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.
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.
I realize that food photography rarely makes the mark when lighting isn’t cooperating. But this salad is so insanely delicious I can’t wait til the sun decides to come out again to share it.
Hooray for ripe tomatoes! These orange cherry tomatoes aren’t mine - I picked them up from a Mennonite family’s organic stall at the Guelph Farmers Market this morning. The feta is also local, from Rivers Edge Goat Dairy. If you can find fresh ingredients, I guarantee this salad will tickle your tastebuds! It’s the perfect balance of sweet and savory, and in my opinion one of the best ways to enjoy ripe cherry tomatoes.
It’s also the ideal compliment to Rebar’s basil vinaigrette, which I have two cups of thanks to Heidi. Last Monday she left me with a large bag of licorice-y basil from her Ottawa garden on the strict provision that I use it to make the Rebar dressing. If you have a bottle of organic olive oil - the kind my culinarily-inclined friend Ashley has instructed me to “ONLY use for dressings and dipping because it’s so mind-blowingly tasty” - use it here! This is a dressing to splurge on. You won’t regret it and you’ll be enjoying the lovely flavour of your basil all summer long.
Recommended bouncy listening to accompany preparation: Silicone Soul, Right On, Right On (yes, just one song, it’s that snappy!)
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!
:: the calm before the Hillside storm - I so love the frequent visits and off-farm adventures, but boy do I also appreciate the rejuvenating solo time in this fresh country air
:: lots and lots of homemade iced tea sweetened with a friend’s uncapped wildflower honey
:: hot, sunny days broken by thunderstorms, long swims in gorgeous lakes, and crawling into cool sheets on crisp nights
:: gifts from the vinyl fairy: 3 old Bob Dylan’s, 1 Bob Marley, 1 missing Simon & Garfunkel and other goodies
:: the freshest smell of laundry off the line - so nice to bury your face into and inhale deeply… over and over again
:: new acacia wood patio table with umbrella and flowers blooming on the deck - hello work al fresco!
:: mmm - last of the fresh peas (shelled as we waited for Spain to finally score in the World Cup final)
:: the view from my desk - newly sanded and finished red pine plank floors in two bedrooms
:: the intense perfume of lilacs filling every room of Gothic Cottage from one tree discovered on the edge of my farm and renegade flower collection under darkness
:: the fruit of Ashley’s and my labour. A freshly painted bedroom - ‘Quiet Splendor’
:: most romantic, delicate new peachy leaves - I could live in this scene
:: a clean and fresh ‘Crisp Linnen’ sun room painted by my dad and ready for his easel (I waver between getting swept up in the romance of some paint shade names and busting a gut with friends over how seriously cheesy they are. Someone’s having fun creating them…)
:: collecting pea sticks for a thriving row of shelling peas
:: a kick in the ass - I need to stick to my guns and steer clear of non-sustainable meat, and tonight’s Ideas program on CBC radio delivered. I sat in my car after returning from yoga and kept listening in the dark with the engine off. No more prosciutto unless I know the pig was happy.
:: the field and forest slowly filling out in electric lime and emerald green (can you see the white clover growing?)
:: little Mason jars waiting to be filled with tart rhubarb jam (does anyone have a delicious recipe?)
:: design ideas germinating from conversations and cool magazines that I would never find myself but discover in the homes of my style maven friends - leaves me buzzy!
:: apples from the farmers market still going strong in the cellar
:: dirty, grass-stained knees and elbows
:: the first teeny tiny furled leaves peeking through a sea of brown in the forest
:: this escape artist in the middle of the peach fuzz field (which is soon to be scratched and sown with white clover - anyone want to keep bees at Gothic Cottage this summer?)
:: the fabulous sensation of crumbly soft earth massaging my feet as I pad through the field
:: local artist Ryan Price’s hundreds of weird and wonderful mini illustrations
:: alternating between sandals and wellies. Spring!
:: eating oven-warm tea biscuits (my grandma’s recipe) on my great grandmother’s rosebud plate, while sipping tea from my great grandmother’s teacup and chatting with my grandma - a warm matriarchal hug!
:: Phoebes’ return - I can hear their telltale song here too, Tim
:: indigo blue and three new summer shirts that explode with the deep shade, as well as periwinkle (what are these little flowers? They were so common in Victoria but I can’t find them in my seed catalogue)
:: seedling line up: potting mix, seed trays, scoop, seed packets, popsicle sticks and a Sharpie
:: new-to-me thick Persian carpet by the fire - more fitting for a cozy winter I suppose but boy do I get lost in the intricate design and rich colours
:: stretching - I mean really satisfying stretches that make you feel taller and more alive
:: Stevie Wonder’s ‘Songs In The Key of Life’ and ‘Innervisions’ - the lyrical genius’ best albums, don’t you agree? They never get old and there is never a bad time to play them
:: romance films (please pass on syrupy favourites!)
:: finding a hidden stream on a run, splashing my hot face with the icey water, and running back in the 20 degree sunshine with beads of water bouncing on my lashes like little crystal balls
:: long talks and laughs with great friends
:: robin sightings and sweet bird songs
:: exciting projects in the pipeline after productive meetings in Montreal
:: a clothesline chorus line - first of the season
:: the return of hunger and organic meatballs in spicy homemade tomato sauce
:: bright emerald green - I can’t get enough of this colour right now
:: music - so much music but right now it’s Edith Piaf’s beautiful old French tunes warbling through these walls
:: my clawfoot tub brought to life with a coat of lavender AND now complete with shower. A bit girlie, yes, but entirely appropriate don’t you think?
:: a big flower seed order. Poppies and cosmos and morning glory, oh my!
:: the hot sun casting shadows on hardwood
:: a successful skunk eviction with a five-year warranty - good riddance despicable stinkers! - and a spring airing of Gothic Cottage
:: curling into bed at night with David Sedaris’ hilarious tales, chamomile tea, and my Great Grandmother’s quilt (I had no idea they had such funky fabric in the late 30s?!)
Life without music is a life not worth living. Life without a record player is possible, but strained.
When Roddy and I moved out west we ruthlessly downsized and lived with only the necessesities. Among the “stuff” that didn’t make the shortlist was a record player. I continued to collect records, but only the bare necessities that my small collection would be incomplete without. For example, I couldn’t just walk on by Dionne Warwick when her greatest hits were going for a mere two dollars!
My little collection on the coast, however, was a source of pain without a means to relish in the sweet melodies. The stack tormented me and as the months wore on I acquired a severe case of vinyl withdrawl. This may sound melodramatic, but records have always been a massive part of my life. When I was wee, time spent indoors revolved around what music was spinning on the turntable, and my family had masses of records stored at floor level to give me easy access. While living in the UK, I gave up two nights a week for 3 months to work behind the bar of a club so I could soak up live house music and get paid for it. And I still get a kick out of listening to Roddy’s funky house mixes from his DJing days - a panacea for watching him spin in the flesh.
This weekend my two year vinyl hiatus finally came to an end. I fled my farm duties for a break at my family’s cottage just south of Algonquin Provincial Park. Before even jumping in the lake, I placed the needle gently over Elton John’s ‘Your Song’ so I could relieve 730 days of built up harmonic tension.
I am now a whole person again.
With renewed enthusiasm and uplifted spirit, Gladys Knight and The Pips accompanied Jude, my mom and I in baking a pie with scrumptious local rasperries, strawberries, and blueberries. I’m sure it was the soul diva’s sweet voice that inspired me to reach for the maple syrup instead of the sugar. So I have an old record player to thank for this locavore original.
Maple Berry Pie
Servings: 8
2 10” pie crusts
4 ¼ cups mixed seasonal berries (cut to equal sizes if necessary)
1 cup maple syrup (more for sweet tooth)
4 tbsp flour
Preheat oven to 425 F (220 C). In a large bowl, mix together berries and coat with flour. Add maple syrup and mix thoroughly. Place in one pie shell, cover with the other and pierce top pastry to release steam. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until pastry is golden on top and base is cooked.
NB: I’m not a fan of sickly sweet desserts so this pie suits my pallet to a tee - it’s a bit tart. If you prefer sweeter pies, experiment with more maple syrup or augment with another sweetener.
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.
