The Modern Grocery Store

As I entered the grocery store for a few 'shortcuts', I realized how modern today's grocery store emporium had become. I was staring at a mountain of food from 'the make your own' to the 'ready-to-eat' fare. I was in meal time fantasy land.

Decades ago, I began to wonder if the time would ever arrive when the oven could become an obsolete appliance in homes of the future. Has that time arrived? The cornucopia of energy efficient table top appliances were beginning their debut on our kitchens counters, back then, saving time and energy costs while displacing the more majestic ovens, manufactured for all those 'catered' affairs. (Baked cheesecakes mattered, too). Two of them have invaded my heart and home: the pressure cooker and the Phillips Air Fryer, to my delight!

We were headed in a direction unheard of, in my youth, when dining out was a special treat, not the often, everyday, ordinary event it seems to be today. I shopped in grocery stores, with my mom, to buy simple ingredients: meat, vegetables, ground coffee beans, milk and eggs. Our bread and sweet buns were bought, day old, at the bakery where she worked. (We never noticed).

The deli department of today's grocery stores is more than just sliced deli meats and ready made salads, anymore. It's a transformative place like no other. We now have casseroles galore, dinner entrees for four, sandwiches and wraps, on-the-go, on every type of bread, housing the contents of meats, exotic spreads and greens. (Hold the mayo, please. Too much there. But is it mayo, anyway?). 

 

The deli counter is a catered system I have participated in with delight on a few occasions when I could not possibly cook that day. I was giving myself a much deserved day off. (Sometimes, there were  leftovers only for one. It was his right). But I was being pampered, too. And I liked it. No one knew what was happening, except me. It was my secret.

With such a vast variety of meal choices for our dining engorgement, (did I say that?) the origins of our food can also, sadly, be suspect. I am eternally happy that turkey is now available, year round. Small birds or large ones, they arrive fresh or frozen. I segment the fresh ones, then freeze. Full course turkey dinners are a short walk to my stand-up freezer. As long as labelling is front and center, we are able to make informed decisions when we buy food already prepared for us. No complaints there. In some 'horrid circumstances', however, we still have the deleterious corn syrup solids, glucose-fructose, found inside many of the foods we love to eat. Sugars should be not be in there but there it sits proudly in the ingredient list. These sweeteners should be restricted to desserts and in minute amounts. At least we know where they are and can avoid them. But often, these insipid carbs lurk under suspicious names in the prepared meals and sides we buy as they ambush us, unknowingly, triggering uncontrollable hunger cravings while taking us on a journey to ill health. (Obesity and diabetic epidemics didn't just happen overnight).

In my childhood/teen years, the t.v dinner, on aluminum trays, began a trend towards 'take-out'. But we always returned to cooking the old fashioned way. The grocery store was a simple place, then, within a half hour's walk. Grinding the family's coffee beans was a delightful moment for me, a duty I performed with glee, whenever shopping with my mom. I never developed a taste for the famous brew but appreciated its energizing aroma as I ground it in the store- twice.

We have mixed greens, arugula, kale, watercress, organic or not, on display in the produce aisle of today's technicolour circus, our modern grocery store. They can be added, in a quick fix, to augment the nutritional value of our instant meals. (A wrong must always be made right). It is comforting to know there are mini-sized versions of those 'horrible things' called cakes whenever a flirtatious mood for a slice of dessert hits. The slices are much smaller and thinner with fewer calories. In a pinch, berries can be tossed on top for that healthier approach.

We have access to foods from all over the world with an ever reaching hold on our appetites while the deli counter beckons us, nearby. Dinner will take too long and we are tired, understandably. Short cuts to dinner allow us to 'dine out' more cheaply, too, using today's modern grocery store, for those decadent 'time-outs'. My favourite meal is meat loaf, that often much-loathed dinner entree. I saw it one day in our local grocery store. 'We' were destined to meet, I thought. Mashed potatoes enticing me, nearby, did not disappoint. My husband preferred my version. But today it is my shortcut destination that will rule. (Message received). Dinner time will return to 'normal' tomorrow but in the meantime, I deserve a break today, maybe tomorrow, too. Perhaps, the rest of the week. Not sure. (Remember, I, too, am very busy).

Today's modern grocery stores is a cornucopia of delight and anticipation for me. But please do not misread my momentary excitement for naivety. Get rid of those additives, colour and taste enhancers and the ever present glucose-fructose in some of those 'ready made' meals you sell. These add-ins are not food. And you know it! You put them there, without our knowledge and permission. We have been duped by trust. Any thing new in the ever-expanding deli dept. always gets our attention, justifiably so. But soon the 'honeymoon' period will end. Be careful, Mr. Grocer, my stove is waiting. It will not take much for me to come to my 'senses', if the need arises!

We Met in -25 ºC.

Brrrr! It is -20 today, a frigidly cold morning for our sweet Mr. Wiggles, as he attempts to do his business, on three legs. The fourth one is being held in abeyance, too cold to touch the noisy, crispy white stuff called snow. He runs and runs, trying so hard to get away from that hurting freezing cold ground. Even playing hockey with that large egg-shaped plastic 'puck' is losing its lustre. Today, hockey is no sport. It is pain, with outside temperatures that cold.

I was reminded of 'that' horrible day, nearly 15 years ago, when Tiggy, our kitty cat, then a tiny kitten, was left to die, by the side of the road, on that March 3^rd, in -25º weather. Her life and death struggle gave me a new take on life: never give up and some of us are truly evil! Today's sub zero temperatures attests to her strength of that by-gone era. Back then, she was dying. At that moment, I was falling in love with her. A trip to the clinic to save her came in a most timely fashion. She'd had less than 25 minutes to live. Today she is in her 15^th year and loving her life as I do.

She was a newborn, with no fat and newly made muscle to help keep her warm but easy prey for the coyotes that roamed our rustic neighbourhood, in the country. She was painfully and slowly freezing to death. I had made a wrong turn, that fateful day, and the rest is a rich history of meows, hisses, bites and talking to me in her special way. We were meant to be.

Tiggy is adorable. She put our family through many challenges over the years. We persevered. Early on, she would escape. It was just her nature. When I spotted her near the trees, I warned her of the grave mistake she was making, even on warm summer days. It was Mother Nature's world, I cautioned her. Do not take her for granted, I would say. You have a great life with us and would never survive 'out there'. She knew. She would wait to be picked up, then moved to 'higher ground' where her siblings, the retrievers lived. Each kept to their own quarters, as animals generally do. Whenever they met inside, she would fuss while the male puppy ran towards his newly adopted sister hoping she would play with him.. He just wanted to have fun. She would watch then leave, always reminded that she did not need to be downstairs though she liked to walk on the wild side, occasionally.

She is an adult, now, following responsible dietary protocols, eating tiny amounts of coconut oil, mixed with a few drops of boiled water, then added to her prescription thyroid diet. (She has hyperthyroidism). This healthy fat has given her a rosy glow with a firmer profile. There is an inner strength that seemed to be lacking. (She eats her greek yogurt, too, from time to time). All is well in her kitty world. Her lab results are fine and within range, considering how deathly ill she was a few years ago. Then, she detested her special food. She wanted protein rich foods, high in iodine. But those choices were slowly killing her as she 'wasted' away, an ounce a day. Rational thinking had no part in her decisions. But soon, her body began to protest. She listened. I cleaned up her messes. Dry brushing is now her special spa moment, a daily requirement for health.

As another winter season descends upon us, I am reminded of all Tiggy has endured. Her thoughts and actions influence my decisions in all things medical and nutritional. She is an animal with wisdom. Her water is changed several times a day. (Cats hate their own saliva). Her stainless steel flat 'dry food' bowl is cleaned meticulously before use, all dry morsels, in a single layer when added. Sometimes, her clinical results have told one story while her daily life experience, another. What matters most is her daily truth, not a random one. Laboratory tests are but a moment in time, we are  reminded by our friend, a forensic pathologist.

When that frigidly cold day arrived, 14 years ago, I was ready for a truth like no other. My life's trajectory was altered that day. There was so much more to learn as Tiggy would soon show. She became my new teacher. I was fortunate that we met. We became the perfect match and the most poignant of all love stories.

So Many, 'Lost in Translation'

The meal is brought to the table. We regale in its sensory feast. Twenty minutes later, the food has been devoured and hunger has left us, temporarily. Such moments are a regular part of daily life. Unless we are the cook, much of what we have just eaten becomes 'lost in translation'.

The other day, I thought of all the cooks who toil in the kitchen, day after day, cooking healthy and lengthy meals, for family and friends. What takes mere minutes to eat: an egg salad or tuna sandwich on sourdough, a bowl of homemade soup, maybe a salad, with fruit compote, tiramisu or hot apple pie, may have taken hours to create only to be gulped down and forgotten. Sometimes, the time taken to make a multi course dinner for friends and family could equal the time spent painting a room, refinishing an antique, or landscaping the yard. Here, the 'labour' is a beautiful transformation that is appreciated, timelessly.

We quickly forget the intensive labour involved in a meal, unless, of course, we are the orchestrators of its lengthy creation. Last week, I spent countless hours, making cabbage rolls. (At times, it seemed like days). Ha. Ha. The rice had been cooked the previous day but not without addition of sauteed 'diced' celery, onions and 'minced' garlic. Diced mushrooms were included, a new twist to this family favourite. In the simmering water, the next morning, I began the task of separating, gingerly, the cabbage leaves from the core of this maligned vegetable called cabbage. (A paring knife was used to make cuts on three sides of the core while tongs removed a leaf from each layer of the cabbage, one by one). A carving fork held the cabbage in place while I deftly snipped here and there, loosening the leaves continuously until most had been separated. Into a bowl went the separated leaves for the task of making the coveted 'holubtsi'.

The thickened 'vein' of each cabbage leaf was removed before filling the leaf with the delicious rice mixture made the previous day. (These thickened ridges of the cabbage leaf are generally left inside the casserole dish to cook beneath the rolls as they protect them from drying out or being burnt on the corners, inside the ceramic casserole dish). (Ceramic rather than metal offers a deeper, more moist heat penetration making the cabbage rolls more tender and more flavourful, in shorter time.) As each layer of cabbage rolls was completed, tomato juice was poured over the top with more salt and pepper added for flavour, in a slow oven of 330, over 2-3 hours. (Diced tomatoes, or sauce is no longer used. Simplify, Simplify). Hours of production disappears, 'lost in translation', when family devours these delicious handmade rolls over the course of three meals. Oh. My. If I wanted well made healthy, delicious cabbage rolls someone had to make them. That person was me, if certain standards were to be met. Food does not create it itself.

As meals come and go, the greatest 'loss' of labour occurs over the holidays where women, traditionally, are the ones stuck in the kitchen even on the 'day'. Course after course appears to the ahs and cheers of the seated patrons. Some of the foods have been made the day before to be reheated in the oven, later the next day. Desserts are generally made ahead of time, frozen till they can be baked or assembled into their expected 'costumes', prior to the meal. The hours spent organizing the celebratory dietary event can be endless. (A book shelf could have been made in the time taken to create another meal masterpiece.) The cost of dining out (over 50% is labour ) might invariably equal the cost a week's worth of groceries and the food might not have been made with the exact standard of care. There is no escape from meal time drudgery.

We admire a new renovation or addition, a recently purchased piece of furniture, a new area rug. We revel in their beauty, time after time. Whether in our home or in the home of another, 'hand made' objects are on display, appreciated, over and over again, their timeless quality and beauty; understood. In the case of a meal, whether in the context of a celebration, a holiday or everyday lunch or dinner, the labour required bears a similar time element for its completion to those 'inedible' objects of our desire. But accolades are few and far between, remembered in a general context, only, over time.

Labour is real in whatever we 'do'. For those of us involved in the daily, mundane acts of food preparation and clean up, it is incumbent upon the rest of us to say, “What a great meal” punctuated with genuine enthusiasm at the beginning of each course. Even the simple words of fermentation, curing, pickling and sourdough, can denote hours, days, weeks, months or sometimes years of 'preparation' and 'labour' to bring these food masterpieces to their standout performances. Their costs reflect that dynamic. Foods such as yogurt, sauerkraut, cheese, artisan breads, wine and meats come to mind.

Without the critical attention paid to the complex, but more often, monotonous rituals of food preparation, health can be affected. Let us appreciate, if not revere, those who work tirelessly, on our health behalf, to put meals on the table and health in our lives. Appreciate those meals, 'lost in translation'. 'Take-in' never tasted so good but 'cost' so little!

Moments to Remember

As we entered the shoe repair shop, the excitement began to show. (We had been customers for years). Our boys, in grades 3, 5 and 6, at the time, were here to buy 'new' skates. They were cheaper in this second hand shop. Retail shopping for skates did not make sense at this stage of their development. Second hand was fiscally responsible for our family.

We had moved to the country, decades ago, a pond included. It was reasonable to expect that outdoor skating would become a new reality for our family and friends. (Momsey does not skate though attempts were made many times). As I watched the trio being served I was reminded of their helpful, caring ways. They deserved the best we could offer; though, sometimes, second best was good enough. Money foolishly spent now would not be available later when it mattered the most. Skating and swimming were about year round fitness, fun and health. Their costs were more akin to an life insurance policy towards children's future well-being and safety.

I stood near one wall, inside the shop, waiting as each boy tried on his 'new' pair of skates. Dad stood near, supervising the fit for each son. Their dad was a phenomenal skater and had been working towards a career in professional hockey, years earlier, before an ankle injury forced a change in plans. As our oldest walked towards me, a 'new pair', in hand, he seemed quiet. As I looked down at John's new skates I noticed its profound ragged look, akin to an object in direct contact with a grizzly bear. Second hand had been taken to a new level. Yet not one complaint from the boy with the voice who made us laugh. The light colored fabric covering the these skate boots was almost indiscernible from any material I had known. All that remained was a barely-held-together pair of skates. Our son had accepted what had been offered him, in the spirit of the buying moment. Change was in the air.

'John' was never one to complain, none of them were, always ready to help out and take care of his 'buds', his 9 and 7 year old younger brothers and our pet family. In accepting a 'beyond repair' pair of skates without any fuss, John had demonstrated clearly the early lessons of financial security, integrity and frugality only too well. I asked him to return to the line-up for another try at the skate carousel. Dad understood. He had not been looking, concentrating more on fit than fashion. John's kindness, caring, enthusiastic nature with all things pet and family, deserved more, in this exciting buying moment.

Buying new skates is not always possible for families. The freezing cold winter season was short, in some years and the opportunities to skate, not always possible. Used had been a part of our family's philosophy. Why waste money when the future held untold financial dilemmas and decisions, especially with two large dogs and three boys to care for?  

 

When there were three pairs of feet to consider, buying new, for seasonal equipment, rarely made sense. Young boys tendency to grow quickly, in the early years, made buying new recreational footwear a challenge to accept. Wasting money on new could be an unwise decision. New skates would have to wait till they were older.

We strove for the qualities of caring, kindness and compassion in our boys and encouraged their self-expression and reliance, in daily life. Life was never about things, they knew. But in this particular instance, it was going to be. A newer pair of skates, 'intact' and 'showroom ready', left the store with its newest owner,  excited that clearer minds had prevailed.

 

A moment in character building had been on display that day. Moving to the country gave us an ice rink in winter, with predictable surface fractures, requiring maintenance with shovels and manpower. Skating was now more about fun and less about practice. It was now becoming a social event. Equipment had to reflect that.

We left the store, never to forget the story of the well-worn pair of skates. The young boy who could have been demanding, was not. The young boy who could have asked for more, did not. The young boy who could have been disappointed, was not.  The smile on his face said it all. For all his patience and acceptance of what had been given him, he demonstrated courage. His grand smile was all the reward we needed.

"It's Not Easy Being You".

As I stroked the little head of our newest family member, a 7-month-old rescue beagle/hound, as he slowly fell asleep, I was suddenly overwhelmed by what little 'Emerson' had endured before we got him. He had endured much. Many rescues do!

The little guy had been tried on for size, twice, returned, eventually, then sold to our son who found this precious little gem, online. (A puppy is neither a solution nor a cure for anything.) Emerson had been 'accosted' often, by others of his species, during his second audition. He was not one of them. He was a perfect fit, however, for the single life of a former owner of a rescue cat who had passed away, suddenly, from a congenital defect, years earlier.

Our son had been away on business, travelling with his brother, when the tragic news arrived, in the wee hours of the morning, that his beloved rescue kitty had to be euthanized. His sudden paralysis forced us all to face the reality that we were about to lose a special kitty we all loved. The tears rolled out. In a family of dog lovers, that was something. 'Tommy' was surrounded by those who loved him as he left us much too early in life. He had given us everything. He was a unique sort of kid. We miss him today, still.

The time had arrived to find another companion, one that could easily and safely travel with our son. At this stage of life, that was a must. Travelling with his newest rescue, an adorable one at that, he remarked, made the trips enjoyable. Whenever emergency care was needed, family was there. It does take a village, after all. Mr. Wiggles wondered 'out loud' who this little mate was? Could he keep up with him? With a new unneutered male encroaching on his terrain, Mr Wiggles was on guard for life and liberty. He simply did not understand. He was a puppy once. (Still is, I might add). 

Emerson was now in 'canine' country, inside and out. But he was with extended family, he slowly began to realize. The 'words' came easily for him. There was no hierarchy here only people who cared about each others' welfare. As he lay on his bed yesterday evening, his first weekend stay since that week long visit a few weeks ago, I suddenly envisioned a vulnerable little puppy who had suffered much, with little notice, from those previously in charge. He had been passed around from pillar to post. He'd had no say in the matter. Animals never do. But for now, he was all mine this weekend. Had Emerson wondered, as he began to fall asleep, if he would remain with these 'nice people'? He was ours, no matter what. We took pet ownership very seriously. (Five rescue animals now formed the nucleus of our love 'affair'.) The cage was moved so as to give him more 'privacy' in a room where two retrievers slept, toys abounded with fresh water, nearby. He was number one!

The little beagle danced as I made his first meal. His 'dad' had bought him the best: freeze-dried turkey with sardines, mixed in with Origen dry puppy food. With simple gestures encouraging him to sit and stay, Emerson had passed the first test of many: sitting quietly for 2 seconds before devouring his food. As time passed he began to sit longer knowing he would be fed sooner, if he listened. Such a sweet boy! 

 

Outdoor fun was an exhilarating time for Emerson, the little puppy. As he carried his short squeaky outdoor stick,  my Mr. Wiggles stole the moment trying to acquire this newest toy. And so they ran and ran. But the king of running and carrying all things, the Wiggler, could not keep up. As the moment began to escalate to a fever pitch, it was time for one of us to grab a dog, the easiest one to catch. (thank goodness for harnesses) Mr. Wiggles was escorted inside for a temporary respite from the excitement of the afternoon. Sally, our patient, could not yet join them. Earlier this year, she could outrun them both. But not today. 'Tomorrow', she would show them how a marathon should be run. She was a professional, after all, a true gold medalist.

Our little Emerson is learning quickly. During the nighttime hours, he 'squeaks', in rapid succession, to be let out for those personal times. He returns to his soft, freshly laundered bed to resume his sleep. As morning arrives, he awakens and waits to be let out when it is his turn. Then breakfast happens. He is becoming perfect.

Here at the house of Momsey, Emerson gets extra food. He is a growing puppy. His caloric demands are quite basic: Lots of exercise, outside. Food is given inside. He loves to run, jump and look skyward. He moves to the absurd much like our Wiggler, only faster. A bear hug, here and there, renews his faith in his newest family. He knows they love him. He knows they care. He'll be staying.

After eating a snack of homemade sweet potato fries,  sliced cukes, apple slices, strawberries and specially formulated meals, Emerson knows 'she' is the best restaurant in town. ... "Go to sleep, my little one. It's not easy being you. I know. But soon, it will be, because, here, you matter, are understood, noticed and wrapped in love. "That is all any of us want, my precious little pup"

The Amazing World of Canine 'Higher' Education!

As I looked towards the spot where Sally, our 8 year old retriever had just released her bladder's 'puddle', Mr. Wiggles and Mall Cop, the males in the group, had arrived, moved into position, to 'wrap it up'. They marked her spot, each covering the scent of what she had just deposited to keep 'others' at bay. Then little Ella arrived to add to the 'discussion' and 'punctuate' the spot. Seeing was believing!

Unusual animal behaviour had occurred. The act of bodily elimination is a daily occurrence in all animal kingdoms. With a male dog, it was common to see him protect his female companion by covering her scent with his to keep 'others' at bay. What made today's event so unique was Ella's interpretation of her older brothers' protective behaviour. He was always doing it, moving from tree, to grass then back again, to protect his domain. Mr. Wiggles had followed suit. He was a male after all. Occasionally, a 'collision' between Mr. Wiggles and Mall Cop's head was on course. But both males managed to go their separate ways. Soon the unexpected began to happen. Ella began to play follow the leader, lifting her hind leg, in accordance with male house rules, masking the scent of her male counterparts. It was odd behaviour even for odd Momsey to witness late in the life of little Ella..

Ella had learned to behave like a male and did what males do when other females are around, marking territory, covering the scent of the female. Who's scent was she covering, I wondered? Ella's actions were a remarkable feat of learning. I had never witnessed such misdirected allegiance to behaviour not ingrained in the female. Our little Ella, a 17 pounds, 4 year old dynamo, was acting like an 'interim' male, thanks to the teachings of her brother, Mall Cop, alias the professor. I recounted the event to her parents. They had seen it, too. In over 40 years of raising male and female pairs of retrievers, I had never seen such a feat of learning. Ella was an A student. I was in awe of her plastic burgeoning brain.

The adult female mini schnauzer had learned a behaviour unbeknownst to all of us. (The brain is this incredible plastic organ, command central, always changing, always 'learning'). In the mind of Ella, she was simply following her brother's lead. Her 'mom' told stories of Ella performing this 'masking' act, often, with her male sibling, during walks in the neighbourhood where other dogs lurked. I'd noticed this behaviour only while dog sitting the four of them. Ella was an interesting subject, always encouraging her brother, Mall Cop, the professor, to move or else. (I think he worried about what the 'or else' would mean. So he invariably moved to the absurd). I watched in wonder at these two. But then I watch in wonder at all of them including Tiggy, our miracle cat. I was observing and learning much from our furry four-legged teachers.

Dogs give us so much while telling us their story. I watch and learn and now know that an inert male canine trait can be taught, unknowingly, to a close canine sibling. Learning can occur in the absence of pen, paper or textbook. Let that be a lesson to the educational community. The young child comes to mind. We must allow the unconventional to be included in the curriculum in order for conventional learning to occur. Ella was now a most unique canine subject.

Recently, our middle son, the 'healer', adopted a rescue, a 6 month-old beagle. ('Adam' chose this precious rescue pup in spite of a long awaited business trip, to San Diego, planned months earlier). Family is now caring for this newest member during his absence. Dogs will surprise you when you least expect it. With a new puppy, in an excitable state of mind, around other more mature dogs, not of his species, our little 'Emerson' is learning quickly in his precocious puppy world. Mr. Wiggles is not far behind. After watching me place a rubber 'lady bug ' partly through the enameled wire top of the puppy cage, little Emerson began to pull it through. (Was someone else watching me, too?). I left for the kitchen, a few feet away, when something caught my attention. I returned to the cage to find our Wiggler's plush teddy, on top of the cage, partially through, next to the rubber lady bug, left by me, moments ago. Without missing a beat and behind my back, our wiggler had been studying me, followed my lead by placing his favourite teddy he'd been carrying, on top of the cage, near its center, in the hopes that Emerson would have another 'object of play' to pull through, in a new puppy game of brain stimulation. Emerson had learned a simple lesson taught by a member of his canine species. So had Mr. Wiggles! (Me, too!) (Little Emerson is given plenty of supervised outside time, with numerous squeaky balls of different shapes and sizes, to 'exercise' his 'freedom').

I was astonished but not surprised. Engagement had inspired learning. Little Emerson, the 6 month old beagle, had begun his apprenticeship program. In the world of canine behaviour, anything was possible. With Ella, Mall Cop, Emerson and Mr. Wiggles, I now realize, the games have just begun.

His 'Toy' Du Jour

I awoke to the waving of his toy from the Wiggler. Months of sleeping on the sofa preventing our canine patient 'Sally' from jumping onto it, has made my life seem funny at times. Our wiggler is an easy guy to live with his easy come hither look. As my husband moved about, that early Monday morning, 'John' suddenly realized that Mr. Wiggles was awake earlier than usual, with the latest 'toy du jour', he remarked. I laughed. Mr. Wiggles is our morning cup of caffeine-laden coffee.

Today, it was Reggie, the rhino, adorning my air space, as I lay on the sofa readying myself for another leash walking day with my 'patient'. On previous 'visits', our pink retriever had offered his squeaky silicon ball with its easy grip handle as his special gift to those near. Then there is Rudolph, the tiny reindeer and numerous other 'fluffy' characters to have and to hold, all over the place. The louder the squeak, the better, he thinks. The turbo soccer ball is ready for outdoor play whenever he stops eating grass. (I chase him for that). The rubber melodic indoor doughnut pleases us all as he walks and walks for all to see and admire. He squeaks it hoping the photographer is on site for that perfect moment. He aims to please, after all.

We admire Mr. Wiggler's skill for all carrying things. No pet predecessor has had this profound need to carry, squeeze and give. The monster ball red ball, with an attached handle, is his most cherished toy, used outside, as he attempts to pickup the turbo soccer ball, too. Mr. Wiggles is an all-purpose performer. With three red balls, in diminishing sizes, our wiggler has a number of aerobatic outdoor stunts to perform.

I take pictures, all the time, for personal use only. It is an addiction where my pets are concerned. They do funny things. With a human grandchild in my world, now, pictures with our wiggler are beginning to mount. Children and dogs, oh so predictable and natural, but also a dangerous kind of thing, too. Supervision is an all day thing. We must teach these new humans, even from the age of 6 months, how to pet gently and softly and be ever so kind with the animals in our midst.

Our wiggler has no time to talk as he must get ready to carry his noisy silicon 'water bottle', his favourite, today. He is a forever sort of entertainer, always finding the appropriate toy for every occasion. He has the squeaky indoor worm for his amusement, while outdoors, he has yet another all-weather version, a silicon worm toy for holding and for previous training to walk with me. He holds on to one end; I, the other. And so we walked, walked and walked. Repetition is the name of a dog's training life game. With deer antlers-a-plenty, he chews till it is time to find that perfect soft toy to squeak. When visitors arrive, he runs to get either the worm, the water bottle, the donkey or the red doughnut. He is one busy boy. Comedy is his talent though he does not see it that way. Gifting is his job.

In the dining room, I see that our canine visitor has been here. What toy has he left behind? Is it a deer antler today or the huge silicon orange-coloured football with a handle attached? Each toy has its own unique characteristics and he hopes his selection will please his human family. It always does. He adores his walks through the kitchen to this special eating place. Sometimes, he has scrambled eggs, there, this superfood of superfoods. He is in motion ready to please and carry.

So many toys and so little space. He runs hither and thither, hoping for attention. He always gets it. He needs it. He's quiet and oh so patient. He waits. Cradling something is a must for him. Never saw anything like it. He's a one in a million. When he is especially lovable, he will jump on sofa to meddle in my face, staring at me with that mature look of adoration. I love it so. Am I on vacation? Must be,'cause I think I am. I haven't noticed the difference. What is a vacation but a place or a moment in time where good things happen. It is a frame of mind. Living with 'them' is like being on vacation though I haven't been on a 'real one' for years. No time to dither. Time to carry, one more time.

It is night time now. Time to relax and slow down. Not so, with our wiggler. He is too happy to sleep. Where is Reggie? The rhino is under the bench where the squeaky football is lying. Things to carry, things to find, things to offer to us. The toy du jour is wiggler's happy frame of mind, a place we visit when he is near. Little does he know or understand that he is the gift, our precious toy du jour, each and every day.

The Executive Power of a Baby

He sat in my lap looking up at me, smiling, as he put his little hands into his mouth. He was a polite 6-month-old, this miniature human who happened to be my grandchild. We seemed to have an eye for each other. In the 75-percentile for height and weight, he was strong and alert in a body built by his mommy, 'Lucy', the editor of the Momsey blog, now on maternity leave. (Meals were cooked by daddy.)

His parents work from home. Everything my grandson needs is there, this never-ending full-service department of 'nursing' care, diaper changes, hugs and kisses, nap and play time, to outdoor walks, vitamin D and earthing. In good weather, this gift of earthing is an ever present right of passage for him. His parents insist on it. He needs what Mother Nature has to offer, that calming, soothing walk upon the earth that helps build and renew a new human while keeping the older versions strong. Standing barefoot in the grass is a healing, spiritual moment for him. I see the difference. He looks down at his toes, firmly grasping the greenery of the lawn. As time passes, he begins to realize the awesome power he has over these caring people called parents, grandparents, aunt and uncles. His energized focus will soon be felt.

He began using the jolly jumper, a few months ago, that incredible body building tool that helps redefine what a baby can do. His feet are strong; his hands, so powerful. His view of the world, now in an upright position, is becoming a happy exciting place, a new world of fun for him. With legs in motion, little Eddy begins to jump, while slowly moving in circular motion. He is on this infant 'trampoline', loving every minute of it. He is at the gym. Calling his name causes him to move towards the voice he hears. After a few moments, he facial muscles begin to contort. Time for a change. Words are not here, yet. Rolling out the blanket for a kicking good time, on his back, begins another phase in his development towards independence. He is moving in all directions. He is on a mission. In restaurants, he is passed around the table like the main dish he is. He needs action. All want to touch and hug this incredible brand new being. We are compelled to gravitate towards him. He is an innocent, too.

'Edwardo' is full of delight and energy; his eye focus, incredible, for one so young. He has a body built of strength by mother's milk, created from an envious diet of super foods. Soon after a long 40-hour labour, devoid of medication, the birth event arrived, taking its toll on his diminutive, exhausted mother. She did not waiver. Her pain threshold is beyond anything in my vast repertoire of experience. The Momsey editor is strong for her newborn. She is focused on her diet, eschewing sugar and most fruits because of it. Her energies are devoted to their creation, a bright little boy intent on learning all about the world around him. She is teaching him sign language; dad, other things. Momsey is a new grandmother but with a purpose in mind. Eddy's other grandmother takes him for walks and adores him so.

Technology has no part in this baby's play. Simple things dwell in his simple world. His burgeoning, plastic brain will handle anything from the future. No need to rush progress. (The human mind is the greatest computer in the world, anyway, according to Einstein, the greatest human computer from the last century). Eddy's parents will see to that. It is his human qualities that are being nurtured, now. They are first on the to-do-list. Order is very critical. He is a remarkable little baby who will be home schooled. At 6 months of age, he has begun learning how to pet the cat and 'interact' with Mr. Wiggles who loves him so. Mom is present to supervise. There are two ways. He is learning the right way.

From the beginning, Momsey began to sing “Tea For Two” to him. A lullaby was not forthcoming, only that song from the golden age of Hollywood, a song made famous by Doris Day, the talented triple threat of the 50's. My little boy likes it, smiles at me whenever he hears me sing it softly in his ear. Its catchy tune with silly lyrics makes us smile. But watch out Edward, your musical history is about to begin, with mom and dad, grandpa, too, a former classical pianist. (Momsey is just a silly singer). Your talented parents, both gifted musicians, are here to guide you. But “Tea for Two” will always be our song. 

You are an inquisitive boy, an adult, in some ways, too. You cry, when necessary, quickly, momentarily and politely. Your voice is always heard. There are no weekends off. "You choose these moments well, but then, mom and dad are always near.” No need for attention-getting. Attention is the name of mom and dad's all-hours parenting game. They hover, masterfully, acting much like a  family of birds, in the nest, in this golden period of attachment. For now, mom and dad work from home. It is a special time for all. Family is everything to them. There is no other world quite like it.

Not Wanted, Anymore

As I listened to the plaintiff cries of the 'puppy', after 'Sally's' re-dressing appointment, I asked the technician on duty about the latest patient of the day. Thinking it was a case of spaying or surgery of some kind, I was unprepared for yet another sad story. He was a rescue, a senior statesman, an unwanted. His medical history had become his albatross, as his 'owners' no longer wanted him, his age or health issues to 'bother' them any longer. He had been found 'lost' in the woods.

The world of canine abandonment is a busy, endless place. I remember the story of a couple who rescued a puppy from euthanasia, moments before it was to happen. Their Labrador retriever puppy lived to the ripe old age of 19 years, an incredible age for any dog. Then there were the endless stories of dog owners who wanted 'them' out of their lives simply because the canines no longer matched the colour of their home decor.

The web is awash in horrific videos and pictures of defenseless, innocent pets whose owners  callously deposited them outdoors to die. The outdoors proved to be their lucky escape for many of them. Witnesses abound there. Reasons to put animals to sleep are endless. Dogs and cats are called animals yet we are the humans. I do not understand! But abandonment is easy. When pet ownership becomes overwhelming, discarding the family pet, when help is just a phone call away, is never an excuse. ...

Dogs do not judge. Unlike cats, they do not hold a grudge, for long. They do not care about lifestyle. They simply exist to run, sleep, eat, play and do our bidding while making us smile and healthy along the way. They give us purpose and help socialize us, too. They are, most assuredly, a daily teaching tool, an escape to reality. They make us human!

Our first pet was an abandoned three-month-old retriever found wandering 'alone' in the biggest Toronto landmark called High Park. My brother and his lifeguard buddies who discovered this vulnerable beauty took turns caring for her each day until her owners could be found. No such luck. With no collar on her for identification, there seemed to be no way to find them. I was leaving Toronto for a teaching post, up north. It made sense for us to take her with us. We adopted her in a heartbeat. Her litter, months later, after a summer trip out west, created the double edge scenario of the two dog family. It made sense to us. It made sense to them, too. That was 46 years ago. Our canine journey had begun.

Becoming pet owners to Sheba, decades ago, was life altering. She presented us with a litter of 9, months later. (Spaying had been forgotten). Later into the school term, we were evicted from our rental unit because of our new family circumstance. We had decided to keep one of her litter, a son. Once the 8 puppies found forever homes, we moved to another city, for a new teaching post, renting another house but summarily evicted, again, when the adult children learned of the 'mother and son' furry couple who would be living in their mom's rental house. In less than 9 days we became reluctant homeowners, forced to buy a tiny abode with only two conditions. The house had to have a roof and 4 straight walls. School would begin soon and winter was just around the corner. The thought of ridding our lives of our pets never entered our minds. They were family and the better part of us.

He walked in as I was paying the bill. His little pet had been soiling the house. He wanted it euthanized. What was I hearing? An infection in a young animal deserved euthanasia? Tests would reveal the problem, he was told. But he did not care! He was in a hurry. The clinic declined his request to impose the death sentence upon an innocent. The man left. Jumping the queue to euthanasia, that horrible of all moments, says alot about who we are and the direction we are headed. 

Dogs bring us joy, unbridled laughter, sadness, too. They're our in-house therapists in a frenetic, seeming uncaring world. They help bring us together, help us re-focus and redefine who we are. Pity has no place in the dog kingdom. They do not know its meaning. Our pets force us to move in all kinds of weather while making us better at being human. We are their willing students: they, our teachers, everlasting. Abandonment is a callous solution.


Next: Momsey's Incredible Grandson!

Our Magnificent Canine 'Patient'

There was a light at the end of her 'tunnel' that long journey our retriever had travelled after major orthopedic surgery had been done, four months ago. During that period, a strict code of 'behaviour' had been enforced. Leash walking, no jumping or running was in effect. ... (Her 'DNA' had been put on hold). ... Normalcy was about to begin. Then it happened. A lump, found on her front leg during one of our play sessions, derailed us again, with its sense urgency and timing. It was not a fatty lump. It was cancer.

Several needle aspirations determined what lurked deep within this misshapen soft furry lump whose dimensions seemed to be shrinking. Cells of a nasty kind with surgery to follow began this latest crisis. It was urgent. We worried. Her doctor managed to speed us to the front of the line and expedited the medical treatment for our precious girl. Dr. M. was our hero! A return visit to the hospital, where previous surgeries had taken place on Sally and Mr. Wiggles, would follow in short order. Nothing was left to chance. The results had come in on a Friday. On Saturday an appointment was scheduled. By Monday we'd met with the head surgeon with surgery planned for the following Wednesday. It was early July. It was masterful orchestration, a wonderful end to a unsettling beginning. It was magic!

Our surgeon, back from vacation, was superb - again - his skill set, top notch, as usual. All instructions were clear and concise. A couple of years ago, when our Wiggler had been seen by this illustrious man of veterinarian medicine for a mysterious egg-shaped neck lump, we had been advised simply "to keep an eye on it." We had, till one evening it grew and could no longer be ignored. 'Others' had wanted to remove, dissect, investigate, then try again. Our surgeon did not. His ultra conservative, common sense approach made us trust him even more. (Our one-year-old puppy was not an experiment for 'study'.) Never! Next, please!

A large rectangular 'open' wound now resides on Sally's front leg. The area is raw of tissue. It is not pretty. Not enough to suture together, we were told. The wound would be left 'open' to heal. How could that happen, I thought? An extra layer of skin had been removed, reducing any telltale signs of the ghastly disease in her body. Would it return? No one knows the future. A zero count of regrowth we were told. Chemotherapy will never happen. It is not in her future. Dogs do not know of death, just the moments to moments, day to day quality of their life. Being in a strange place, at night, inhabited by people in white lab coats during the day, does not a quality of life make - for a dog. To them, they only see tall strangers, abandonment, being sick and locked in a cage. Where is my family? Would 'they' know how to love her? That is not their job. It is ours. Toronto or New York would be destinations for chemo. No thanks. She means too much for us to pull that stunt. Her diet has been upgraded. Her rooibos, caffeine-free tea, is a more concentrated formula to kill the cells that might want to grow. It is a health giving tea for us; a life-giving tea for her, right now. Other single ingredient foods will be added, as necessary. A raw diet is practiced by all animals in the wild. She is a member of that group, too. Certain foods will be researched then considered.

Twice a week, the wound is redressed, swabbed in layers of gauze with the sterilized silver pad on top of the raw layer of skin, beneath. (Silver heals all wounds). A picture is taken, each time, then sent to the surgeon for his examination. His reputation began the process in July when the surgery was performed. Three sets of professional eyes have now seen 'it'. Not me, however! I cannot look. I simply listen to the medical banter and wait for further instructions from the doctor present as I cradle our girl on the floor on her designated blanket during each appointment. The doctors' words guide me every step of the way.

Our Sally wears a 'rubber' boot, a former intravenous bag, now being recycled as fashionable footwear, attached to her leg with gauze like ribbon, for the outdoors. I try to avoid rain, as much as possible, in this current rainy summer season. At one point during a heavy downpour, I worried about the rain dampening her bandage - 4 days away from a 'redress' appointment. I waited then wrapped the top half of her wrapped front leg with plastic wrap, just in case droplets of rain hit her 'leg' above the 'boot', moved downwards then soaked the sterilized medicinal 'covering' adorning her sterile open wound, beneath. (Risk of infection loomed large in my head). I am a worrier. Her foot and leg must remain clean and dry, indoors and out. Seasons count in this instance. No deep snow, ice or freezing rain to worry about. There are some things for which we are truly grateful.

August 21^st marked a triumphant day for our healing girl. Her wound is 80% smaller; her silver pad, 50%, I was told. Real progress in real time. Sweet Mr.Wiggles is learning to play alone, though at times he tries to engage his sister with his turbo soccer ball, as she descends the short staircase, outdoors. "Not now, my sweet boy. She cannot run." Neither can I, at present. I'm busy. She has been through many incursions this past year. I love her so. She is a soldier, a true warrior. Even the doctors think it so.

Lectins, An Opposing Momsey Theory...

Though I saw him for mere minutes on the Dr. Oz show, I knew my world was about to change. I was circumspect, somewhat, troubled by what I had heard. Though the T.V. segment lasted mere minutes, the information gleaned from such a brief encounter had lasting effects. How could it not?

The lectin doctor was serious, as had been the three 'other' illustrious men of medicine before him who had professed their dietary health truths in their published books.The current dietary truth about lectins made me cringe and laugh at the same time. Was sugar going to be O.K.? And chocolate sauce on my salad? Was peeling the skin and removing the seeds from a tomato now going to happen to keep me 'safe'? Some things made sense while others seemed nonsense. Was white bread the good guy now? I thought organic and whole grains were the goals.

Organic and Non-GMO stand tall in the produce and grocery aisles. We eat steamed vegetables alongside multi grain foods, no sugar added, please. Seeds and nuts are tops, I thought. Vegetables are on that podium, too. Then along comes a doctor with a whole new set of rules on the modern diet and throws me to the wind. Now what? OK, I get the scenario described. I am a good listener.

I imagine some plants were not eaten 10,000 years or more, ago. 'Civilization' was a crude form of rules within a population structure. As we evolved, did not the food system, too, slowly? Seeds and nuts weren't eaten much, then, while other live 'subjects' were hunted. But the machinery to process these hard shelled natural foods was not available, either. We now have miniature grinders in the kitchen to help make nuts and grains a more palatable food. Heating can aid in their bioavailability. Does that not count for something? As food methods developed, systems for their 'nutrient' delivery did. Industrialization changed the world and the way the food supply was managed from farm to table.There was much work afoot and unpredictable weather patterns to consider when planting seeds, raising herds, harvesting and distributing all of it to us. Getting the products to market, be it drugs or food, sometimes, meant 'short' cuts. The health of homo sapiens began to change. Then dietary books, written by illustrious doctors, began to appear on the book store shelves. The light shone brightly on what we were eating. We were made aware. Fruits and vegetables are now a 'paradox', taking a hit, in this newest dictum on our diet. Choosing paleo isn't much better. (Who has the time to pursue a food chemistry degree)? As a little girl, I ate very little meat, preferring to chow down loads of salads (thank goodness, they're ok.) mashed potatoes with homemade gravy containing an elixir of garlic and other secret ingredients my mom had in the refrigerator. (Had she discovered a new food group?) I was happy with the simplicity of my diet. I knew what we were eating each day of the week. Simple and Easy. Food security was everything. Now, some of those early choices are suspect.The nutrients of food are found in the skin, and seeds. If we abolish the lectins housed there do we abolish the nutrients they carry, also? What happens next? Do we get credit for anything we eat? (Yes, we do, for some of the superstars in our diet are real super, such as virgin olive oil. It has vitamin K. Who knew?)

Fasting is another component to health, the doctor reminds us, a period when the body has a chance to clean house. Makes sense to me. We seem to be eating non stop, anyway. We drink. We snack. We nibble while indulging in several small meals a day. Good ideas or too many to consider. Fasting helps to reset our metabolism and allow our much ignored thyroid gland, to reprogram itself in the making of the hormones that make it and the whole body function better, on so many levels.

Technology rocks and rules our modern age. But books can, too. As do the four illustrious doctors on dietary health. Do they know everything? I'm not sure. One thing is certain: I know something. The evidence is here to support my 'thesis' - one former 13-week preemie son, now grown and making us laugh, lived with a roommate, our miracle cat, for 7 years. (She is now working on her 3^rd life). Both were expected to die, shortly after birth, by their doctors. But their 'parents' believed in the miracle of dietary selection. These living, breathing mammals entered our lives and lived, one being fed mother's milk, from a diet resplendent of nutrients and sinister lectins from grains, seeds and little meat while the other mammal, a -27F degree cat, ate Greek yogurt for survival, a no-no in her specie's diet. Who's right?

Too many voices, online, are confusing us, telling us what to do, what to eat and which videos to watch to learn the secrets of the foods that can harm or help us. If we stop to meditate for one moment, we begin to realize that maybe our bodies are attempting to talk to us, too. We should be listening. They are our true masters. ... Hours ago, I had a lettuce and ham sandwich, on multi-grain German rye bread. The ham, a Tuscany recipe, nitrite-free, with visible fat, for all to see, was oh so delicious. I supplemented that heavenly meal with radishes and green onions with iodized salt and a brew of white and green tea. Oh, my. A simple meal from my past. How could any of that be wrong? But some of the errant foods I have grown to love were not meant to be, according to the lectin doctor. Does body chemistry or biology play a part? Somehow, it must. ...

Good dietary choices must always be a priority. Our health is no joke! The lectins are out there, hidden in some of the skins and seeds of the plants and fruits where nutrients lie. Where is that red delicious apple? Mr. Wiggles and Sally want one, too!

Lectins: The Dietary Dilemma of Our Time!

After reading about the 'belly' doctor, 'listening' to the grain brain doctor and watching the functional medicine man on PBS, months later, more unsettling news about our modern diet surfaced. What next, I thought? I am now faced with more troubling dietary news from a most illustrious man of medicine. Is this for real? Oh, my. Is our food world collapsing? I thought our choices had dramatically improved.

Had I been living a dietary lie since birth? Dr. Oz had the newest expert, a renown cardiologist, on his show, recently, in a snippet food segment, warning us about the plant protein called lectins, found in many of the foods we eat. It seems these proteins, found in plants, dairy and meats are present as a defense mechanism for the plant or animal against intruders who might eat them - other animals and us! (Step aside, gluten). Lectins, mother nature's toxic messengers of defense, are hidden in many of the healthy foods we eat. (Dear Dr. Oz: The doctor should have been the whole show not a small snippet of it, near the end. That was a great disservice to your viewing audience.)

In his latest book, The Plant Paradox, (I have not read it, in its totality, yet.) the 'lectin' doctor, a world renowned cardiac surgeon, a surgical inventor with patents pending, talks about our modern diet, with its after effects of weight gain, cholesterol and autoimmune diseases. He is a gifted researcher and director, having performed the most pediatric heart transplants in the world. Who is not going to heed the warnings of a man of medicine with such a list of credentials? The doctor cautions us against eating certain species of the plant kingdom, quite a few actually. Whole grains were not meant to be. The paleo diet is also on notice. I am so sad. Stay away from the seeds inside and skin outside. I'm listening, with trepidation. A life time of 'healthy' eating cannot be wrong, now. I love the skin of baked potato, apples and the zest of lemons. Green bananas are fine. (They are resistance starch and the peel is not eaten, anyway). The other three men of medicine have said similar things about grains, those denizens of my food world. Are we now adjudicating for processed foods, somehow? Are we doomed?

Lectins are found in legumes, grains, dairy, meats and plants. We are being told to soak dried beans in more frequent water changes, overnight and again before boiling them for 10 minutes. Rinsing canned versions, preferably organic, of course, helps to remove more of these sinister lectins. Remove all seeds and skin, from vegetables. I think many of us do. Certain seeds and nuts are a no-no. Oh, my. Lectins are in there, too. O.K. I get it. Sweet potatoes are fine, thank goodness. Leafy greens are super. Many foods have a numerical lectin count that diminishes with proper cooking. The raw diet is now under the looking glass.

Here's Momsey's 'paradox': I gave birth to an infant, over three months too soon, decades ago, eating a diet consisting of whole grains which 'early' man rarely/never consumed. The doctor and other 'experts' dismiss outright my 'food pyramid'. (I had no choice.) I ate what could be tolerated, minutes at time. Sleep or naps were 'our' salvation. Our baby's pediatric specialists were astounded by our first born's birth weight of three pounds, two ounces. Babies begin to gain weight in the 3rd trimester. Our son never made to the end of his second.

"The proof is always in the pudding." My 'pudding' is proof that my 'biology', though it struggled through three pregnancies, knew what it was doing for our baby. But now, those food choices are suspect. What has changed? Has human biology or plant biology changed since then? It was this simple daily diet that was central to our son's, in utero, survival. There were no cravings for the 'wrong' foods or processed food, including much loved pickles. Relentless morning sickness lasting all day, everyday, controlled what I ate and when. A small window of opportunity, lasting minutes, existed to feed our son. Food was expelled within 10-15 minutes of eating, in a body not meant to carry to term or 'build' a fetus. Cooking whole grains such as buckwheat kasha, cornmeal, oatmeal, red river cereal that mix of cracked wheat, flax seeds and rye, kept our son alive! He arrived, a living, breathing miracle, because I literally 'survived' on grains, these ill-advised choices of modern man, according to the illustrious lectin doctor. The baby grew into a funny man of strength.

As I ponder the food universe, thinking about what to do next, I realize some food choices will not change but preparation methods must. I will still chomp on the whole raw apple, seedless, but not peeled. There is ursolic acid, the muscle builder, just under the surface of the apple's skin. I am not throwing it out! Our dogs love those tree fruits and benefit from them in their diet. The battle will be fought in the grocery aisle. White and green tea 'extracts' are tops with the doctor so I will endeavour to tip the scales in favour of these centuries old Chinese teas, more often. I enjoy them anyway and have been for decades. Whew. But other teas matter, too, for me. Citrus will be juiced or peeled as needed, then eaten. I will still eat dried/canned legumes but mindful of the increased water changes for their preparation. They are a cheap food choice, high in protein but delicious, too. Boiling them for 10 minutes will follow. I will endeavour to use my pressure cooker in instances where I might not have, in the past. High heat cooking destroys lectins.

Momsey is in information overload. How does all of this help vegans, vegetarians or raw foodists? The Paleo diet is under close scrutiny, too. Beware. We are all different in our unique ways. Lectin number counts vary for each food within a type. The lectin number is high in some foods but not necessarily dangerous to our health because of it. Our unique human biology matters. 'It' seems to begin in the gut - again! But first 'it' must be healthy. The origins of food allergies, doctors say, are rooted in this nightmarish lectin puzzle? How did we get here? Where's my Italian Rum cake? With my green/white tea brew, I should be fine for another day!

More later.

Homemade Fish and Chips

Cod Loins. The pieces of fish were thick serving-sized pieces. Only salt had been used to 'preserve' them. I was fed up with the take-out overcooked fried fish variety and companion 're-fried' chips, in over-used oil of 'questionable parentage' and paying top dollar for the privilege. One piece of fish with thrice-fried fries and barely there coleslaw was enough! There was the time when our fish and chips order arrived to our table already rancid, fried in oil that should have been discarded long ago. The customer is not king, anymore. Let us take our dollars home.

The other day, we had fish and chips at home, in that place where good food usually happens. The worry of quality and quantity, gone awry, was history. We were getting annoyed reminding 'them' not to overcook the fries, disappointed in the one size-fits-all piece of fish and asking where the side order of coleslaw was, refusing to accept the 2 tablespoons of this cabbage mix as if that was regulation side dish to the main fish course. (a head of cabbage that makes oodles of slaw with a cheap grated carrot included, cost $2-$3 at the retail level.) Barely there coleslaw, over-cooked fish and leftover fries, refried again. Whatever has happened to common sense and respecting the consumer? Gone, I guess.

Following is Momsey's recipe for homemade fish and chips. Buy the fish you want. Wild caught is preferred. Experiment with different kinds. How bad could that be? Expand your world of seafood. What is good for fish is fine for other seafood, as well. Choose a high smoke point oil. A low smoke point oil, such as olive oil is harmful to health, degrades quickly, changes colour while it smokes and is a very costly oil to use. I use avocado, sunflower or peanut oil, to name a few. Other frying oils are yours for the choosing. Cooking at home is so much cheaper, fun, healthier and relaxing, especially, when babysitting pets and young children. Home is where the heart and good food are found.

The batter I make consists of any combination of organic all-purpose flour, powdered buttermilk, baking powder, tapioca flour, brown rice flour and organic sprouted buckwheat flours. (Keep a record of the list of all ingredients and the changes made to achieve perfection). An egg is added though I forgot to include this dairy staple, the other day. Grass fed or organic 2% milk is used since learning of the health benefits of organic and grass fed. Organic is the way I go for all baking and cooking purposes. (Water or beer can be substituted for milk for the liquid in the fish batter). Spices such as tumeric, onion powder, salt and pepper can also be added. We are only limited by our imagination and our food preferences. The batter is left to rest. The fish pieces are dipped in tapioca flour (gluten-free) to facilitate batter adhesion before pieces are dipped into batter for frying. Oil should be hot, not smoking. Never leave unattended!!

Fish can also be simply pan fried with seasoned sourdough breadcrumbs as a outer coating. Season as needed. Coat with egg prior to dipping into breadcrumbs. Yum, yum. Place battered fish into hot oil, slowly, to help batter stick to fish before going fully, into oil. (The 'yellow' fleshed or russet potato fries have already been blanched in a bit of oil, in the air fryer). My final step for the fries is to continue the cooking time, in oil, for that final takeout-look and taste. This final step is not required though I do it now for that extra kick of yum! Cooking the cut potatoes fully can be done in the air fryer. I choose the oil step, a few minutes more, at medium high heat, for overall crispness, colour and flavour. The battered fish, once deep fried, can be returned to air fryer to crisp the outside 'coating' and placed on bed of fries, next to the homemade coleslaw.

Coleslaw can be made many ways. There is the oil and vinegar dressing, boiled then added to mix and allowed to infuse flavour, overnight, in the fridge. Grated carrot that great precursor of vitamin A is added. Other vegetables can be added, too. Then there is the dollop of mayonnaise with vinegar, sugar and salt to create that barely there dressing for immediate indulgence. Another version is simply mayo with salt and vinegar, a common coleslaw dressing many might prefer. My mom's version was still different, an accompaniment to sandwiches, meats or chicken: lemon juice, salt, pepper, and diced green onions mixed into shredded cabbage and carrots for that healthy no-dairy version. This 'childhood' coleslaw was served, often, with much delight. Finally, we have delicious homemade fish and chips with that barely noticeable batter coating that is as yummy and healthy as the fish itself, with a large bowl of coleslaw! What a meal! What a deal!

Gentle. Loving. Endangered!

The baby elephant had been found wandering, alone, in the wild. His chances of survival without help were dismal, at best. He reminded me of our sweet Mr. 'Wiggles', as this orphaned baby looked into the camera's eye. I was riveted to his adoring 'pink' face, with its simple message of love and hope. Sadly, the baby was unaware that momma was dead, nearby, as he struggled to get her to stand. The story of overwhelming sadness and hope held me in its grip.

The story begins in Nairobi, Kenya, at the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust sanctuary, in Nairobi National Park. The program profiles the plight of one 3-month-old baby elephant named Sities, having been rescued from imminent death when his momma was felled by an ivory poacher's bullet. I was in awe of the devotion shown  these infant mammals by their male keepers. It was above and beyond anything I had ever known. 

 

The stroke of death in the cruel world of ivory poaching made Sities an orphan, hours away from certain death.  I was saddened and hypnotized by the plight of Sities and other baby elephants, not realizing how grave the situation was for them, the black rhinos and many other endangered species on the planet.

Sities had hours maybe a day to live. He was captured, without sedation, as this emergency 'travelling' medical procedure can prove fatal, then brought to the elephant nursery and paired immediately with a male keeper, his soon-to-be surrogate mom. ... This gentle human lives with Sities, in a 'house' built for two, in a bonding arrangement that can last for two years. Baby elephants grieve over loss and can literally starve themselves to death during this stressful period of mourning. Several male keepers are involved in his 'revolving' life care, reducing the elephant baby's dependency upon a sole gatekeeper in his life, a threat to his long term survival, later.

Elephants are loving, caring, gentle creatures much like us, yet unlike us, in the ways that are unseemly. The species creates cohesive, nurturing bonds within the strong elephant family structure. The human male keeper's role is to nurture and care for the elephant infants so that they may rejoin other members of their species, in the wild, by the age of two. The hope is that an adult female elephant will claim one orphan baby as her own and assume the role of 'mom', when these juveniles are introduced to other members of the elephant herd in daily outings to the 'park'. Re-integration into the species is the sanctuary's goal for all orphan elephants.

Elephant babies are totally helpless, fragile beings, requiring a human or elephant 'element' in the critical bonding experience necessary, from birth, for their survival. I was in awe of the shared commitment of the many dedicated male keepers hired to raise these elephant babies. The human male keepers had families of their own yet their strong faith in what they were doing brought them to this world renown elephant sanctuary to save orphaned elephant babies. ... 

 

Human infants feed every 3-4 hours; baby elephants, every few minutes, for a little bit, round the clock, a nearly two year commitment! The male keepers of these orphaned elephants must feed and teach these babies how to drink and bathe, too. The continual touching and handling of the infant mammals and their trunks helps teach these tiny elephants basic life skills that must be learned for survival outside the safety of the animal sanctuary.

There was a time when it was thought that baby elephants could tolerate cow's milk. Many died as a result of this error, unable to digest fully the protein in cow's milk formula, the 'perfect' food everyone thought. At the Nairobi nursery, an 'elephant' formula, 28 years in development, now contains coconut milk and fat, the ingredients most like elephant milk. (Over time, elephant plant food is introduced during the weaning process). But Sities does not know how to drink but is learning and will be taught this life-saving skill by his male keeper over a period of months. The male keepers are routinely rotated, creating change in the elephant's daily routine thus reducing separation anxiety, later, when the 'teen' elephant rejoins his herd.

Following is a passage written by Jessamy Calkin, Feb. 24/2012 that explains the helplessness of orphaned elephants. 

 

"We must do more and be ever so grateful and 'supportive' to those who have spent their lives, through much anguish and pain, saving elephants and other species from perilous extinction. Into the eyes of innocence we see the future. Eradicating poaching and restoring habitat are just a beginning to the story of elephants and other endangered species."

 

“ It is an extraordinary feeling, being surrounded by little elephants. Some of them approach curiously, frisking me with their trunks and nuzzling, gently, as I stroke the tops of their whiskery heads. Their skin is rough but sensitive; the backs of their ears, soft and velvety. They like to wind their trunks around your arm and draw your hand into their mouths to suck your fingers. They look up at you through eyelashes that are ridiculously long and iridescent in the sunlight, as if they are wearing green mascara. It feels very luxurious to be among them.” _ J.Calkin. Feb. 24/2012

 

Marinades.Dressings.Sauces

Additives, preservatives, color enhancers and other 'fake' ingredients are pervasive in many of the foods we buy, especially, the 'toppings' that grace the 'main' dishes in our diet. We strive to buy quality foods but we fail, realizing some food companies just don't get it. Stop it already. Save your money. Save your health. (We cannot survive without them).

The biggest concern is the continual use of sodium EDTA and other ridiculous non-food but food grade??add-ins that frequent the 'toppings' we use. Perhaps the time has come to wrest control from those companies who do not care. Momsey's sauces, marinades and dressings are simple, meant to provide health benefits while adding to the the overall appeal of the food. Eating is about health not just satisfying hunger. (Glucose-fructose is still there stimulating our appetites to no end).

Using a dry rub concoction, after the marinade has done its duty, requires simple experimentation: choosing 'clean' spices that excite your palate that can also add colour for visual appeal. I use iodized salt, pepper and tumeric to start then add smoked paprika (mimics bacon's flavour) other paprikas, oregano, thyme, rosemary to customize the taste for a specific meat or vegetable. (Sourdough breadcrumbs are the only breadcrumbs I use for breading foods for frying since writing about Sourdough, Rice and Pasta (Oct. 5/15) Marinades are simple. Using a heavy duty freezer bag, I add vinegar and/or, lemon juice, salt, perhaps Worcestershire sauce, chopped yellow onions or the milder vidalia onions, diced or sliced crosswise for a stronger flavour. Massaging the contents, before the air is removed from the bag, helps strengthen the process of tenderizing and flavour enhancement. Leave in fridge for a few hours or overnight. (My favourite is a Saskatchewan recipe using lamb chunks layered with onions and lemon juice. It's a tremendous addiction).

With dressings, we begin the process of making the salads that begin or end a meal, with their suitable topping on top. (Homemade concoctions trumps anything in the grocery aisle). All it takes is one look at the ingredient list. Glucose-fructose is still with us. Go away! Even Dr. Oz has warned us of its use in processed foods. It has not been a part of food preparation in my kitchen for decades. Can't 'afford' it. For my simple oil and vinegar dressing, I use organic white vinegar with organic olive oil, canola, grape seed or avocado oils, to name a few, or a combo of all. A mix of oil to vinegar or lemon juice to suit one's palate, (2:1 ratio ) shaken with salt and pepper and other herbs such as oregano, basil, thyme is all it takes. Refrigerate. I never add sugar. Why? Dessert is just around the corner, if wanted. Let us add our own reduced sugar, if the need arises. When making a fruity dressing, adding pureed fruit to the oil and lemon/vinegar base kicks the flavour up a notch or two for a change of pace delicious. (Pureeing dried fruits adds flavour and sweetness according to your meal time rules)

Lemon juice is truly the 'additive' king. It cleanses the body as it adds incredible tenderizing flavour to all meats, other foods and salads, too. In a marinade, lemon juice modifies the flavour of lamb, beef, pork, chicken, when paired with them. Lemon is my #1 go-to ingredient for nearly every food or mix of ingredients I eat. This powerful 'additive' is on the counter, ready for action. Into my Chinese teas, lemon is added, adding health benefits, too. It takes no time or effort to shake the ingredients into fresh homemade salad dressing. With white sauces, it is brown rice flour, a discovery by my 'daughter' a few years ago. I love it. It's nutrient value, ease of combining and mild flavour makes it my gluten-free flour of choice. Into the white sauce, I add other ingredients to make varied cheese sauces, foundation for chowders, stews and chicken pot pie, to name a few dishes. (My gravies are now 'guilt-free'). With tomato-based sauces, there is a litany of herbs to add after the onions and garlic have been sauteed. Keeping life simple helps to keep food preparation simple, as well, and more likely to happen. No added sugar!

While visiting a bakery, recently, we noticed the gallery of cookies, pies and cakes enticing us to buy. (We had already eaten.) The adjacent 'hot table' provided a cornucopia of choices to wet the appetite. When told of the maker of some of the cakes we were adoring, we were disappointed, but not surprised when we discovered their 'online' 20 non-food ingredients found in these elegant desserts. Their composite list far exceeded any I would have had in any cake or pie I might have made at home. Real ingredients, mixed in with strange sounding names, and other additives to make the sweet creations had me wondering, “What exactly is modified corn starch?” When will 'they' realize they would sell more product if they would only use real ingredients? We do not need additives or preservatives in our food. We have refrigerators and freezers for that!

More Baking Outdoors

In my 6^th year of blogging, I have come to realize that food posts must make sense, be meaningful and helpful. Our health status is a barometer of the food we eat. Momsey is no clown, does not fool around when it comes to food. And she listens.

Food is about health, longevity and strength. Cooking is not performance art as many food shows would seem to make us believe. We eat to be healthy and 'wealthy'. Cooking is not a joke. Neither is barbecuing. The “Living Better, Electrically” mantra of the 60's or 70's, has no meaning today. How could it? Costs of this utility has skyrocketed. Using the barbecue rotisserie adds another costly layer to a homemade outdoor meal meant to be cheaper and healthier.

As obesity rates rise, worldwide, we must begin eating at home, more often, year round. As the menu selections of the retail dining landscape change, we must wonder what is still inside those dishes meant to feed us. Some dining spots are still not listening as they present to the dining public overcooked-fried foods, especially, the ever-popular fish and chips in its over-used 'frying liquid'. Refuse its' over-done' appearance. Only golden will do. The acrylamides lurking in carb loaded 'high heat' foods can 'inflame' us. Send it back to the kitchen. (Cancer has been mentioned). Not again. Oh My. Char grilled steaks have no place in our diet, anymore. High heat is bad idea, left to the past. This overly done technique harms the integrity of healthy fats, meats and us as it releases the acrylamides into the foods we love to eat and into the bodies we need to protect..

Our new 'end of summer clearance' barbecue, bought last year, does not have a rotisserie add-on. I did not want it. I did not need it. We found a basic model and acted quickly on its sale purchase. Our new 4-burner barbecue is a dream. It is a simple appliance made of stainless steel, inside and out. The old one was fraught with rust and danger. It had to go. The new heat indicator, on the outside of the hood in this new basic model, registers a correct inside temperature, something the old one could not. Setting a specific temperature now allows me to bake more items, more easily, outdoors, with our new hot box, in the stifling humid days of summer. (Always clean the grills after using. The 'aromatics' left behind, can attract critters in your area and make for a nice nesting spot for little ones, inside). Removing all noticeable fat from meat is also a good idea, first. Flare-ups from direct heat are then avoided.

Placing whole meats or their 'pieces', fresh or frozen, directly above unused burners #2 and #3 while #1 and #4 are on, helps 'roast'  the foods slowly, thereby retaining valuable juices and unimaginable flavour with the vegetables close by. A food baster is a must as it replaces the rotisserie's 'coating abilities'. Helping to bath the meats in its own juices is a nice delicious touch. (Collected juices can be used for soups later.) The threat of overcooking is reduced. Aluminum foil and pans makes cleanup and cooking a breeze. ... With our newest feature - a working hood thermometer - accurate cooking times and temperatures are now a reality for Momsey. Soon, I will be testing my theories by 'barbecuing' an apple pie in this outdoor cooking appliance. Carrying a portable timer from place to place allows me freedom to go wherever I must, inside and out. (Remember, open flames, outdoors, even in a barbecue can be dangerous.)

I am now considering cast iron pots, those age-old cooking utensils. They are perfect, able to withstand the effects of the intense heat of a barbecue. Cast iron has been used for thousands of years, great for open-pit camping, too, though its weight can interfere with the miles per gallon equation we hope to achieve when travelling by car. Understanding how quickly the 'hot box' heats up, even under controlled circumstances, makes the baking of cakes in 'low-rise' pans, possible. Fruit crisps, too, and three layer cakes with two pans on the bottom, and one on the top shelf. A sheet of foil can slow the browning of the baked foods on top.

Cornbread, biscuits, crumbles and other delicious dishes are now possible, baked in the outdoors in an appliance called a barbecue. The 'bakery' is an easy stop on our food journey to the barbecue in the suffering heat of summer. But I also make cauliflower au gratin, macaroni and cheese, meatloaf, all prepared ahead of time then cooked in the barbecue for roasting or that last minute oven-baked look and yummy taste. In my Phillips Air Fryer I have baked 4 cookies. Baking these handheld goodies in the barbecue is next. ... Watching the temperature and the 'maillard' browning action take place, makes baking outdoors an exciting experience for all. All it takes is the desire to modify convention to incorporate the unconventional and to never use burners #3 and #4, ever again. Well, maybe, sometimes.

When Only Lettuce Will Do

As I left for home, having spent time with my my 2 month old grandson, I thought of the sandwich his dad had made with the ingredients brought to the house for lunch that day. ... (The Momsey editor gave birth in March on the anniversary of the day I found our Tiggy, the now 14-year-old wonder cat). Five fresh artisan buns, a few tomatoes, chicken, lettuce and some roast beef had been brought to the house. Simplicity in food preparation is always a nice change of pace. The baby had his own customized super food, courtesy of his mom. 'Lucy' was receiving a special order of grilled calamari with an oil, garlic and lemon juice dressing topped with diced tomatoes and green onions, during this nursing phase of motherhood. The only thought that came to mind as I made my left turn, that afternoon, was the large fresh crispy head of lettuce torn apart to accessorize the sandwich he was making. Flashes of the past came to mind when only lettuce would do.

Lettuce was the star attraction in salads and sandwiches, of my youth, with coleslaw as its mate, a nutrient dense mix of shredded cabbage, diced green onions and grated carrots in an oil and lemon juice drizzle. Nutrition was never under discussion. My mom simply knew. (She was born in 1921). We dressed the 'appetizer' mainstay, built on lettuce, with the usual ingredients: tomatoes, curly endive, green onions, grated carrots and radishes, everyday, unless there was soup. Soup was the main entree not the appetizer it is today. My mom's Saturday night meal - ours, too - was always a large head of lettuce, caraway rye bread and kielbasa. Nothing else would do. We ate it, too. That was understood. Today, the produce aisle of greens involves romaine, spring mix, beet tops, kale and other exotic leafy foliage to grace our meal time choices. My childhood dinner plate was always half full of salad made with lettuce. Salads were my dessert. (Meat was less important). Herbs and spices are center stage, now, packing a nutrient dense wallop to our health while adding a flavour and taste punch to the foods we eat.

Winter time gives rise to those 'tired' heads of lettuce that have travelled great distances and look the part. I choose the exotic greens then. The humble lettuce cannot compare to the colourful salad greens of nutrient dense fame. But sometimes, only sometimes, only lettuce will do. As I entered the home of my grandson, today, excitement ruled the moment as the sandwich materials began their journey to creation. The final crowning glory on top of the chicken, in the onion bun, was a large chunk of fresh crispy lettuce, the 'sound' of which cannot be duplicated in the exotic: kale, spinach or mixed greens.

Lettuce was king in my yesteryear salads. It had to be. Mom bought nothing else. Salad = lettuce. This off-white, mixed yellow and green head of plant leaves graced our dinner table landscape often, especially on Saturdays. Today, lettuce's large outer leaves now lay claim to being a bun stand-in whenever bread is not wanted. Though lettuce was the main act, once upon a time, today it is simply support staff when contrast of colour and crunch are wanted. Mother nature's simple foods are always energizing, tasty, healthy and cheap, regardless of their origins.

As he made his sandwich that afternoon, my son separated then washed the layers of lettuce for that final glorious step, in this simple lunch time favourite. It's crunchy, green leaves had left an indelible mark on his food history. Lettuce made it all work. In this moment, it punctuated the sandwich in a way that leafy greens could not. Lettuce had been a crunchy part of our family's food history and the only colourful choice in the salad made to accompany Momsey's homemade noodles and cottage cheese.

The more processed a food is, the more 'others' have interfered with its production and will, ultimately, with 'you'. Health matters daily, not occasionally. Lettuce is nothing special, of course, in its close-knit family of greens. But sometimes it is my must-have sandwich/salad link, to 'clean', healthy and delicious. It may not be exotic, glamorous, or heavenly to look at but lettuce can make everything it stands beside, in a sandwich or salad, the 'icing on the cake' for just having been included. Lettuce, like celery, can sometimes be missed, when it is absent. But every so often, in certain instances, it just seems right that only lettuce will do.

Special Ed.'s Vital Detours

The slow/slower learner label used to describe students of special education, these 'outside the box' learners, has always puzzled the Momsey. For it is we who are 'slow' in not being able to 'cope with the scope'- understanding fully - the magnitude of the learning problems facing these unusual little Einstein.

The teen students I taught, in the last century, before the birth of our children, years later, were incredible students, engaging and quick to learn. Formal 'academic' subjects were challenges to them, however. My all-male classes were respectful, bright boys who longed to excel in everything they undertook. What, I wondered, had not happened over the nine year period prior to their entry into high school. I was a beginning teacher whose thirst for understanding my 'boys' knew no bounds. ... As a parent volunteer, many years later, I began to demystify the hidden rules of learning for children: engage, question, laugh, and question further. Dialogue, in all forms, was the critical first step for all learning to occur. Language 'moves' learning.

Are we boring special children with our interpretation and details of a somewhat outdated turn of the last century education model? Let us make noodles, bread, pizza, danish, sfogliatella then 'dance' to finish out the week's 'academic' assignments with these at-risk children. (The five senses of the body, some say six, are being engaged, critically). The wasting of precious time has greater consequences for the child left 'behind'. Time is a precious commodity for all, more so, however, for those challenged by literacy and numeracy proficiency. Delivering a specially designed curriculum for slow learners should not, unto itself, be slow! Novel approaches should rule the special education dictum, randomly and often. Boredom is a deterrent to learning. Let the teacher decide what is best for her special brand of student and implement her modern approach that rocks the minds of these at-risk children, with 'help' and as early as possible.

The young plastic brain is waiting to 'absorb' what is useful and 'prune' what is irrelevant. In these 'flashy' moments of time, the traits of curiosity and confidence thrive as the building blocks of learning are being molded and created. Today's fast-paced modern world is a place of high-tech gadgets at our disposal. But wait. Building a creative mind is more than just using the latest high-tech gadget. My brother, a physicist/mathematician and his mentor, Albert Einstein, believe in the quote of the famous 20^th century scientist that the mind is the best computer in the world. (and a terrible thing to waste!)

The classroom is a point of life-off, a safe haven for those whose confidence and language skills have suffered. Structure in the classroom becomes a 'soother' for them. The art of order and nurturing begins here, respecting and encouraging these special students' learning style. Introducing 'safe' but novel experiences becomes a priority in helping these children develop. A future life is not an easy place to be if we are not prepared.

Special Education learners are anything but slow, I realized long, long ago with my own children. One was headed in the direction of special education, we were told within days of his premature birth. A simple Fisher Price music box was his constant soothing companion, in his incubator, this '2 month home' away from home, helping grow his fragile infant brain as he recovered from his near-death birth experience. Our oldest 'preemie' then became their 'high-tech human toy' for his two younger brothers, born within the next two years. (They became his language therapists). Dialogue, not toys, became the group's instrument of play. A two-way walkie-talkie was their 'modern' look at language. They were encouraged to think, every step of the way, much to the chagrin of their parents, in later years. Oh, My.

The high-tech, hand-held world has changed everything for everyone, especially for young at-risk children. In the classroom, colouring books, quiet time and attempts to draw animals can waste precious time and human resources. This directive serves only to dampen learning and provide an 'alternative' reality that seems productive but is not. As we move less, our hand-held devises and laptop computers keep us in a trance as we sit for long periods of time absorbing new information or re-visiting old 'sites'. Our children can sometimes be the 'victims' of this modern accidental philosophy. Outdoor education has proven to be one major key for fast-tracking learning for young children. The outdoor classroom rules as does Mother Nature herself.

The child's brain has the capacity to grow in unimaginable ways. Let us serve the most challenged children in ways that connect with them in a non-stop fun-loving manner. Creating the 'whole' child should be the name of the education game, personalized for maximum effect. In Momsey's child-like world - M.M.D.D.- (Music - Movement - Dough - Dance ) would serve the child like no other teaching tools. Research has proven this. I have seen the magic unfold when yeast dough was used in Mary's primary intensive language class for nearly five years, decades ago. It was never about baking. It was always about thinking, doing and leadership. (The redundant teacher was the goal). Engaging the child creatively was helping them become the successful people they were meant to be. It was magic, each and every time!

Making the most of each and every day with at-risk children, in creative 'unstructured' ways, is akin to paying a visit to a part of the brain that the child did not know existed. Interesting things happen. Looking into the eyes of a child serves to connect him/her to a world view of life, learning and love. There is no substitute for the 'human' experience. Of that there is no doubt.