In Broad Daylight

Crime victim, in happier days

On Saturday night, after we got back from Owen Sound, the neighbouring English Foxhound and her daddies came for supper. Roast leg of lamb, mashed potatoes and gravy, peas with mint, rosemary focaccia, apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Mmmmmmm.  

Since Murdoch and Niall will be keeping our Cardi while we’re on vacation, we all wanted our furchildren to get better acquainted. My partner and I have been to our neighbours’ apartment, sans Cardi, a couple of times, but it was the first time that our neighbours had been to our place.

At one point, Murdoch stepped out onto the balcony for a smoke. Would he notice? Would he say anything? Possessing Celtic blood myself, I feared our neighbour might have as little natural English diplomacy as I do. My fears were not unfounded. Re-entering the apartment, Murdoch addressed the elephant in the room: “Hey, when are you guys gonna get rid of your Christmas tree?”

Lucas the street kitty fled in horror. The dogs cowered. Even the elephant hung its trunk in shame.

In this city, for a few days in January, garbage collection includes pick-up of Christmas trees which are then shredded in a wood chipper and used as mulch in public parks. The workers may simply drive the chipper truck along the route; I don’t remember. Trouble is, we had missed those days, but were loath to have the tree carted off to the dump. 

Fortunately, Murdoch’s wit matched his wag. His solution was to drag the Christmas carcass around to the parkette in front of our building. Several large maple limbs, broken off during the winter storms, were already waiting there for the public workers to collect them and chip them, so why not an innocent little balsam fir as well?

I knew it was cheating. I knew it was against the rules. I thought it was brilliant. Now to wait for a rainy night to sneak the tree away.

Three days later, while making stew with the leftover lamb, I remembered the tree. I also remembered a news story that I’d heard in grade school. It seems two guys stole a canoe from a department store, during open hours, in broad daylight. They simply donned white lab coats and combed their hair nicely. Then they entered the sporting goods section, picked up the canoe, and walked it out to a waiting truck.

So. Once the stew was simmering, I donned my coat and tuque, attached the pupster’s leash to his collar, dragged the tree off the balcony and through the apartment and down two flights of stairs and along the side of the building to the parkette to the fence to the pile of waiting limbs, and tossed it. Then poggles and I went for a nice hour’s walk. When we returned at 3 pm, we found half a dozen sparrows sheltered under the fir, using the maple brush as a clubhouse.

Food, Glorious Fasts (not about dogs this time)

Picture above from

 http://www.io.com/~beckerdo/minis/mini28/MedievalTavern

I’m interested in many things, not just dogs. For example, I was a vegan for about five years once, although of course at that time I didn’t own a dog.

There are many types of vegetarianism, and many reasons for it. People may be vegetarian for religious, nonreligious-but-ethical, health, or economic reasons. Dogs may be vegetarian because they love their humans and want to please them. Vegetarians might abstain from red meat, fish, eggs, milk, honey, spices, alcoholic beverages, or even certain vegetables. The Buddhist monks I once knew, for instance, abstain from garlic and onions, but use shiploads of leeks.

Below is a menu and recipes for a nice medieval Lenten supper. Don’t, don’t, don’t feed any leftovers to the dog, except maybe a small crust of the bread. Alcohol, onions, and raisins — so I’m guessing maybe currants too — are all poisonous to poochie.

A. The menu.

- Crusty whole-grain bread (preferably containing some barley flour)

- Cabbage chowder

- Ale (not lager, which is a summer drink)

- Wheatberry-sesame dessert

B. The recipes.

1. Bread. Pick up your favourite loaf on the way home from work. You won’t be buttering it (milk products were forbidden during Lent), you’ll be dunking it in your soup, so you want something hearty.

2. Cabbage Chowder. Wash and finely chop 1 large onion, 1 leek, 1 lb or so of cabbage.  Place in a big enough pot with 3 or 4 cups water, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp each coriander, cinnamon, & sugar, 1/8 tsp saffron. Cover and simmer about 20 or 30 minutes, until you like the degree of tenderness. Freeze the leftovers.

3. Ale. Ale is the proper brew for winter/late spring, but if you’re more the lager-lovin’ type you might try an India pale ale. Water’s fine, too — but it didn’t use to be, which is why it was usually served up in bactericidal, alcoholic form.

4. Wheatberry-sesame dessert. This one is delicious — and copious. Share the leftovers with your friends and neighbours. Cook and drain 2 cups wheatberries. Toast 1 cup sesame seeds. Grind up 3/4 cup nuts — I think mine was a mix of walnuts and slivered almonds. Dismantle 1 pomegranate for its seeds. Stir all these things together, along with 2 Tbsp currants, 1/2 cup sugar,  and anywhere from 1 to 3 tsp cinnamon.

The cabbage soup recipe is taken from Maggie Black’s The Medieval Cookbook (1992). The dessert recipe is from Ingeborg Ralph and Penny Stanway’s Christmas: A Cook’s Tour (1991). I’ve chosen a Christmas dessert for this menu because its ingredients are medieval and acceptable to Lenten observers and vegans. Also because, if you’ve just put up with cabbage and unbuttered bread, you deserve something colourful and tasty. Also because, except for the two hours or so needed to cook the wheat kernels, it’s really quick and easy to make, and of course you don’t want to take time away from playing outdoors with your dog.

But this post isn’t about dogs.