Vegan Paella and Smoked Paprika Potatoes

Smoked Paprika Potatoes
Serves 8 (just barely)

1lbs or more, small roasting potatoes washed and peeled if you like
Smoked Paprika
Salt&pep
Oil

Parboil your potatoes then remove them from water, and transfer to a baking dish. Smother in smoked paprika and oil and add to preheated (375) oven, bake for 40 mins.

Vegan Paella
Serves 8 people

2 cups brown rice
1 cup green lentils (optional)
2 peppers, bright colours, diced
2 tomatoes, diced
1 cup tomato juice
1 onion, diced
1-2 artichokes, tough skins removed and prickly tips cut off
garlic, lots of diced or grated in
1 bushel of asparagus (optional), diced
Saffron
Smoked Paprika
Seasoning, salt&pepper, whatever

Cook rice and lentils, with the artichoke on top then preheat oven to 375. Once prepared, add to a giant serving dish. Then put all the other veggies on top of the rice mixture (you can pre fry them it you want), pour over tomato juice, and some seasoning (reserving saffron for the end) and throw it in the oven for about 40 mins.

I have no yet perfected this recipe, its a bit “starchy”/rice holds no serious form afterwards. But it delicious and there wasn’t a grain of rice left after the dinner we did last night! I couldn’t get a photo of it, sometimes it feels so awkward to set up a “food shoot” with people around, plus my camera sucks when the lighting it bad!

Either way, DELICIOUS spanish inspired meal! Enjoy it sometime with friends!

gingerbread lattes, and a cheers to immortality.

I love going out for coffee. I find it incredibly satisfying to sit somewhere public and cozy, with a book or my laptop (but I do this less often as I see it as a time to rest my arm, I can use internet all day at home!) and do whatever I please, for as long as I please. When Jesse and I go together, he usually quickly sips his drink and munches down his snack and is ready to go. I, on the other hand, have usually hardly touched my coffee yet because I’m planning for the long haul and don’t want to spend money on a second, lol.

I love doing this almost as a hobby. Finding a cafe that serves great cafe au lait is one thing, but finding a cafe that does it fair trade organic with raw sugar is another, entirely more delicious thing! When my favorite spots (I’m referring mostly to Cafe Rico on Rachel) are out of the question (due to hours, weather, and general laziness), I’m not against ripping a 24h Second Cup cafe filtre or an americano with hazelnut syrup and steamed milk from the Buck. This love for cafe loitering comes with one downfall though, it’s expensive and the opposite of economical.

For someone who has no income presently, it’s quite the pricey habit. I saw a blog recently that boasted a photo of pumpkin spice lattes made at home and my mouth started to salivate. “I’m fucking broke”, I thought to myself adding a “but I could totally for to the Buck for one of those bad boys right now…” And then I realized the error of my ways, commercial coffee shops of all scales tend to use syrups instead of real pumpkin puree, and I’m not a big fan of consuming fake sugar based products. Nor am I blind to the fact that it would have cost me minimum 5$, credit, and I wouldn’t have been very satisfied with my low quality product.

Later that day I went on a magical adventure with Jesse and ended up purchasing a bottle of Harmony Organic Milk from Ontario, a can of pumpkin puree, and 5$ worth of espresso beans from Cafe Rico. We had a fantastic breakfast of pumpkin pancakes with organic ginger syrup, served with steaming mugs of pumpkin spice latte. Today I was inspired by our newest condiment, the sensational ginger syrup, we purchased from Ecologey (or something like that, it’s a new place very visible from the west side of Avenue du Parc La Fontaine) on Rue La Fontaine. It was under 4$, and as soon as I saw it I knew I had to have it. It’s strong and sweet, and was amazing smothered of pancakes and peanut butter.

This rainy Thursday was like any other day, I wanted to go out for a coffee, but the supersaver within couldn’t justify the cost. I have plenty of wonderful ingredients at home, that could make a perfect gingerbread latte. The only thing I was missing was vanilla extract, which I ended up visiting three stores until I found something affordable, and real. Pure extract is expensive, for little quantities, and I wouldn’t waste my money on a generic brand if I’m going to be paying nearly 10$ anyways. I’d rather opt for organic, and always a sucker for a deal, I had seen it cheaper and bigger at that new bio Epicerie, so I’m going to go back there sometime, haha. I ended up buying vanilla beans (for my first time), because it was 5.50$ and real. For imitation vanilla it’s about 2.99$ a bottle and only 10% vanilla, there is no bang for my buck in an equation like that.

It ended up being fantastic, but not very visually appealing (as in no frothed milk, just coffee with milk looking). So I need a milk frother, a.s.a.p., and possibly a larger espresso percolator. Ours is a good size, but we weren’t finding our lattes strong enough and ending up making two pots today. Which means, ‘_’, yeah I’m pretty woo-wooed on espresso right now, lol!

Gingerbread Lattes
makes three outta control lattes

1 or 2 small pots espresso (about 12 shots, uh yeah, lol)
2 cups almond milk
1 vanilla bean
3 slices fresh ginger
1 or 2 ounces ginger syrup
1/3 cup or less sugar (I used very little but the recipe I used for inspiration asked for 1/3)
1 ounce molasses
typical corresponding amounts of cinnamon, clove, nut meg

Heat milk with everything, bring to a boil, and stir vigorously. Try to froth if you can, I would have loved it frothed it! Then pour your espresso into large mugs and top with the steamed gingerbread milk mixture!

Yum!Yum!AMAZING!Yum!Yum!

P.S Honestly I need to stop being a french typing pussy, and start using my accents.

chicken noodle soup

2 packets of en grain chicken bones from Champs De Flueri (un boucherie sur Mont Royal Est)
Basil
Herbaceous spices
4 small multi coloured carrots, sliced
1 large onion, diced
2 handfuls spinach, sliced
2 handfuls whole wheat penne.

Add chicken bones to a big pot, fill to cover with water and bring to a boil. Add in basil, s&p, herbs. Boil for at least an hour, skimming gross stuff off the top. When done, strain into a bowl, and set bones aside (leave in the strainer).

In the same pot, boil a little water and parboil your noodles, when done strain them and set aside.

In the same pot again, now sautee your veggies with some butter, then add your noodles and broth on top. Bring to a bowl, and add the chicken bits from the bones.

Easy, delicious, soul food.

when home doesn’t feel very close.

I am home, yes it’s been 6 days and counting. I am here for another 6 days, and then I take my flight home in time to try and recollect myself before my thanksgiving visitors come. Which I am very much looking forward too, but am presently thinking I’ll be an anxious anti-social mess, and I really hope it isn’t the case. I usually love coming home. I love seeing my family and friends, and frequenting the old spots like Old Rock and the Townehouse, but this time I don’t feel very comfortable. Has it really been that long or is it just the family stress that’s creating a jaded perspective of my hometown for me?

I feel quiet, something I feel a lot lately in Montreal. Unsure of what to say to people, and almost certain I’ll run out of things to say before I finish my sentence. I don’t feel myself, I feel lost. I have come less for a casual visit, and more to help out my mom. She changed her medication this summer and made some pretty huge descesion without the consent of her parter. Then she went into stress overload and is now trying to crawl out of her depression, and it’s hard. I know it’s hard to rebuild things, and I feel bad it took me so long to get here, but I’m here now. I feel like if I’d come sooner I may have been able to stop her from buying that house and creating all these complications in her life.

The stress is starting to drive me nuts. Her and George fighting about this and that, neither of them making much sense and both parties hurt. I’ve been tired since I got here, and anxious, so anxious. I feel awakward when people ask me hows my trip been, boarding on my desire for ultra honesty and my common sense not to over-share family issues with people who don’t deserve the knowledge for potential judgement or gossip. I am senstive and lonely, and feel bogged down. Still so many people to see and so much to do to help my mom, and I have no idea how to pull it all together or where to draw the energy from. I wish I was here for pleasure instead of rescue, but I know I am making the difference between my mom ending up in the hospital and getting back on her feet.

I just want to relax. I want to enjoy the crisp air of fall and take in the leaves as they change. So many firery red trees, burning up front yards as I walk past them, and it seems to be my only alone time with nature. Walking the dog inbetween phone calls with my mom. I wish I had a car so I could drive to the island, but I really doubt I’ll get the opportunity. Better yet I wish my mom was up to driving, so we could embark on a day trip together. I wish George was going out of town this week (like I had thought), so my mom and I could get things done and I could keep helping her to relax and meditate on healing. He can be so fucking negative that I feel like telling her to leave him. His insta-rage attitude makes me want to run, so I can only imagine how locked up my mom must feel at times, although I know she’s been erupting into the same type strong feelings at a pin drop herself.

I hope Sudbury doesn’t always feel this way to me from now on. I don’t want to feel like a stranger to my town and with my family. I didn’t even recognize my dad when I saw him the other day and it made me feel totally weird. Granted his hair is shorter than I’d ever seen it, and he had a hat on. I feel so powerless. I want to run, I am feeling totally trapped. I wish I had the freedom to get around in this city, I need a bicycle. Not being able to walk where I want, or having a cell phone to contact people is making me feel isolated and unloved. Unloved because I’m feeling sensitve, and left aside if people aren’t calling me. I still have like 8 people I need to see, and several dinners to have; coffees to grab. I don’t think I’m up to fitting everyone in, I just can’t spread myself that thin. I am investing 80% of my time to my mom and that is because she’s the most important.

I am willing to talk on the phone a 100 times a day, to cuddle with her, to rub her hair, and to tell her how amazing she is and that everything will be okay. I am willing to do this every day and want to be doing it because I love her and want her to believe in herself again. Trust in her power, and control her mind. I just hope this all helps us avoid my mom going to the hospital. I hope I didn’t take to long to get here to be her best friend and give her an outlet and a lift in spirit.

Someone posted this on their facebook and it somewhat made me feel of how I feel right now.

God I fucking love Death Cab.

Christale

Presently I am skipping class and listening to a Def Jam playlist on youtube of spoken word. Originally I had a good reason to be absent today, in this which is to be my last week of school. Reason being, I had received a ticket for Aboriginal Awareness Week to attend a First Nations garden tour at the Botanical Gardens. By time I’d decided to cut class, the person who had motivated me to go couldn’t make it, and I was already late. I always feel super uncomfortable showing up for class late, and the teacher already gave me a warning last week. I don’t really care because I should receive my final check next week, and their (EQ) lack of competence may result in me missing my last two checks.

My paranoia mostly lays in the fear that I won’t receive my check for next week, and due to my absences I may not be able to contest it if they don’t send it. However I feel somewhat confident that they won’t even notice, and if they had given me the proper end date when I asked I wouldn’t have booked my flight home during school. Which says nothing for today, but is why my mind is already living in next week and why I don’t care at all anymore. I’d like to have gone to second period, but I got stoned and felt really unmotivated and so comfortable sitting here working on a poem and watching spoken word. My desire to avoid hearing the teacher reprimand me, is preventing me from venturing to school like a responsible student.

I have excuses to fuel my motives as well, like my arm is bothering me and a writing class isn’t the best for me today. Excuses like, it would be so healing and refreshing to just lay awhile on my yoga mat, in the daylight and coolness of this rainy pre-autumn day. This apartment still feels strangely unlike home to me, inducing a feeling of anxiety and unease that I’ve been feeling for a few days. Spending more time centering while I’m alone here, could also be more positive for me than french class for 8 hours today.

This place feels more like home than a few weeks ago; we set up the living room, hung pictures and art on the walls, but we haven’t been using the space. We’ve been sitting on the couch which is in the kitchen by the way, and it’s the kind of couch that eats you alive while inviting you to watch an entire season of Archer in 2 days. We’ve decided that we’d like a more lounge style vintage couch. The kind that invites you to take a seat, but doesn’t entice you to stay for dinner, and an after dinner drink, and then maybe a shag. It would tie our rooms together, bring more flow into this space that, despite being a 5 and 1/2, feels rather small. Maybe that’s because it felt like a prison for so many weeks, and now it’s hard to trust it won’t spring up any unwanted inmates.

I’ve been connecting more to poetry community in Montreal recently. I read at the Poetry in the Park a few weeks ago and attended a First Nations reading at the Yellow Door on Monday. A new friend of mine here is a writer, and the fact alone that she defines herself as a writer is inspiring to me because it seemed to me that it’s a career so far fetched. My family is fantastic, but they are always hoping to aim me in the direction of a steady, cash producing job, instead of anything that draws upon fire. I don’t blame them, it’s logical to follow income over excitement, but moving from the North to one of the leading cities of the world has really opened my eyes. I’m still a lame, self conscious, inhibited person, who judges and experiences high school like emotions of jealousy and the like, but I am changing.

I have met so many wonderful, open, creative people since moving here. People and friends who have helped me grow past a lot my own restrictions, and they don’t even know it. The fostering of calm freedom, that has allowed me to sing and share which I don’t normally do with friends. As out spoken as I am, part of me seems to always lay in hiding. It’s still hard not to feel inferior, when I have no idea what musician everyone is talking about or which director did whatever movie. And I’ve made the mistake of showing my teeth sometimes to quickly, with people who have no negative history with me, but all of this is learning and journey. All of this is making me wake up from a self induced state of sleeping, to the potential of creative confidence. I’ve been waking up from the idea that, it is not worth the worth of a poem– of free words spoken, to risk financial instability. Luckily, my income is already as low as it can be without being completely 0, which it will in fact be reaching soon. I’m existing despite my steady income, living out my days not just checking them off and that’s because it’s worth it, just to exist in the emotional stillness that grows from creation and self expression without fear of judgement.

Erykah Badu. I don’t listen to a lot of her music, but I love the rhythm of her words. We have one of her albums on the computer but I usually only listen to the song Green Eyes.

Lauryn Hill. Ouu girl, this is one strong woman and her words sink into me. I love to write about society and the government and can’t help but want to snap my fingers when I hear people spit amazing rhymes.

Rives. I’d never heard of this guy, but spoken word is so diverse, and I found his piece really powerful because it’s about deaf poets.