christmas lights

Today I decided to string some lights on a few trees that would only be seen by us. Not for public admiration, just a little bit of sparkle to delight us and remind us that elves are working away. It was a task I undertook on my own and being as I am not tall and the trees are growing on a steep-ish hill so a ladder would have been tricky, I really hope the only observers were rabbits. When I light our indoor tree I am ridiculously obsessive about the placement of each light, so I was quite pleased with my devil-may-care approach today. Of course, the results speak for themselves and as always you get what you pay for but I am still delighted with the little bit of sparkle in our private space.

As I was tossing strings of lights as far up the trees as I could I couldn't help but remember a Christmas-gift-making day with Merin and Eden. Merin was making a throw for her sister-in-law. In most things she was almost maddeningly perfectionist but in just a very few others she was adorably devil-may-care. She could wail over muffins ever so slightly over-baked but on this day when she ran out of the yarn she was using to make an incredible and luxurious fringe on the ends of the blanket (about 20" too soon), she calmly announced that it was fine. She was finished.  Eden and I laughed - and told her that it was not fine!! It simply wouldn't do. One can't give a gift that far from completion. She laughed with us but insisted it was fine. I can easily see her sitting at the sewing machine with her little baby belly just beginning to show and her face glowing with happiness. Such a good afternoon with my girls. A Merin memory that makes me smile.

postscript: The throw was completed another day. Don't know if the sister-in-law ever knew how close she came to getting a very unique gift.

I'm back and proud to announce….

I am back (after too long away) and very proud to announce the birth of my latest grandchild. Yes, Jonathon had a baby and he named it LITCHFIELD with a tagline of 'How We Live'. The birth - like most first births - was a bit longer than one would have liked and a little more painful but my goodness, the baby is beautiful!!! 

Jonathon has been tossing the shop concept around for a while and a few months ago decided that there was no time like the present. So he left his position as president of Sturdy, visited with his bankers, signed the lease on a fantastic space in the Gastown district of Vancouver, rolled up his sleeves and gave up sleeping, eating, and playing to build and open this very cool shop.

He describes it as a lifestyle concept store. I don't know much about that but I do know that I love everything about LITCHFIELD. That may be because the idea for the shop started from our family - the way we live, the things we have collected and love, the places we have lived. The space is beautifully done with elements that recall bits of family - the grasscloth on the wall is definitely a nod to my father and the house he built, as is the beautiful walnut used throughout. The long run of walnut shelves were designed by Jonathon and built by Thomas with a little help from Daylan and David. Brass covered industrial shelving lines the opposite wall and upstairs there is more industrial shelving made cool with slabs of resin ordered from Martha Sturdy's workshop. Eden's amazing photography is a wonderful addition to the decor and adds another layer of family interest. My sister-in-law Paula Litchfield contributed her incredible talent to paint a stunning "rug" on the concrete floor that looks perfectly like the scrap of Japanese indigo fabric we showed her. There is a picture of Merin on a shelf because it just seemed right that she be there. The bison rug under the vintage mid-Century Danish sofa is like the rug in my living room. And the merchandise on the shelves is inspired by items we have used or loved - some made by us. Overall the shop looks like a sibling to each of our homes. There is a story in the store if you care to look. 

The shelves are loaded with everything that I want one of. There are baby alpaca throws from Peru, handmade knives from Japan, bison rugs and Japanese blue and white dishes. Exclusive (and incredible - I never knew my life was not complete without a set until I saw these) headphones from France made of Italian leather. Italian bags. Handmade axes (and yes I want one!!! although I have no idea what I would do with it) and Blackwing pencils. Skincare that is pure enough to eat and Snow Peak Japanese outdoor gear that makes me want to pull out the tent and hit the hills, never mind the snow. Laguiole knives from France that had me sighing and the most unique and beautiful scarves from Japan that I lust after. Cool hand knit 'house shoes' from Peru with salmon skin leather soles, hammered copper mugs from Japan, a truly amazing porcelain iPhone/iPod speaker from Italy (no power needed), Turkish towels, Danish bowls, my favourite cookbooks…. The list is intriguing and long. Every item chosen because it is beautiful and useful. Because it will last to be handed down. Because somehow there is a connection to our story. Because quality is utility as well as luxury.

I worked with Jonathon for a month as the shop took physical shape, the days were long and very full. It looks so simple but was in fact quite a lot of work. I am glad that I had the experience because I will forever appreciate the details of a retail space in a totally different way. I will notice things I simply took for granted until now. I will know that each individual element - although perhaps lovely on its own - adds up to more than the sum of the parts. Besides that, it was a lot of fun to work with Jonathon and I don't get that pleasure often enough. The only regret I have is I was so busy working that I took only iPhone pics and not many of those, so that is all I have to show off. But like any proud grandma the quality of the pictures won't put me off showing all and sundry. So from start to opening this is the journey…

If you are in the area, be sure to stop by. The shopkeeper is the greatest guy :)

postscript and a cautionary tale for thanksgiving feasters

My mother - being a fond  mother and therefore one of my most devoted readers - explained to me one of the mysteries of my childhood after reading the post on a different pumpkin pie. It is a sad, sad tale but the moral is improving so I am moved to share.

My father loved good food and a good dessert just naturally follows a good meal, especially a good holiday feast. His mother, my grandmother Ina Burr Merrill, was a famously good cook and a very warm, loving mother. I remember the smells and delights of her kitchen, the cookies and pancakes, the huge family gatherings with cousins and aunts and uncles galore. Of course she made pies to die for -the apple pie with her own unique spin (the spin that she taught my mother and my mother passed down to me), rhubarb, and other pies as well. But the pie my father loved best and could never, ever have enough of was her supremely good pumpkin pie. One day she promised him as much pumpkin pie as he wanted ...  Nobody (aside from my grandma and my dad) knows just how much pie that was but apparently my dad was more greedy than wise. He ate and ate and ate that delicious richness of pumpkin pie until his stomach rebelled and he was sick. He never ate pumpkin pie again. So you see, it is a sad, sad tale. Let it be a lesson to all. (Just what that lesson may be I leave up to you to discover. On reflection, I have discovered at least a few.)

Although this recipe is not the pumpkin pie of the sad, sad tale it is one that my grandmother had in her files and it is written in her hand. When my mother gave it to me she also gave me a most wonderful gift - she said that I was a lot like my Grandma Merrill. She too had her basic and favourite recipes but loved trying new ideas and had recipes written on scraps of paper and bits of paper napkins. To be told that I am like my very much loved and wonderful grandmother in any way at all just absolutely made my day!

I considered making this pie for our Thanksgiving feast  but decided that to go against tradition might incite mutiny but I will for sure be giving it a try before long. Maybe with a few changes though.... just can't do Dream Whip :)

old reliable pancakes

I realize (I do!) that calling these reliably favourite pancakes 'old reliable pancakes' is very likely selling them way short but I have been sitting here for more than a few minutes wondering what to call them. There is no name on the bedraggled piece of paper that I have chased around my kitchen for years - the paper with the recipe written in a hurried scrawl, portions crossed out and re-written as I discovered a new and better way to make these pancakes that we come back to time and time again. This is not to say that we don't love the new favourites but this version is the comfort food version in our house. I have been making them in one form or another for all the years of my kids lives (and we won't go into how many that would be). 'Old reliables' is what I call them in my mind and so that is what they are christened here. No pretence, nothing fancy - just old fashioned, reliably good pancakes with a new healthy twist.

There are several flours in this recipe and each adds something unique, so if you have them or want to add them to your pantry, go for the gusto. On the other hand if you don't have and don't want them all, just use what you do have and make sure the total volume adds up. (Usually volume alone is not the best way to exchange flours but I have found this recipe is incredibly forgiving in this regard.) The only non-negotiable flour-wise is the cornmeal. It is an absolute must and probably the reason these are so beloved - the crunch is perfection. The other absolute is the cardamom - don't ignore it either. And if I can, I would encourage the use of whole grain flours because anything else in pancakes is a ridiculous excuse for the first meal of the day and shouldn't be eaten by man or beast.

We like to load these babies up with Greek yogurt, fruit and a drizzle of lovely pure maple syrup. It makes a lovely start to any day. Or if you want to end your day with them, an egg on the stack is pretty great too.

old reliable pancakes

1/2 cup spelt flour

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1/2 cup almond meal

1/2 cup buckwheat flour

1/4 cup cornmeal

1/4 cup ground chia seed

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp cardamom

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp sea salt

3 eggs

2 1/2 cups buttermilk (or soured milk of your choice)

1/4 cup grape seed oil

2 Tbsp pure maple syrup

Combine the dry ingredients in a medium bowl and whisk together.

In a separate bowl add the eggs, buttermilk, grape seed oil, and maple syrup. Whisk together then pour into the dry ingredients and fold just until the dry ingredients are incorporated. Bake on a hot griddle, flipping when bubbles appear on the surface.

a different pumpkin pie

When I was young I thought pies were made with fruit - usually apple but sometimes rhubarb. My mother didn't make cream or custard pies - probably because my dad didn't like them. When pumpkin pies were brought to the table at our extended family gatherings for Thanksgiving or Christmas  I was unimpressed; I thought they looked awful and couldn't imagine what would entice anyone to eat pumpkin pie. Then I married into a family that rarely ate fruit pies and always, always had pumpkin pie to cap Thanksgiving dinner. Horrifyingly I was asked to make and bring a pumpkin pie to that significant family gathering the first year we were married. I had never tasted a pumpkin pie, let alone made one but I wanted to please and impress so I pulled out my trusty Betty Crocker cookbook and got to work. I don't remember how successful the endeavour was in the end - I do remember a bit of an issue with a spill but I must have boxed up and shipped out the rest of the memory because there is nothing there. Also in the interest of pleasing and impressing I ate pumpkin pie with my new family and never let on that I had not always eaten pumpkin pie. What a revelation!!! and what a lot of wasted time. Except for the sad appearance there is just nothing to not love about a good pumpkin pie.

This pumpkin pie is a different pumpkin pie. At least as good but different. No baking and no gluten but lots of the delicious rich spiciness that dresses up pumpkin so very well. The recipe was shared with me by a good friend ages ago - I just made a few easy changes so that it is now free of gluten and refined sugars. It still doesn't look like much but it is so, so good.

Might just be a good addition to the menu for Thanksgiving - it is just around the corner here in Canada.

a different pumpkin pie
(adapted from Pam Sellar's recipe)

Crust:
1 1/2 cups crushed gluten-free gingersnaps
3 Tbsp melted butter

Mix the butter and crushed gingersnaps. Press into a 9" pie plate. Set aside.

Filling:
1/4 cup honey
1 envelope gelatin
1 1/4 cup canned pumpkin puree
1/2 tsp each - allspice, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, and sea salt
3 egg yolks
1/2 cup heavy cream

In a medium saucepan whisk the gelatin into pumpkin puree, then add the remaining filling ingredients and stir to mix. Cook over medium heat until it begins to bubble, reduce heat and cook for a further two minutes. Remove from heat and cool.

Cream topping:
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp honey
1/2 tsp vanilla

Combine the cream, honey and vanilla. Whip until soft peaks form. Take out about half the whipped cream and set aside. To the remaining half add 1/2 tsp cinnamon and fold to combine.

To assemble to pie spread half of the pumpkin mixture into the gingersnap crust, cover that with the vanilla/honey whipped cream, spread the remaining pumpkin mixture carefully over the cream and finally top with the cinnamon whipped cream. Chill and enjoy.

october four

Today is Merin's birthday. It is not a sad day. Today I remember her birth and the overwhelming gratitude I felt for her life the night she was born, the gratitude that has grown since that night. I think of moments and days in her life and feel so much warmth and joy. I remember her beautiful smile, her sweet and generous nature, how she was sometimes too hard on herself but so forgiving toward others. I remember her  temper and passion, how she worked (consciously) to harness both and how she so sweetly apologized when temper slipped the reins and she "freaked out" about something. Her life was short but full - she could have done much more had she a longer time here but she did everything she wanted to do. Her passport was full of stamps from countries around the globe. She earned a BA Honours degree, she danced, she taught, she loved, she married, she was a mother. She was not perfect - no one is and I don't want to make her into what she was not - but she was wonderfully sweet and perfectly Merin. She was a ray of sunshine from top to bottom, inside and out. 

Happy birthday sweet Mer! Today I celebrate your life :)

went to the ballet

Last night I went to the ballet. Madame Butterfly was the ballet, Alberta Ballet was the company. The performance was wonderful and the plot well-expressed through the choreography, Pucinni's compelling music, the sets and gorgeous costumes. I was thoroughly there and thoroughly enjoyed it. But more than the beauty of the ballet I was able to relax into the memories of Merin that so flood any experience that touches dance. To relax into those wonderful memories was a welcome joy.

Merin loved going to the ballet. Even though it almost always entailed rushing home from class to dress and primp - in a flurry and fluster - and finally arrive breathless at the theatre to sit in less-than-desirable seats on the third balcony (or to stand for the entire performance at the Paris Opera House when in Paris) she loved the ballet. She loved anticipating the show and, when the night arrived, dressing up to meet the occasion.  She loved meeting her friends, going with her sister, sometimes with me, or going solo. She loved the atmosphere that attends the event, the music, the dancers, the dancing - she loved the dancing!

Last night's ballet - centered as it was on Japan - was colored with another layer of memories of Merin. Memories of finding a studio and teacher that met her standard and need the year she was in Tokyo with us. Teaching her the long and multi-change train route to that studio once we found it. Sitting in the heat and humidity of the studio while she took class. And then knowing that she could easily go on her own but going with her anyway just for the joy of sharing time together.

Ballet memories are so very heavily loaded for me. Three years have passed and I miss my Merin more intensely than I can say. Time has mellowed the pain of loss in a way and I hope that mellowing will continue but I am realizing that I will always yearn for Merin and grieve her loss, even as I anticipate our eventual reunion. Being in a ballet setting brings precious memories to the very front of my mind and heart in a way that demands I pay attention to them. Until last night the intensity and sheer volume of those memories teetered on the edge of too sharp. It was wonderful to remember and feel the warmth of all that my daughter was as I relaxed into those precious memories last night. Once again, I know that life is good.

image from the Alberta Ballet website