R.I.P. Civility, Propriety & Respect

This past week, we celebrated our our 21st anniversary. My hubby planned a romantic, overnight getaway to Niagara Falls for dinner, a show, some gambling and, the piece de resistance....a Saskatchewan Roughrider/Hamilton Tiger Cats game on the way home today. I suspect that the game came before the romantic part, but it's the thought that counts, right?

When we arrived at the hotel, we had a couple of hours before dinner, so I gave in to my cold and slept. We changed out of our travel clothes and into something more appropriate for The Watermark Restaurant atop the Hilton and headed up for dinner.

OK, so this is Niagara Falls. Maybe not known for it's classy establishments. But if you can afford to pay $50 for a plate of prime rib, you can certainly afford to wear something better than a sweatsuit to eat it in. We weren't dressed to the nines, but this isn't Arby's or McDonald's. Coincidentally, I wouldn't wear a sweatsuit anywhere but in my house.

We watched as a couple entered the restaurant, he in shorts (hello??? it's almost November!!!), she in an old sweatsuit. An older gentleman sitting behind us with his wife and and another couple was dressed in a suit, but he kept his cowboy hat on. Take the damn hat off when you are in a building!

I recently saw some photos on Facebook of guests at a wedding. I didn't know it was a wedding, until I saw a picture of a bride and groom. I thought the photos were of some people at a pub. Young men in jeans and t-shirts, with baseball caps on backwards. Their ladies were dressed in appropriate attire, so it obviously wasn't a surprise that they were going. I just don't get it.

I was always taught that you dressed appropriately for the occasion. So was my husband. He would never dream of showing up at a funeral parlor in anything but a suit. Same thing for a wedding. No jeans to church. Does God care what you wear? Probably not. It is just a sign of respect. And that my friends, is the kicker.

Respect for one another doesn't exist anymore. At concerts. In restaurants. In church. On the road. I fear we are fast becoming a generation of egotistical, belligerent, entitled misfits.

Do we not teach our children what is right and wrong anymore? Do we live our lives thinking that we are entitled to offend the people around us by our actions? This isn't just about what we wear, it's about how we live our lives.

We were so impressed when we first met our daughter's boyfriend. He came in the door and the first thing he did was to remove his cap, shake my husband's hand and say "Hello Sir". Two small gestures and two words. We immediately knew that this young man was raised with manners and a sense of decorum. When it came time for him to join our daughter at a formal occasion, he couldn't afford to buy a suit, but he had a pair of dress pants and he bought a dark shirt and tie to make it as formal as he could. The point is that he TRIED.

Many of you out there (if anyone reads this) will think that I am a stick-in-the-mud. "Oh come on, it doesn't matter what people wear". Yes it does. It doesn't take money to take off your hat indoors. Or to say excuse me. Or to leave the sweatsuit at home if you can afford a meal that will cost you over $100 for two.

Frankly, I'm tired of rude people who haven't learned right from wrong. How about using some common sense and having respect for others?

IHOP, P.F. Chang's and the good ole U.S. of A.

Clearly, I am on a food kick this weekend. Myron and I are off to San Diego in a couple of weeks to meet up with our California friends for a week of more exploring. We are also going to visit Myron's former mentor and partner and his wife in San Luis Obispo.

My husband loves the U.S. and is not among the holier-than-thou Canadians who rant and rave about our neighbours to the south. But I digress.

Myron's passion for the U.S. is fuelled by two things. IHOP and P. F. Chang's. You can't imagine his joy at finding both of these places in one day. Dare I say that when we are planning a trip south of the border, he actually seeks both of these establishments on the net before we head out? Myron stumbled upon P.F. Chang's on a business trip to Los Angeles and was hooked. And now, of course, so am I. P.F. Chang's China Bistro is exactly what it sounds like. A Chinese eatery, that's gone uptown. The food is always good and the service is superb. It also helps that the P.F. Chang's in Michigan is attached to perhaps the most beautiful shopping mall in the state.

International House of Pancakes. IHOP. Myron's four favourite letters in the alphabet. My husband is generous to a fault but he loves a bargain. We don't have IHOP in Canada and so if there's one near where we are in the States, we're there for breakfast. It has always been a good deal, but once Myron turned 55, (and I am also past that milestone now) IHOP became even more attractive. We qualify for The Senior's Special. It's a really great deal. A stack of three for $2.99. IHOP is now a "POI" (Point of Interest) on our GPS. How sad are we?

The staff are efficient and down-home welcoming. In Michigan, we frequent one particular IHOP and Myron is convinced that in order to work there, you need to have at least one front tooth missing. Just adds to the charm of the place. Honest.

God bless the U.S. of A. We love it!!

While I'm on a roll.....

.....I thought perhaps you'd like to see what my mother and I accomplished one afternoon. Only two are shown, because it's either gluttonous or unfair to show you more.

My mom and I have had some lovely times making these delectable, dainty, dumplings. She's not able to make them all by herself anymore, and so I am learning the art of making "varenyky", or as most of you call them, "perohy" or "perogies".

The process starts the day before when I peel, boil and mash the potatoes. To them, I add fried onions. Lots of fried onions. Then, I take about a teaspoon of the mixture and form them into little balls and they are refrigerated until the next day, when the production line starts. Mom comes over and I park her at the kitchen counter while I proceed to make the dough. Mom used to make hers in her Cuisinart, but I prefer the old fashioned way....by hand. Can you believe it? I find it incredibly therapeutic to get my hands into the flour and to knead it until it transforms from a sticky, gummy mess into a soft, elastic, smooth round ball just waiting to be rolled out and cut. When the dough is rolled out (great workout for the biceps!), I cut them with my mom's old tin drinking cup, that is EXACTLY the right size and has been moved from their home of 40 years, to their condo, to my home.

Mom is the assembler of varenyky. She is riddled with arthritis in her hands, but still manages to expertly pinch the dumplings in no time flat.

Once they are done, I par-boil them and then they are cooled before being frozen. Our Girl took home 5 dozen with her to Ottawa last week and I hear they are almost gone. Sounds like a good reason to make more and take some to her!

What's important about this blog, isn't the varenyky, but about passing of traditions and recipes that will disappear if I don't get on this. It's about sharing time with mom and letting her know that someday, when she is gone, I will continue her recipes and her knowledge. And I will pass them on to Our Girl.

St. Lawrence Market

It's Saturday and it's cold and damp and generally, an ugly day. Myron and I headed down to the St. Lawrence Market to see if we could find some inspiration for tonight's dinner.

We are so lucky (see previous post!) to live in a city, in a country where food is so abundant. We walked up and down each aisle (mostly because Myron is a bit OCD when it comes to stuff like that) and took in all the sites and smells that the Market has to offer. The meat, the fish, the produce, the cheese!! Don't, I repeat, don't go there when you are hungry. Bad idea. You'll buy everything in site and probably eat a lot of it on the way home. You can find every cut of meat you want. Want ostrich? They've got it. Bison? Check. Camel steak? Yup. I kid you not.

We decided on lamb as I had a recipe for Lamb Korma with Cucumber Raita in one of my crockpot cookbooks. I'm in a crockpot mood lately and that is a sure sign of fall/winter comfort food. Tomorrow is Honey Hoisin Chicken.

We got all of our meat and poultry and then headed downstairs for the spices and rice. Who knew that there are so many types of rice? We decided on the "aged" basmati and it was incredibly flavourful.

On our way out, hunger won out and we bought a plate of ocean smelts and fries. It's something we've wanted to try (the smelts) and now we've done it. Didn't like it enough to do it again.

St. Lawrence Market is a gem in our city that I don't use often enough. That is going to change.

Giving thanks

This weekend is a time to reflect on those things we are thankful for. There's the obvious, of course.....for our families and for the blessings we all enjoy. Regardless of your religious or non-religious beliefs, "thanks" is a prayer in itself. If we all took the time to say "thank you" for what we have in our lives, we would be much better people.

It is purely by chance that we were born in Canada. How fortunate we are not to have been brought into a country where war and famine is not an everyday occurance. I'm not saying that there aren't hardships in this country, but it is nothing compared to what people endure in other parts of the world.

We have a young man in our parish who is leaving in November for Uganda, on a 13 month mission. He will try to help the people in his selected village learn how to live in a democratic society, after years of civil war and atrocities unimaginable to any of us. This amazing young man gave a talk on what he saw and what he learned on his orientation visit to Uganda. There were many times, where he had to stop to compose himself as he relayed stories about his visits with children who were kidnapped and turned into soldiers against their will. Of women who were repeatedly raped and beaten. Of men who had their hands cut off because they stole bread for their families. And yet, these people are hopeful. His mission is to help them find their way in this new life and to hopefully, cope with the demons that will surely haunt them forever.

This weekend, think of someone less fortunate than you. Give to a charity. Fill up that paper bag with canned goods and take it to a firehall. Help an elderly neighbour rake their leaves. Simply SMILE at someone. Being kind costs nothing, but the rewards you will reap are immeasurable.

Enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner with loved ones this weekend. Just make sure that you pay it forward.