for the large bison skin which I visualize under my desk, bare feet sunk ankle deep into the fur.

There are three areas people need to be conscious of when they think about food and its level of quality: 1) Transportation 2) Food security 3) Digestion

Here is Jorge with his organic produce. By his own admission, Jorge is a man who has done a lot of living and he promises to tell me his story over a warm drink.

This is another reason why the market is a slow affair there is so much to talk about with so many different market friends. Sometimes a spontaneous conversation begins and other customers join in about the best way to cook this or the best wine to have with that…

A few tables up and over, Linda Rose [of LINDA'S GARDEN] offers small tumblers of warm tea while she discusses the virtues of her Ontario-grown wildcrafted herbs.

I take a number at the Rowe Farms booth and look for John Rowe, owner and Slow Food catalyst. John has been inspired to begin a rant on the subject of Slow Food and Back to the Basics Farming. So begins John’s rant: Nora has been thinking about the value of Slow Foods.

She knows me through my booth, Rowe Farms, in the north building at St. Lawrence Market. I am a farmer raising cattle and I keep a focus on land stewardship. For me, farming began as a thoughtful process rather then a default position. In the 1960s, my family and I began growing drug-free beef as a kind of hobby because we wanted to address some of the food quality concerns we had. This is when antibiotics and hormones were not thought of as the harmful factors we know they are today.

Local and slow go together. Today we are trying to consider what's best for us, AND the world in which we live.

16

1) The mechanics of internal combustion engines changed the potential of food to travel. There are many benefits as well as liabilities; bacteria travels easily and we get exposed to strains we haven’t learned to tolerate. There’s the issue of freshness and the loss of nutrients. We breed beef for stability and then volume but often nutrition moves down in priority. There is serious environmental cost and land nutrient degradation associated with typical commercial farming.

2) Moving food long distances brings freeloaders like mold and pathogenic bacteria. Our bodies and our culture have adapted to our locality by developing resist-

ance and we have culturally developed preparation patterns to maximize the benefits of our food. We have changed our food supply from culture to business and the changes have at times left our bodies in the dust.

In the last half-century the balance in our diet has changed dramatically and our lifestyle treats proper diet as an afterthought. This is only two or three generations which isn't long for the genetic adaptive process applied to natural rhythms. Long distance also gives opportunity for many unknown changes. Distant food gives little security. Are standards met? Did things happen over time and distance? What are the growing conditions? Apparently one third of China's agricultural land is polluted. Bodies need predictability.

Local growing allows more opportunity for our bodies to adapt. The worldwide food web has saved lives but is it right for now?

3) The fast food world looks at convenience more than quality of nutrition are chips the best way to utilize a potato? We assume that we understand nutrition but get surprised by trans fats among other downsides of production. We have evolved slowly and by observation we tended toward getting the most from our food. Many of us believe that change is inevitable but that a slower approach to food change is necessary for evaluation and to allow our bodies to adapt and benefit.

The current international food model increases system stress within our bodies and many people now accept the ability of slower preparation to gain nutrient

absorption. Natural, slower growing of animals allows animal physiologies to change and to complete at their own rate. Appropriate

rates affect flavour, texture and ultimately, nutritive value.

Other natural processes should also be looked at – such as how we best (most efficiently) glean net calories from sunlight. At our own peril, we can’t ignore maintaining soil health and fail to consider the nonrenewable resources involved.

Health is affected by eating style.

Slow and lively affects digestion and absorption. I think Slow Food is not only about preparation – it’s about our buried capability to be aware of what we eat, where it comes from and how it got there.

In 2004, Slow Food opened a University of Gastronomic Sciences at Pollenzo, in Piedmont, and Colorno, in Emilia-Romagna, Italy. The goal is to promote awareness of good food and nutrition. The Slow Food movement was founded by Carlo Petrini in Italy as a resistance movement to combat fast food and claims to preserve the cultural cuisine and the associated food plants and seeds, domestic animals, and farming within an ecoregion. www.slowfood.com Slow Food International believes that everyone has a fundamental right to pleasure and consequently the responsibility to protect the

heritage of food, tradition and culture that makes this pleasure possible. The movement is founded upon this concept of eco-gastronomy – recognition of the strong connections between plate and planet. www.slowfood.ca Slow Food Canada’s web site has Slow Food event and news listings from across Canada.

I continue on and buy goat’s cheese from Stephanie, sheep’s cheese from Ruth and whole grain bagels from Shabetay, who operates St. Urbain Bagels.

Fresh hand made whole wheat pasta and pesto come from Aziz who operates St. Lawrence Pizza and Pasta.

Most of the vendors that I frequent at the St. Lawrence Market have been selling there for twenty plus years. I shop slowly and I try to cook slower.

Sincerely, a “localvore”

17

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Page 18

Photograph: Liam Sharp

19 TEMPORARY MIGRANT WORKER SHOT IN A KIBBUTZ IN ISRAEL – LIAM SHARP

THE NEGEV REGION HAS DEVELOPED VERY ADVANCED TECHNIQUES TO GROW VEGETABLES IN THE DESERT.

ONE MORE JOINS THE CULT. On a camping trip in Algonquin Park, I was developing a nasty hankering for a hamburger. No amount of fresh fish, camp stew, or trail mix could satisfy my mounting desire.

I made my way half way round the lake to the general store to indulge my red meat fantasy; impatiently waited the 10 minutes it took for the grill to delicately blacken the patty beyond all recognition of meat; and was up to my eye teeth in hamburger when the cook started laughing.

It seems I had wolfed down a Soy Burger and not a carnivorous delight! Never mind, it was fabulous, wonderful and amazing. If this was a veggie burger – I was a convert! I had joined the ranks of a growing cult and would eat a Soy burger every chance I got for the rest of my life.

Photograph: Henry Feather

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Page 18

Photograph: Liam Sharp

19 TEMPORARY MIGRANT WORKER SHOT IN A KIBBUTZ IN ISRAEL – LIAM SHARP

THE NEGEV REGION HAS DEVELOPED VERY ADVANCED TECHNIQUES TO GROW VEGETABLES IN THE DESERT.

ONE MORE JOINS THE CULT. On a camping trip in Algonquin Park, I was developing a nasty hankering for a hamburger. No amount of fresh fish, camp stew, or trail mix could satisfy my mounting desire.

I made my way half way round the lake to the general store to indulge my red meat fantasy; impatiently waited the 10 minutes it took for the grill to delicately blacken the patty beyond all recognition of meat; and was up to my eye teeth in hamburger when the cook started laughing.

It seems I had wolfed down a Soy Burger and not a carnivorous delight! Never mind, it was fabulous, wonderful and amazing. If this was a veggie burger – I was a convert! I had joined the ranks of a growing cult and would eat a Soy burger every chance I got for the rest of my life.

Photograph: Henry Feather

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Page 20

This day, I thankfully accept all way. This day is full of excitement, This day, people are calling on me respond by giving my best. This in my life, refusing to accept health. This day, I accept the is mine and willingly share it

of the good things that are coming my love, energy, health and prosperity. to be of service to them and I day, I think and practice health a n y t h i n g l ess t h a n perfect abundance and prosperity that with others. This day, I focus on

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Page 20

This day, I thankfully accept all way. This day is full of excitement, This day, people are calling on me respond by giving my best. This in my life, refusing to accept health. This day, I accept the is mine and willingly share it

of the good things that are coming my love, energy, health and prosperity. to be of service to them and I day, I think and practice health a n y t h i n g l ess t h a n perfect abundance and prosperity that with others. This day, I focus on

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Page 22

the moment and give no thought day, I spend in total enjoyment with loving thoughts and actions myself. This day, I spend in is mine. This day, this hour, this have and I choose to use it in Larry Winget

to the past or to the future. This of what I do. This day, I fill toward all other people and grateful appreciation of all that minute, this moment is all that I celebration.

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Page 22

the moment and give no thought day, I spend in total enjoyment with loving thoughts and actions myself. This day, I spend in is mine. This day, this hour, this have and I choose to use it in Larry Winget

to the past or to the future. This of what I do. This day, I fill toward all other people and grateful appreciation of all that minute, this moment is all that I celebration.

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Page 24

Never Mind Counting Sheep [Calories]

The cost of producing 1kg sheep cheese, the main product in sheep dairying, is approximately $8 compared to $5 for goat cheese and $3 for the same cheese made from cow milk.

At least two dozen different dairy sheep breeds are recognized, mainly in the Mediterranean area, with different genetic milk yield merits, but all distinguished by higher milk fat and protein levels than in goat and cow milk.

Sheep milk has a superior composition, in relative terms, compared to the composition of human, cow and goat milk and in such critical nutrients as protein, calcium, iron, magnesium, zinc, thiamine, riboflavin, vitamin B6, vitamin B12, vitamin D, medium chain fatty acids, mono-unsaturated fatty acids, linolenic acid, and all 10 essential amino acids.

Today's consumer is much more interested in low-fat than whole milk and whole sheep milk has a much higher fat content than cow milk. So why choose sheep cheese and milk?

One reason is the significant nutrients.

Another reason is artisanal production of sheep cheeses and yogurt.

A third reason could see sheep milk as an alternative to cow milk in cases of cow milk allergy – though there isn’t enough proof to be conclusive on that count.

Sheep milk cheese is absolutely delicious and I stop by Ruth Klahsen’s booth at the St. Lawrence Market [www.monfortedairy.com] to pick up a rosemary covered cheese, Belle, (that used to be called BLISS - it is!) and Bauman’s Smoke which is naturally smoked over maple hardwood in a Mennonite family smoke house.

Scientific Details derived from an article by George F. W. Haenlein, Department of Animal & Food Sciences, University of Delaware, Newark USA

24

Are you eating at the end of an industrial food chain? ...countries, such as Italy and France, ... decide their dinner questions on the basis of such quaint and unscientific criteria as pleasure and tradition, eat all manner of “unhealthy” foods, and, lo and behold, wind up actually healthier and happier in their eating than we are. We show our surprise at this by speaking of something called the “French paradox,” for how could a people who eat such demonstrably toxic substances as foie gras and triple crème cheese actually be slimmer and healthier than we are? Yet I wonder if it doesn’t make more sense to peak in terms of an American paradox— that is, a notably unhealthy people obsessed by the idea of eating healthily.

TO ONE DEGREE or another, the question of what to have for dinner assails every omnivore, and always has.

When you can eat just about anything nature has to offer, deciding what you should eat will inevitably stir anxiety, especially when some of the potential foods on offer are liable to sicken or kill you. This is the omnivore’s dilemma, noted long ago by writers like Rousseau and Brillat-Savarin and first given that name thirty years ago by a University of Pennsylvania research psychologist named Paul Rozin. I’ve borrowed his phrase for the title of this book because the omnivore’s dilemma turns out to be a particularly sharp tool for understanding our present predicaments surrounding food. In a 1976 paper called “The Selection of Foods by Rats, Humans, and Other Animals”, Rozin contrasted the omnivore’s existential situation with that of the specialized eater, for whom the dinner question could not be simpler. The koala bear doesn’t worry about what’s for dinner: If it looks and smells and tastes like a eucalyptus leaf, it must be dinner. The koala’s culinary preferences are hardwired in its genes. But for omnivores like us (and the rat) a vast amount of brain space and time must be devoted to figuring out which of all the many potential dishes nature lays on are safe to eat. We rely on our prodigious powers of recognition and memory to guide us away from poisons (Isn’t that the mushroom that made me sick last week?) and toward nutritious plants (The red berries are the juicier, sweeter ones).Our taste buds help too, predisposing us toward sweetness, which signals carbohydrate energy in nature, and away from bitterness, which is how many of the toxic alkaloids produced by plants taste. Our inborn sense of disgust keeps us from ingesting things that might infect us, such as rotten meat. Many anthropologists believe

that the reason we evolved such big and intricate brains was precisely to help us deal with the omnivore’s dilemma. Being a generalist is of course a great boon as well as a challenge; It is what allows humans to successfully inhabit virtually every terrestrial environment on the planet. Omnivory offers the pleasures of variety, too. But the surfeit of choice brings a lot of stress with it and has led to a kind of Manichaean view of food, a division of nature into The Good Things to Eat, and The Bad...

“Eating is an agricultural act,” as Wendell Berry famously said. It is also an ecological act, and a political act, too. Though much has been done to obscure this simple fact, how and what we eat determines to a great extent the use we make of the world—and what is to become of it. To eat with a fuller consciousness of all that is at stake might sound like a burden, but in practice few things in life afford quite as much satisfaction. By comparison, the pleasures of eating industrially, which is to say eating in ignorance, are fleeting.

Many people today seem perfectly content eating at the end of an industrial food chain, without a thought in the world: this book is probably not for them; there are things in it that will ruin their appetite. But in the end this is a book about the pleasures of eating, the kind of pleasures that are only deepened by knowing.

Excerpted from the book Omnivore’s Dilemma, A Natural History of Four Meals,

by Michael Pollan, Author of In Defense of Food.

25

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2/5/08

10:55 AM

Page 24

Never Mind Counting Sheep [Calories]

The cost of producing 1kg sheep cheese, the main product in sheep dairying, is approximately $8 compared to $5 for goat cheese and $3 for the same cheese made from cow milk.

At least two dozen different dairy sheep breeds are recognized, mainly in the Mediterranean area, with different genetic milk yield merits, but all distinguished by higher milk fat and protein levels than in goat and cow milk.

Sheep milk has a superior composition, in relative terms, compared to the composition of human, cow and goat milk and in such critical nutrients as protein, calcium, iron, magnesium, zinc, thiamine, riboflavin, vitamin B6, vitamin B12, vitamin D, medium chain fatty acids, mono-unsaturated fatty acids, linolenic acid, and all 10 essential amino acids.

Today's consumer is much more interested in low-fat than whole milk and whole sheep milk has a much higher fat content than cow milk. So why choose sheep cheese and milk?

One reason is the significant nutrients.

Another reason is artisanal production of sheep cheeses and yogurt.

A third reason could see sheep milk as an alternative to cow milk in cases of cow milk allergy – though there isn’t enough proof to be conclusive on that count.

Sheep milk cheese is absolutely delicious and I stop by Ruth Klahsen’s booth at the St. Lawrence Market [www.monfortedairy.com] to pick up a rosemary covered cheese, Belle, (that used to be called BLISS - it is!) and Bauman’s Smoke which is naturally smoked over maple hardwood in a Mennonite family smoke house.

Scientific Details derived from an article by George F. W. Haenlein, Department of Animal & Food Sciences, University of Delaware, Newark USA

24

Are you eating at the end of an industrial food chain? ...countries, such as Italy and France, ... decide their dinner questions on the basis of such quaint and unscientific criteria as pleasure and tradition, eat all manner of “unhealthy” foods, and, lo and behold, wind up actually healthier and happier in their eating than we are. We show our surprise at this by speaking of something called the “French paradox,” for how could a people who eat such demonstrably toxic substances as foie gras and triple crème cheese actually be slimmer and healthier than we are? Yet I wonder if it doesn’t make more sense to peak in terms of an American paradox— that is, a notably unhealthy people obsessed by the idea of eating healthily.

TO ONE DEGREE or another, the question of what to have for dinner assails every omnivore, and always has.

When you can eat just about anything nature has to offer, deciding what you should eat will inevitably stir anxiety, especially when some of the potential foods on offer are liable to sicken or kill you. This is the omnivore’s dilemma, noted long ago by writers like Rousseau and Brillat-Savarin and first given that name thirty years ago by a University of Pennsylvania research psychologist named Paul Rozin. I’ve borrowed his phrase for the title of this book because the omnivore’s dilemma turns out to be a particularly sharp tool for understanding our present predicaments surrounding food. In a 1976 paper called “The Selection of Foods by Rats, Humans, and Other Animals”, Rozin contrasted the omnivore’s existential situation with that of the specialized eater, for whom the dinner question could not be simpler. The koala bear doesn’t worry about what’s for dinner: If it looks and smells and tastes like a eucalyptus leaf, it must be dinner. The koala’s culinary preferences are hardwired in its genes. But for omnivores like us (and the rat) a vast amount of brain space and time must be devoted to figuring out which of all the many potential dishes nature lays on are safe to eat. We rely on our prodigious powers of recognition and memory to guide us away from poisons (Isn’t that the mushroom that made me sick last week?) and toward nutritious plants (The red berries are the juicier, sweeter ones).Our taste buds help too, predisposing us toward sweetness, which signals carbohydrate energy in nature, and away from bitterness, which is how many of the toxic alkaloids produced by plants taste. Our inborn sense of disgust keeps us from ingesting things that might infect us, such as rotten meat. Many anthropologists believe

that the reason we evolved such big and intricate brains was precisely to help us deal with the omnivore’s dilemma. Being a generalist is of course a great boon as well as a challenge; It is what allows humans to successfully inhabit virtually every terrestrial environment on the planet. Omnivory offers the pleasures of variety, too. But the surfeit of choice brings a lot of stress with it and has led to a kind of Manichaean view of food, a division of nature into The Good Things to Eat, and The Bad...

“Eating is an agricultural act,” as Wendell Berry famously said. It is also an ecological act, and a political act, too. Though much has been done to obscure this simple fact, how and what we eat determines to a great extent the use we make of the world—and what is to become of it. To eat with a fuller consciousness of all that is at stake might sound like a burden, but in practice few things in life afford quite as much satisfaction. By comparison, the pleasures of eating industrially, which is to say eating in ignorance, are fleeting.

Many people today seem perfectly content eating at the end of an industrial food chain, without a thought in the world: this book is probably not for them; there are things in it that will ruin their appetite. But in the end this is a book about the pleasures of eating, the kind of pleasures that are only deepened by knowing.

Excerpted from the book Omnivore’s Dilemma, A Natural History of Four Meals,

by Michael Pollan, Author of In Defense of Food.

25

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Page 26

HERE ARE WARS AND THERE ARE BATTLES. SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL, WHOLESOME,

VOLUPTUOUS. WHO CAN WIN A BATTLE WITH AN IMAGINARY FOE?

Photographs: Michelle Gibson

27

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:56 AM

Page 26

HERE ARE WARS AND THERE ARE BATTLES. SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL, WHOLESOME,

VOLUPTUOUS. WHO CAN WIN A BATTLE WITH AN IMAGINARY FOE?

Photographs: Michelle Gibson

27

2/5/08

10:56 AM

Page 28

And a

Dinner parties can be the most intimate and memorable of all social events, combining food, wine, story telling, laughter — and even sometimes high drama. Samuel Pepys, the famous diarist said: “Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting recon-

Feature Film Featuring Food

“My soul spills into yours and is blended Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance, I cherish it”.

What’s the secret power of a great dinner party? I believe it’s the loving intention in the food.

ciles everybody”.

The symposium by Plato features a legendary dinner party. Although not much is mentioned about the food served to a group of Athenian insiders celebrating the poet Agathon’s literary prize, things heat up as the guests take turns delivering spontaneous speeches on the nature of love. (Talk about putting your guests on the spot!)

The climax is when Alcibiades shows up roaring drunk and bemoans his failure to seduce Socrates—notwithstanding his many attempts—including the old ‘let’s rassle’ trick and the old ‘I’m cold, come on over and cuddle with me, Socrates’ trick.

Good food preparation is alchemy, pure and simple. Nothing less than magic, it’s the devotional art of infusing love into edible ingredients.

And as the love permeates the food and the conversation and the guests’ thoughts and feelings, they too experience a blending just as profoundly as the arugula and tomato and garlic and olive oil are blended, giving and receiving each others’ essences.

I’m sure everyone has attended a dinner party or two where a drunken husband or wife unwittingly provides the evening’s entertainment. I’ve been witness to people falling in love—between the cream of broccoli soup and the grilled salmon. And I’ve seen a table full of trial lawyers turn misty over a poignant sharing from the heart by one brave participant.

There have been a number of films in recent years attempting to depict the transforming effect food can have on a group.

‘Like Water for Chocolate’, ‘The Big Night’ and ‘Chocolat’ are a few examples that come quickly to mind. ‘Babette’s Feast’ is the granddaddy of them all. Set in a Danish fishing village in the late 1800s, it’s the story of a French chef who invests 10,000 French francs—her whole fortune—in a celebration dinner attended by a dozen religious puritans who have resolved to ignore their senses in favour of ceaseless contemplation of the divine.

It’s as though we deliver ourselves up to our hosts and each other to be heard and received and revered and loved and admired when we agree to attend such an intimate event as a dinner party.

Based on a story by Karen Blixen (aka Isak Dinesen of Out of Africa fame), the theme of Babette's feast is that great art transforms, even if the transformees are in a stubborn state of denial.

Rumi, the incomparable Sufi poet declared, probably in mid-rumination over his beloved, Shams of Tabriz:

The tantalizing punchline of the film is that even as Babette is serving up an astonishing and utterly unreplicatable feast, all the

participants but one are resolutely in denial that it’s happening. The feast is offered in honour of their spiritual leader, long dead, who taught them to focus on the world beyond and forget about the frauds and forgeries of this transitory world.

But even as they pretend to themselves and each other that the food and wine are having no effect on them, they are utterly and completely transformed by Babette’s culinary masterpiece.

This transformation is timely for the characters in Babette’s Feast. In recent years, since the death of their master, the villagers had fallen into petty feuds and querulous behaviour. Their regular gettogethers had been quickly dissolving into bitter carping fests.

Enter Babette’s generous offer to make a ‘Real French Dinner’, as she used to make as the celebrated chef at the Café Anglais in Paris.

And even though nobody says a word, the state of grace which engulfs the group, accentuated by gorgeous modal piano music—is something the viewer can take away with them as if they had been there in person.

There are not many films which succeed in simultaneously depicting and evoking an all encompassing mood of spiritual transcendence without a dollop of preachiness. Babette’s Feast is one.

It’s probably the next best thing to hosting your own fabulous dinner party.

Tom St. Louis, Marketing Guy, Song Writer. moistlotus@gmail.com

Photograph: Liam Sharp

special glasses v12

DEAD SEA, ROUGHLY NEAR THE WEST BANK

Put on your special glasses and view the world as an artist – every day different from the last.

2/5/08

10:56 AM

Page 28

And a

Dinner parties can be the most intimate and memorable of all social events, combining food, wine, story telling, laughter — and even sometimes high drama. Samuel Pepys, the famous diarist said: “Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting recon-

Feature Film Featuring Food

“My soul spills into yours and is blended Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance, I cherish it”.

What’s the secret power of a great dinner party? I believe it’s the loving intention in the food.

ciles everybody”.

The symposium by Plato features a legendary dinner party. Although not much is mentioned about the food served to a group of Athenian insiders celebrating the poet Agathon’s literary prize, things heat up as the guests take turns delivering spontaneous speeches on the nature of love. (Talk about putting your guests on the spot!)

The climax is when Alcibiades shows up roaring drunk and bemoans his failure to seduce Socrates—notwithstanding his many attempts—including the old ‘let’s rassle’ trick and the old ‘I’m cold, come on over and cuddle with me, Socrates’ trick.

Good food preparation is alchemy, pure and simple. Nothing less than magic, it’s the devotional art of infusing love into edible ingredients.

And as the love permeates the food and the conversation and the guests’ thoughts and feelings, they too experience a blending just as profoundly as the arugula and tomato and garlic and olive oil are blended, giving and receiving each others’ essences.

I’m sure everyone has attended a dinner party or two where a drunken husband or wife unwittingly provides the evening’s entertainment. I’ve been witness to people falling in love—between the cream of broccoli soup and the grilled salmon. And I’ve seen a table full of trial lawyers turn misty over a poignant sharing from the heart by one brave participant.

There have been a number of films in recent years attempting to depict the transforming effect food can have on a group.

‘Like Water for Chocolate’, ‘The Big Night’ and ‘Chocolat’ are a few examples that come quickly to mind. ‘Babette’s Feast’ is the granddaddy of them all. Set in a Danish fishing village in the late 1800s, it’s the story of a French chef who invests 10,000 French francs—her whole fortune—in a celebration dinner attended by a dozen religious puritans who have resolved to ignore their senses in favour of ceaseless contemplation of the divine.

It’s as though we deliver ourselves up to our hosts and each other to be heard and received and revered and loved and admired when we agree to attend such an intimate event as a dinner party.

Based on a story by Karen Blixen (aka Isak Dinesen of Out of Africa fame), the theme of Babette's feast is that great art transforms, even if the transformees are in a stubborn state of denial.

Rumi, the incomparable Sufi poet declared, probably in mid-rumination over his beloved, Shams of Tabriz:

The tantalizing punchline of the film is that even as Babette is serving up an astonishing and utterly unreplicatable feast, all the

participants but one are resolutely in denial that it’s happening. The feast is offered in honour of their spiritual leader, long dead, who taught them to focus on the world beyond and forget about the frauds and forgeries of this transitory world.

But even as they pretend to themselves and each other that the food and wine are having no effect on them, they are utterly and completely transformed by Babette’s culinary masterpiece.

This transformation is timely for the characters in Babette’s Feast. In recent years, since the death of their master, the villagers had fallen into petty feuds and querulous behaviour. Their regular gettogethers had been quickly dissolving into bitter carping fests.

Enter Babette’s generous offer to make a ‘Real French Dinner’, as she used to make as the celebrated chef at the Café Anglais in Paris.

And even though nobody says a word, the state of grace which engulfs the group, accentuated by gorgeous modal piano music—is something the viewer can take away with them as if they had been there in person.

There are not many films which succeed in simultaneously depicting and evoking an all encompassing mood of spiritual transcendence without a dollop of preachiness. Babette’s Feast is one.

It’s probably the next best thing to hosting your own fabulous dinner party.

Tom St. Louis, Marketing Guy, Song Writer. moistlotus@gmail.com

Photograph: Liam Sharp

special glasses v12

DEAD SEA, ROUGHLY NEAR THE WEST BANK

Put on your special glasses and view the world as an artist – every day different from the last.

special glasses v12

2/5/08

10:56 AM

Page 30

Market Block

30