I’ve just come off a weekend-long workshop which was inspiring and paradigm-shifting. It’s given me fantastic tools, resources, and vision. I gave the group and our facilitators my complete attention, shared my experience, and left on a high: full of hugs, new ideas, and a broadening sense of community.

Then I walked home alone through the fog and balmy 11 degrees. When I set off I was under the impression it was a quick 45 minutes home, but my trek through new territory resulted in painful blisters in my (fabulous) new Blundstone “farmer boots”, sweating in just a sweater and thin shirt, and walking in the door an hour and a half later. I was briefly uplifted when I found a box full of Mason jars at the end of someone’s drive, but now that I’m home, showered and fed I feel like it’s taking all the brainpower I have just to compress the keys on my keyboard.

I’m saturated. Spent. I’ll have to tell you about the wonderful insights of the Transition Town Training another time. Even the naughty, “tsk tsk” Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut isn’t sustaining me to write a meaty entry about my insightful weekend. So why, you might ask, is the locavore advocate tucking into a bar of sin – a non-fair trade, non-local chocolate bar which supports an unsustainable food system?!

Well, for a few reasons. First, it’s all I wanted after a very long weekend of work. Furthermore, I don’t pretend to be the poster girl for eating local. I love local food and I’m slowly becoming more aware of seasonal fare, but I don’t make it a religion. I fall from grace every so often and give into temptations out with my larder. Tonight, it was the sickly sweet Fruit and Nut, a throwback from my footloose Scotland days… from a time when my cupboards were stocked with tinned tuna and Heinz baked beans, and nothing was complete without Dijon mustard.

It wasn’t always Cadbury’s that found it’s way to my lips. When I was grasping for mental acuity while hammering out my master’s thesis I gravitated toward a substances which would take me to higher planes, and replaced cheap milk chocolate with ever darker varieties. But chocolate, nonetheless, is one vice that I cannot give up completely. While alternatives like honey and maple syrup will often suffice, when serious cravings hit I’ll reach for chocolate and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

The edible apples from our back garden are past their prime now – destined for fun projects like shrunken heads. But our crisper still isn’t clear of the fruit. A colleague of Roddy’s gifted us with at least 20 of these beautiful large babies, and, my sweet tooth beckoning for attention, I embarked on my first crumble.

This is actually not the first time I’ve ever made this dessert. I was an assistant to Roddy’s mum Shona in a berry variety a couple of summers ago up at my family cottage in northern Ontario. I seem to recall having difficulty with the crumble part. Shona and Alistair will likely have a more vivid memory of my “difficulty,” but I can say that my fingers were a bit too keen and strong and the crumble was, well, pulverized to a fine power.

Unfortunately, Roddy’s intervention in this crumble was also too late, and in an ugly twist of fortune I ended up with a new manhandled dessert mishap: Apple Powder a la MANdrea.

Next time, I shall try to remember to leave the muscles at the door and enter my kitchen with grace, poise and pearls around my neck. And if I forget, hopefully the vintage Sixties pyrex dish will trigger my memory.

Proof that it’s never too late to carve your first pumpkin. As Roddy carved this bad boy with ease, I realized why I’m such a poor pumpkin visionary. WARNING: what you are about to read contains scenes of a shocking nature.

There was something about the way Roddy was slumped over our pumpkin. Maybe it was his smudged glasses or his mussed up hair. Perhaps it was his five o’clock shadow. Whatever it was, I was suddenly removed from this scene in my kitchen and back on the linoleum floor of 330 Codrington, watching my dad steady a pumpkin with his giant hands. My dad the artist. My dad the overachiever. My dad the only child.

My father dominated this holiday tradition. I remember getting up to my elbows in the vividly-coloured stringy innards, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t just step aside and pass up the honour of carving the beast to my dad. There would have been some whining at least (although I’ve conveniently omitted this unattractive detail from my memory). In the end, however, this was one fight my dad never lost. At six foot three with an arm-span that domineered the carving area, when he set his mind on a design there wasn’t room for a child to get a measly marker near the orange shell.

I don’t resent my dad’s competitiveness leeching it’s way into a fun childhood tradition. The poor guy worked hard enough to deserve a little fun once a year. Plus, when the lights were out and Roddy’s creation was aglow, it dawned on me that there are lots of pumpkins to go around. My future is full of endless creative possibilities. And if my end products wind up chopped and roasted for dinner, at least I’ll have Roddy’s to entertain me.

‘Tis the season when apples are in absolute abundance. Right now, apples are dominating our crisper, our counter top, and the grassy damp carpet of our backyard. To eat, or not to eat? That is the question!

There are the common standby’s: crumbles, cobblers, pies and sauces. Or for the more committed, alternatives exist in the form of dried rings, chutneys and butters. These days, I haven’t got 26 hours to devote to a homemade apple butter – check out this crowd-pleaser if you do. I can, however, clear my calendar for some good fun. And this photo in a book of gags caught my eye:

With patience, this simple project reveals the fruits of a little labor in one week. Don’t wait to take a paring knife to your overflowing supply of apples. Above are creations by myself, Asha and Roddy (photos courtesy of Roddy).

Shrunken Heads:

- fun-loving apples destined for a non-culinary project
- creative carver(s)
- pairing knife
- 1/3 cup of cider vinegar

1. peel apples
2. carve facial features – the sloppier the better
3. douse apple in bowl of cider vinegar
4. tie 4 inches of string to apple stem (if stem is missing, as in our case, proceed to Plan B – zombie apples – and affix string to nails bored into the sides of the apple’s ‘head’)
5. hang apple from oven rack in oven set to absolute lowest setting for 1 hour
6. remove apple from oven and hang indoors for one week
7. enjoy your home-made demonic shrunken head!