The Hungry Squid

Wheat or corn flour? Large or small? Eaten with delicacy or devoured with alarming voraciousness? Who knows. What I do know, is that they are surprisingly simple to make and create much less of a mess than you would imagine handmade flatbreads would. The first time I had truly homemade corn tortillas, small-batch, from pan to belly in under 10 min, was at J and S’ place in Halifax. They are master chefs, balancing being very cool humans (and very chill parents) with being very savvy chefs. That evening, J made the tortillas as a base for pulled chicken in a mole sauce, alongside copious amounts of other decadent things and bottles of excellent wine. Needless to say, you never leave their house hungry, and you never drive. Ever. Fast forwarding 3 years, to my little house in Winnipeg, and I have made it a goal to stretch my culinary boundaries, which includes experimenting with basic starches (which I had shied away from before because come on, really? Sou

Some people say that cupcakes are passé. These people are wrong. Cupcakes have never felt more of-the-moment. At a time when we are all cooped up at home, worried about a litany of things big and small, small pearls of sinful indulgence are just what we need to make it through another day in the Q-zone.  The beauty, and tragedy, of cupcakes is in their fleeting nature - the first bite is surprising, sweet, a light crunch; the second reveals a softer interior, perhaps a better balance of icing and cake; the third an evolving marriage of flavours that build on the textures of the first two bites and sets the stage for the 2, 3, 4 mouthfuls to follow. Divine. But then, just as soon it started, the experience ends, and you are left with sticky fingers, a useless piece of paper... and a memory. But most importantly, cupcakes are dope. Just, wash your hands before eating them. Black bottom cupcakes + buttercream frosting Shamelessly adapted from  here  and  here  

We're busy people. Between work, school, travel, the dog, housework, and the million of other things that eat away at those shriking minutes in the day, we've barely had the chance to breathe this past year. Sadly, busy-ness translated into the temporary exit of the culinary Squid. After all, what's a ceph to do if there's no time to cook pork chops , lemon rice, or even fish tacos ? She fries up some noodles, of course. M and I fall back onto this old favorite on nights when cooking is the last thing that we want to do. We had our first transcendent experience sampling this dish after biking 20 km in the Indonesian heat and winding up in a dusty little town, where a kind lady fed us a heap of savoury, saucy noodles with perfectly fried eggs and fresh, hot sambal. Since that transformative meal (and the dozens of other near-perfect versions of the same that we had through the rest of our trip), packages of Indonesian-style instant noodles have been a

Thinking back on the last 7 months with the Wallander,  I'm always struck by just how much being dog owners has changed our lives. Morning routines, evening activities, even work hours (to some extent) are shifted to include the little furball, all modifications made willingly, with much love. Wally has transformed the way in which we live our Atlantic lives, in the best possible way. We are not crazy-obsessive dog parents; however, one thing that we are particularly careful about is what we feed the monster. There is so much variability in the nutritional value of puppy food available, which can make finding an affordable, high-quality brand a challenge.   The same issue exists for treats, and the brands that sell the good stuff charge premium for their products.  So, when my mom sent me this recipe for home made dog biscuits I jumped at the chance to give them a try. Wickedly easy, this recipe yields enough biscuits to last over a month, even when rewarded ge

Thanksgiving this year came at the perfect time. After a crazy summer and a lightning-fast September, it was lovely to have the chance to rest and to spend a few lazy days enjoying the Haligonian sunshine. I was fortunate enough to be invited to three Thanksgiving dinners this year, and spent much of the long weekend in the company of friends, new and old. One of the things that I love most about Thanksgiving is the culture and spirit of sharing, the knowledge that everyone at the table has contributed in some small way, material or otherwise, to the meal. Our contribution to the third and final dinner was a French apple tart, elegant in its buttery simplicity. The puff pastry (truly wonderful stuff) flakily supports sweet layers of thinly sliced early fall apple, glazed over with salted caramel; served with Madagascar bourbon vanilla ice cream, is as decadent as it is demure. The perfect finish to a rich turkey meal, and a last hurrah to the vestiges of an east cost India