Pumpkin Lovin’

I promised you something tasty to eat the other day, but instead one of my favourite felines got very sick and had to be rushed off to the animal hospital. Luckily, he is now slowly on the mend and I had the chance to take note of what I have managed to eat and sip on lately.

Pick a pumpkin,  breakfast is up – come get it!

Pumpkin Breakfast Pudding

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How d’ya like them apples?

This year I took fruit picking to the next level – well, for a Northern girl that is. Growing up I longed for sweet Canadian peaches, pears and apples. But, the growing season in my neck of the woods wasn’t conducive to that kind of fare. Funny thing about living in the Bay is that we had more ready access to B.C. fruit than the significantly closer Southern Ontario counterparts.

Growing up I can’t remember much of any apples to speak of – crabapples grow at my mother’s childhood home, and that was as close as we got. We were always throwing together some kind of jelly admits snacking and throwing the cores at each other for fun. Crababbles weren’t quite as inspiring in the kitchen as they seem to be these days.

Now, this year I got organized. Peaches and Apples were finally within my grasp! Not to mention the purple mulberries that I nonchalantly picked off neighbourhood trees throughout the city.

First I was treated to sweet, freestone peaches from a family friend’s Christmas Tree farm that just happened to be adorned with a handful of trees. And now, apples! Let’s take a bite out of life, shall we?

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Hidden Rose Apple

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Ida Red Apple

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Here for a good time… not a long time!

**Disclaimer** This post was meant to be out in early June – funny how springing  forward brings me to the beginning of August

Lately, I’ve been pondering the flexibility of eatin’ in season – does the far-reaching California or Florida avocado really line up with the gospel of the widely admired Michael Pollan? The temporal nature of vegetables, fruits and relationships all seem to be trumping any thoughts of summer shenanigans.  With a thoughtless neighbour dismembering my rhubarb plant and my hometown of Thunder Bay pounded with snowstorm after snowstorm, I have resorted to farmer’s markets and the local grocery store for my rhubarb fix. This year’s spring with its irksome constitution and wily ways has me feeling a bit discombobulated, a feeling I can’t seem to shake even now in August. Every which way I turn (Toronto, Montreal, NYC, Muskokas) I managed to get soaked, nearly blown away on the streets or alternatively frozen to the bone in some instances. Spring has a funny way of reminding us that even if for only a moment, everything will change.

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