I’ve been adding almost daily to overflowing baskets of ruby red Juliets. Friends and family are sent home with armfuls. Neighbors who stroll past me watering my flower beds in the evening ask me about my tomatoes and I send them home with handfulls too. These red fruit have brought smiles when most needed.

This has been a particularly stressful week at Gothic Cottage. I felt like a caretaker of an infant and a toddler, without the added advantage of diapers for cats. An incontinent Yoshi has struggled through much pain and left me struggling to find enough newsprint to line the floor. He relieved himself all over Vancouver Island’s Splendid Other Coast, Tilda Swinton, and Fashion’s Fall Fling with Splatter Prints. In the midst of the incontinence chaos Chika was hit by a car and is nursing wounded legs and trauma to her bladder.

Ashley’s arrival on Friday couldn’t have been better timed. With fresh news from the vet that there was one more drug which may save Yoshi’s life and Chika loved up on kitty ecstasy, I could relax a little bit. Stacey tipped me off last week to the Rebar cookbook’s slow roast tomato recipe - perfect for roma type tomatoes and so easy. The tomatoes cooked through the washing of floors, the laundering of bedding, the cleaning of litter, a visit to the vets, and a pick up at the train station. They were in the oven a little too long at over four hours but I had faith in my Juliets.

I also had the perfect test subject in my old pal Ashley - she’s not a tomato fan and she’s an amateur cook. Ashley knows good food and I wanted to treat her to something tasty. Anyone who brings me a $35 bottle of knockout Norman Hardie pinot noir straight from Norm’s winery in Prince Edward County is going to be treated to fine food! For a starter I stacked the shriveled but brilliantly deep red roasted Juliets atop homemade garlic crostini and humous. And for the main I just tossed a good serving of the toms into a simple pasta dish with garlic braised green beans, chickpeas, olive oil, lemon juice and grated Parmesan.

And the verdict? Ashley couldn’t believe that there was no sugar or honey added to the tomatoes. She couldn’t believe that they came from my garden. She couldn’t stop saying how delicious they were. And we hadn’t even started the main course yet.

We ate Juliet garlic crostini again last night and now back in Toronto, Ashley has a travel-friendly portion of my Juliets roasting in her oven as I write. I think I found a winner. These little flavour bombs are the best way I’ve found to put Juliets to bed, and all the better if you’re inundated with distractions and in need of a gourmet hit at home.

And a jaunty Vampire Weekend tune to lift spirits while those Juliets sing.

Rebar’s Slow Roast Tomatoes

Yields 1 cup

10 tomatoes, halved (I used enough halved Juliets to fill two baking sheets and found the following portions sufficient for this quantity of tomatoes)

¼ cup (60 mL) extra virgin olive oil

1 tsp (5 mL) salt

¼ tsp (1.2 mL) cracked pepper

2 tbsp (30 mL) minced thyme or rosemary

1. Pre-heat oven to 250 F. Slice tomatoes in half and arrange, cut side up, on a parchment-lined baking tray. Brush lightly with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, pepper and chopped fresh herbs.

2. Roast tomatoes for up to 4 hours, or until they are visibly dehydrated yet still meaty. Cool and refrigerate for up to one week.

Rebar’s Garlic Crostini

1 baguette, plain, wholegrain or sourdough

¼ cup (60 mL) extra virgin olive oil

2 garlic cloves

Pre-heat oven to 350 F. Slice baguette ½” thick on the bias. Arrange on a baking tray and brush with oil. Bake until golden (5-10 minutes). Cut garlic cloves in half and rub the cut side of the clove on the toasted bread.

When I crawled into bed last night and shut my eyes, exhausted and buzzing from two and a half full days, phantom base lines were still beating in my ears. So many highlights and I don’t have the stamina for complete sentences…

Best music:

:: Grand Analog

:: Horse Feathers

:: Shad

:: Royal Wood

:: Brasstronaut

:: Alex Cuba

:: Sunday morning Gospel Hour with Sarah Harmer, Frazey Ford, Horse Feathers, Basia Bulat, The Good Lovelies & Sam Doores

(so wish I hadn’t missed Matt Andersen, Beardyman and Shane Koyzcan but my oh my revelers are spoiled for choice with four stages and 67 bands)

Best of the rest:

:: Friday sunset and good laughs with old and new friends

:: farm sleepovers and breakfasts with most amazing Marianne, Tim, Heidi, Emily and Bo

:: Saturday rain and mud - ankle-deep and so many pairs of gorgeous mucky barefeet!

:: sparky mid-afternoon sunshine buzz courtesy of my local - Wellington Brewery

:: Main Stage living roof, solar-powered Sun Stage, water tanker of Guelph tap water, reusable dishes and wash stations

:: Mapleton Organics ice cream - oh the power of suggestion at work with sun-kissed beauties licking dripping waffle cones

:: baby Wyatt - just the most playful eight-month old and helping round out the next generation of Hillside lifers

:: solid Sunday sunshine mingled with Guelph Lake breezes

:: intimate and interactive jam sessions and musicians chilling out in the grass next to revelers (Hello Sarah Harmer! Would you like to share my ice cream cone?)

:: Bollywood dance lesson (please, please bring classes to Guelph!)

Until next year, Hillside, I’m so grateful you’re in my backyard!

Not this afternoon, unfortunately, but on a Friday afternoon in early October Tori, Nancy, Nancy’s Aunt Susan and I tasted Niagara’s finest. It’s Fridays like these I cherish my 4-day work week.

There is only one certified organic winery in Southern Ontario’s Niagara region - frogpondfarm - but we didn’t make it this time. Instead, we followed our noses to the expansive vineyards of Jackson-Triggs and Inniskillin.

First stop, Jackson-Triggs. My impression of the winery? Bold, with hints of snobbery, forward notes of perfectionism, and a clean finish. Their wine? Not as nice as the architecture and staff. Of the seven we tasted, only two were winners. One, however, was outstanding buttery perfection. So unbelievably delicious, in fact, that none of us blinked an eye at dropping $20 each for a bottle. They had one case left of their 2008 Chardonnay… maybe if you run now they’ll still have a bottle. It’s the best white wine I’ve ever tasted and I wish I’d bought three.

Jackson-Triggs are savvy winemakers. They have one of the most technologically advanced wine making facilities in Canada, and I must admit I was captivated by all the shiny silver.

Remember the scene in Strange Brew where Bob McKenzie gets trapped in a huge brewery tank at Elsinore Brewery?  That would never happen here. Jackson-Triggs is squeaky clean to the point that you check the soles your shoes before entering the impressive new building.

From processing to cellaring, it was quite a tour. A fine start to our afternoon!

Inniskillin felt more traditional, but we weren’t there to admire cellars and grapes. Toured out, we headed straight to the bar for our free tasting (free coupons from J-T, nice!).

I wasn’t overly impressed with Inniskillin’s merlot, shiraz, or pinot gris. They were watery or acidic, and quite forgettable. But I did learn two new things about myself at the winery:

1. I do like icewine after all

2. I have very expensive taste

The vintage I fell for goes for a cool $300 a bottle! I can still taste the rich apricot notes… If we can produce a couple of wines from our land which are half as divine I’ll be a very happy vintner!

Anyone ever tried growing their own grapes? We’d love to cultivate a few vines - just enough to produce wine for ourselves - but I haven’t done any research on the art yet.

It was a weekend of wicked thunderstorms, bouncy music, wellies, and local fare. Hillside Festival on Guelph Lake Island couldn’t be a better introduction to our community. It takes place just 5 minutes from our farm, usually sells out soon after tickets go on sale, and draws revelers from all over Southern Ontario - many of whom camp out for the three days.

Roddy and I hadn’t treated ourselves to a festival since 2002(!) and it was fantastic to soak up the vibe, take in some excellent Canadian indie bands (Hey Rosetta and Grupo Fantasma stole the show), and be surrounded by smiley happy people lapping it all up.

There was something uniquely special about Hillside, and it’s tagline says it all: “celebrating music and community.”

More than music alone, the festival hosts workshops that cover everything under the sun: urban homesteading, the joy of poi, fermenting, faeries 101, perception through creativity, tatooing and piercing, solar hot water, getting the sex you want, and embodied dreaming, to name a few. Artizan tents dot the paths from one music tent to another, with the food bazaar anchoring the festival serving up tantalizing dishes from local vendors. A locavore’s dream, the festival also only sells local ice cream - Mapleton’s Organic - and local beer - Wellington, Stone Hammer and Mill St Organic.

An aprentice from Everdale Organic Farm & Learning Centre flanked one of the neighborhood tents. The centre is 15 minutes away from our farm and has an enticing repertoire of workshops, including straw bale building. Their snow peas are delicious, and I love their rustic farm stamp and slogan… similar to what I have in mind for our own produce when we get there.

Hillside is also a kid magnet, which sets it apart from the UK electronic music festivals I’ve been to. Happy-go-lucky kidlets seem to outnumber adults (their parents obviously attended ‘Getting the sex you want’ in past years). Youngins certainly add dimension to the woodland meets lake setting.

We bumped into a few friends who pounce on weekend-long tickets the day they go on sale every year. Now I understand what all the fuss is about. One day is not enough.

I love it when we have visitors! Niall has been visiting from Scotland for the past 3 weeks and he brings our place to life with colorful, detailed stories. His mind holds the Scottish archives and still has room to remember little, seemingly insignificant details. Like the fact that I’m allergic to red wine. And the fact that Roddy and I have developed a obsession over Grey Monk white wines.

Niall’s journey through the Okanagan in a rental car included hunting down our favourite winery, touring it’s vineyard, sampling the goods and returning to Victoria with three bottles – you beauty! We made light work of the Riesling last night, whilst cracking up over one of our household’s most prized album covers, Slim Whitman’s ‘Songs I Like To Sing’.

The houses Mackenzie and Foster are one again! The cats are more settled with Roddy back in their lives. They must like the mingling of old familiar smells – Roddy’s things, my things, OUR things, all under one roof… I know I do!

Tim was our first guest last weekend and we treated him to Roddy’s specialty: roasted veg in his “George’s Marvelous Medicine” marinade and hasselback roasted potatoes (think armadillo potatoes) with goats cheese, garlic and overgrown rosemary from our backyard. The local star of our meal was Tim’s contribution – Phillips Blue Buck beer from Victoria, which was delivered to us with a good story.

Apparently the beer was initially named Blue Truck to pay homage to Matt Phillips’ 1965 milk truck-looking delivery van from the brewery’s early days. Well, there happens to be another beer company called Red Truck, whose management threatened to sue Phillips if they didn’t change the new beer’s name. Phillips conceded, but not without coming out on top. The hype had gained such publicity that the renamed Blue Buck suddenly had a thriving following!

The Blue Truck tale, as told on Phillips website, lives on:
“After a dedicated few years of hard service, the Blue Truck – that juggernaut of joy bringing beer to people – was retired. Following countless trips over and around Vancouver Island and the mainland it was turned off for the last time in front of the brewery, where it still sits today as a bittersweet reminder of all the hard work needed to keep Phillips alive.”

My cousin Tim, whom I looked up to like an older brother when I was wee, led me blindly through many food firsts. My earliest memory, in fact, is a not so fond one of Tim coaxing me to snort pepper while we were watching Dr. Snuggles. Our familial bond is one of extremes of flavour: from sucking on lemon wedges to dawn dimpled yellow smiles, to daring each other to drop chili flakes at Pizza Hut.

Somewhere along the way I picked up a sweeter habit from Tim that I haven’t been able to shake – drinking maple syrup straight from a spoon. Call me a die hard Canuck but I’m a sucker when it comes to anything with sweet, sugary maple syrup, and Granville Island Maple Cream Ale is no exception. Maple and beer is a fine marriage – far tastier than substandard honey lagers.

My love of this beer is actually a match made in heaven – it’s full name is ‘Kitsilano Maple Cream Ale’, none other than my new hood. AND, the hops used for this mouth watering brew are traditional Tettnang hops, a German town I spent three glorious months in during my awkward teens.

I remember drinking beer and coca cola out of a mug big enough to be a pitcher on my first night in Tettnang. Festival was in full swing and the reveling is more striking to me than the hops, but my connection to my new Kits drink is only strengthened by it’s ties to another lovely town I’ve called home.

The label, like all of the microbrewery’s Vancouver neighborhood varieties, dawns a painting of Kits beach, the very place I plan to knock back this beer once the sand is warm between my toes.