Author Archives: TheSheepAreOut

About TheSheepAreOut

I'm a mom, an anthropologist and a food lover finding her way on a small farm on Vancouver Island.

A Tale of Two Parties: Our Island Party and the Food

Now that we set the stage with the amazing party in New West… no pressure, right? Oy… Now I have to begin with confessing that some how, and I’m not exactly sure what happened, but we ended up with next to no pictures from Dave’s graduation party at our house. I know… I don’t know what happened… I did, luckily, take pictures of the food (mostly) while I was preparing the dishes so at least that’s something. But seriously… no pictures? Ugh…

Here’s our happy graduate!

On the brighter side, let’s talk about food. Here’s the menu for Dave’s graduation party.

Dave’s Graduation Party Menu
Spiedies: Italian marinated pork or chicken that is skewered and grilled. Served on a bun with sauteed onions, mustard and mayonnaise.
White T-Shirt Shrimp: A Cajun spiced shrimp boil with beer and butter. Served with bread to dip.
Utica Pie: A deep dish tomato and parmesan “pie” with a Chicago-style crust.
Red, White and Blue Coleslaw: An homage to one of our favorite restaurants in Ithaca, NY, this is red cabbage, white cabbage and blue cheese slaw.
Half Moon Cookies: Made famous through Seinfeld, these Black and White cookies are claimed to have originated in Utica, NY, as Half Moons.

A fantastic blend of neighbors, family and friends. What an amazing blessing!

It’ll take me a few posts to get all of the recipes posted, but today we are going to start with the Spiedies and White T-Shirt Shrimp, the two recipes that I don’t have images for. This just means that you’ll have to try the recipes and send me pictures from your creations. 🙂 I’d love to see them!

Spiedies are a classic Binghamton, NY, dish. This is the perfect festival food from Binghamton, honored yearly by the Spiedie Fest. In fact, at my bachlorette party my fantastic ladies made a version to serve along with other bites of New York. I hope I did them all justice with this recipe. While the pork spiedie is the classic, we also offered a chicken version. They were both delicious, especially with a heap of sauteed onions.

Spiedies
Ingredients:
5 lbs. of pork loin or chicken, cubed
2 cups plus ¼ cup olive oil
½ cup cider vinegar
1 tbsp. smoked paprika
1 tbsp. dried oregano
1 tbsp. dried thyme
1 tbsp. dried basil
1 tbsp. dried rosemary
1 tbsp. garlic powder
4 large onions, peeled and thinly sliced
Salt and pepper

Directions:

Combine the meat with 2 cups of olive oil, the vinegar, and all the dried spices in a large, nonreactive bowl or resealable plastic bag. If using a plastic bag be sure to place it in a casserole dish or other walled dish or bowl in case of any leaks. Place the meat and marinade in the refrigerator and chill for several hours or overnight. In a pinch, 30 minutes will get you some flavor, but longer is better.
Meanwhile heat ¼ cup of olive oil in a large skillet over medium high heat and add the onions. Be prepared to cry a little… or a lot. Season with salt and pepper. Sauté the onions until they start to brown on the edges, then turn down the heat to medium and slowly cook them until they are soft and golden. Taste for seasoning and adjust if necessary. Put the onions into a serving bowl and set aside. If making the spiedies in advance you can refrigerate the onions for up to 2 days and then reheat them in the microwave before setting them out with the other condiments and buns.
When you are ready to grill the meat, prepare the skewers. Skewer the meat, leaving some space between the cubes to ensure even cooking. If using bamboo skewers be sure to soak them according to package directions in advance. Grill the skewers over high heat to get a char on your kebabs. Depending on the size of your cubes this can happen quickly, so watch them like a hawk. Test individual skewers to ensure for doneness.
Remove the meat from the skewers and place it in a serving bowl. Serve the grilled meat with torpedo buns, the delicious, golden onions, as well as mustard and mayonnaise. Enjoy!

Please click here for a printable version of the Spiedies recipe.

Our front yard was festooned with balloons… and then we spent the entire time on our fantastic new back deck. Ah well…

I cannot believe that I don’t have a single picture of the White T-Shirt Shrimp served at the party. Ugh! So you’ll just have to use your great imaginations to picture a vat of spicy sauce comprised predominately of butter and beer with succulent shrimp, served in bowls with crusty bread to soak up that delicious sauce. My mouth is already watering… The name for this dish comes from when Dave first tried it at a wonderful cabin (aka “camp”) up on Otter Lake. He was wearing a brand new, white t-shirt he’d received for his birthday. He took one bite of a shrimp, and watched the tail flip down in slow motion splattering his front with bright red, spicy butter sauce. Dave now recommends a bib when eating these shrimp, but I’d wear a trash bag if I had to just to get a bowl of that sauce with a hunk of bread. At the party we served the White T-Shirt Shrimp on a warming tray with a platter of warmed baguettes next to it to keep them both hot throughout the party.

White T-Shirt Shrimp
Ingredients:
4 bottles of beer
¾ cup Worcestershire sauce
½ cup Cajun spice
4 lemons, juiced
1 lb. butter
5 lbs. shrimp, shell on, uncooked

Directions:

Heat all of the ingredients except for the shrimp in a large pot. Bring the liquid to a simmer and cook for 2-3 minutes.
Add the shrimp and cook for 7-8 minutes or until the shrimp are pink and cooked through.
Serve with bowls and lots of crusty bread to soak up the amazing boil. Enjoy!

Please click here for a printable version of the White T-Shirt Shrimp recipe.

Stay tuned for more recipes… with pictures… from the party! 😉

A Tale of Two Parties: Celebrating a Graduation in Style

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Let me begin by stating how proud I am of my husband for completing his Ph.D. in Anthropology!!! Done baby, done!

Here comes Dr. David Hopwood.

Many of us are familiar with celebrating high school and university graduations, but when you start getting to the advanced degrees the line that marks when you are done can be tricky to find. Dave and I both earned our doctorates (how cool is that to say!) from Binghamton University, State University of New York. At Binghamton University the completion date of your doctoral degree is when you have a public presentation to “defend” your dissertation. This date can happen any time during the year, as long as you are done and your committee can attend. So not only does your degree often finish at a random point on the calendar, it is also a singular accomplishment… meaning that you are not completing with anyone else and certainly not with a class of hundreds of fellow students.

I remember leaving my defense feeling elated about having passed that hurdle, stepping outside of the Science 1 building and looking around to seeing life continuing for everyone else as if nothing had happened. The same students rushing to class already late, the same fervent clutching of coffee mugs, the same professors avoiding eye contact with students so no one asks them if the exams are graded yet… My entire universe had just changed, but the rest of the university trucked on as if nothing had happened. I wanted a parade. I wanted acrobats flipping down the pathways, people blowing fire from the library fountain, fireworks from the clock tower, and sparklers for every single person on campus. Alas, all I got was tepid coffee from an indifferent barista who was studying her note cards furiously behind the counter.

So when Dave was finishing his dissertation I started dreaming about how we’d celebrate his incredible accomplishment. Needless to say that I was dreaming big, and when the actual date came around I had to seriously scale myself back based on budget (sorry, no acrobats) and my available time (aka how to I pull off a great party with the time available to a stay-at-home mom with a young child… aka not a lot of “free” time). A number of my ideas had to fall by the wayside, but I think I was able to pull off my main goal of truly honoring all of Dave’s hard work.

Dave and three of The Ladies wearing the amazing construction paper grad caps. From left to right: Loree, Sue and Ruth.

I was not the only one wanting to celebrate Dave’s graduation, and the lucky boy was also honored with a party at his family’s home. The two parties were a week apart and were completely different from each other except for the fact that they were both filled with people who wanted to celebrate Dave. He’s going to be impossible to live with after receiving weeks of unbridled praise! 😉 Just kidding. He deserved every word and more… but I digress.

Hand poured chocolate graduation pops. Ruth made dark chocolate, milk chocolate, mint chocolate and white chocolate.

While all you see is the “jewel” topping, this was the most amazingly rich and moist berry cake I’ve ever had. The berries on top looked like a glittering tray of jewels. Stunning!

Special ordered celebratory pencils.

These diplomas were actually fun trivia questions about Dave and is degree. Winner gets a prize!

We had such a great time at both parties. Some of my favorite parts of Dave’s Family’s party were the special things they made by hand. They made amazing construction paper graduation caps for everyone to wear, hand decorated graduation cap cookies, and had two young women to play with the kids and do crafts downstairs allowing the parents to be adults upstairs. It was fantastic!

These cookies must have taken days!!! Each one was baked by Ruth and hand decorated by Erin. I think they should go into business with these.

The amazing spread at Dave’s New Westminster party. The wolves would fall on this table soon, so we had to take the picture fast.

We were also able to hold our own Hooding Ceremony. In a traditional doctoral graduation ceremony the graduate is “hooded” with the special colors of your degree by a mentor or advisor of your choice. This is a leveling of the playing field, and a very special moment of being brought into the professional field that you have worked so hard to attain. Since we couldn’t get out to New York for Dave’s graduation, we held our own hooding ceremony at his party and it was my honor to be able to hood Dave.

Done, Baby… Done!

A toast by Dave’s proud dad, Joe. This is where we all lost it.

I know that I’ve been teasing people with promising to post recipes from our Vancouver Island party on this blog, but I had to share the New West party first. Stay tuned and the next post will start the recipes, I promise. But first… Sometimes we get so wrapped up with our own ideas of what our graduations mean to us personally that we forget about all that our families and loved ones have invested in the graduation as well. This graduation for Dave coincided with his return to Canada as a university professor, a husband and a dad. A lot has changed since Dave first left for graduate school in New York. The party in New West was an amazing time to also honor Dave’s family and their own achievement in getting their son/brother graduated. Cheers to all you Hopwoods!

Grilled Salmon, Fresh Off the Line

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Until just a couple of days ago, the best salmon I have ever had was grilled up by Dave’s dad, Joe, at their cabin. I should say that pretty much whenever Joe is grilling salmon, that’s my favorite. It’s amazing. That was the truth until a couple days ago when Dave grilled up some Lemon Garlic Salmon. This fish was incredibly tender, almost creamy in texture, but not mushy. There wasn’t a hint of fishiness anywhere, and if you associate salmon with a fishy taste that probably means that you’ve been eating farm raised salmon. Yuck. Wild caught salmon from the Pacific Northwest has a fresh taste that has absolutely nothing in comparison to the muddy, fishy flavor of farm raised salmon.

The Lemon Garlic Salmon that Dave grilled up wasn’t just wild caught, it was caught by a cousin who just happened to be coming to our home for Dave’s graduation party (recipes from that party will be appearing next week). This wonderful cousin, of whom poets should sing, showed up at the party with a large, red cooler. He plunked it down in our kitchen and called Dave over. As he lifted the white plastic lid I think I heard angels singing, because inside were two enormous sides of the most beautiful pink salmon I’ve ever seen. I had learned early in our relationship that one of the benefits of marrying a west coast Canadian boy was that this got me into closer proximity to some of the best salmon in the world. I had no idea that this would also grant me family who showed up bearing gifts of fresh caught salmon.

We tightly wrapped and froze much of the salmon, but Dave saved out a large portion for the grill. Then he went into research mode, trying to figure out the flavor profile he wanted. In the end he chose a beautifully simple combination of lemon and garlic with just enough seasoning to highlight the amazing flavor of the salmon. Dave adapted this recipe from an Essence of Emeril recipe tweaking it a bit here and there. You could also use another firm fleshed fish like halibut or cod, but just be careful with the cooking time if you go for a smaller fish size. The perfect accompaniments for the Lemon Salmon are the Cabin Grilled Potatoes and a fresh green salad… especially if it is served with a glass of wine. In true style of not wanting to let anything go to waste, we toasted the salmon with glasses of sparkling wine leftover from the graduation party that had gone slightly flat. As luck would have it, the sparkling wine was so good that even the slightly flat version was still crisp with a slight effervescence that was amazing with the salmon. It was a perfect meal on the deck with my two amazing boys.

Note: When Garlic Turns Blue…

The salmon smelled fantastic. We brought the packet to the table and Dave did the big reveal, peeling the foil back, the delicious steam poured out revealing the perfectly cooked salmon layered with the beautiful golden lemons and studded with… cyanide blue garlic? What on earth had happened? Was the salmon safe to eat? And why on earth had turned the garlic turquoise blue? A bit of quick internet research later and I learned that it is an interesting, but non-toxic, effect that sometimes happens with young garlic, especially when it comes in contact with other acids like lemon, onion or wine, and low heat. So please enjoy the lovely turquoise hue of the garlic in our pictures and know that it tasted delicious. If you are curious about the glories of blue-green garlic, here’s a NY Times article on the subject.

Lemon Garlic Salmon
Ingredients:
1 side of salmon, skin on
2 tsp. salt
1 ½ tsp. white pepper
2 tsp. fresh rosemary, coarsely chopped
1 lemon, thinly sliced
1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
8 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup olive oil, divided

Directions:

Preheat your grill or oven to 450 degrees.
Rinse the salmon under cold running water and then pat dry.
Lay a long piece of foil down on the work surface. The foil should be twice the length of your salmon, or use two pieces to be sure to cover your salmon completely.
Butter the foil, leaving a couple inch border around the edges for sealing later on. Drizzle a little olive oil over the foil, and then lay the salmon onto the foil skin side down. Sprinkle with the salt and white pepper.
In a small bowl mix the minced garlic with a little olive oil and salt, smashing the garlic against the side of the bowl with a spoon to make it a loose paste. Smear the garlic paste all over the salmon, and sprinkle the fresh rosemary over top.
Layer the lemon slices over the salmon, covering as much of the surface as you can. Then sprinkle the onions over the lemon slices, and drizzle the entire packet with the remaining olive oil.
Fold the foil edges up to seal the salmon tightly on all sides in the packet. Place the foil packet on the grill and monitor it closely. The salmon should steam inside the packet, retaining all the amazing moisture and flavor of the lemon, garlic and onions.
Cook the salmon packet for 15-20 minutes, or until just cooked through but still moist. The cooking time will vary based on the thickness of your salmon, thinner pieces cooking faster than thicker ones.
Remove the packet to a serving plate and bring it to the table to serve from the foil. If your salmon had pin bones be careful to remove them carefully as you go, warning all diners that there could be pin bones in their portion. Enjoy!

Click here for a printable version of the Lemon Garlic Salmon recipe.

Cabin Grilled Potatoes
Ingredients:
6 medium red skinned potatoes
1 medium onion, halved
6 tbsp. butter
Salt and pepper

Directions:

Preheat your grill or oven to 450 degrees.
Thinly slice your potatoes and set them aside. Thinly slice your onions and set them aside.
Place a baking sheet on your work station and cover it with a sheet of aluminum foil that overlaps each side by an inch or two. Generously butter the foil, leaving a couple inches of border all around for when you close the packets.
Layer half of the potatoes across the foil, overlapping them slightly and leaving enough foil around the edges that the packet can be sealed for the grill or oven. Dot the potatoes with thin slices of half of the butter.
Layer half of the onions over top of the potatoes, and sprinkle the entire packet with salt and pepper.
Layer the remaining potatoes over the onions, and dot the potatoes with thin slices of the remaining butter.
Layer the remaining onions on top of the potatoes, and sprinkle the entire packet with salt and pepper.
Place a second piece of foil over top of the potatoes and onions, and fold the edges up to seal the packet on all sides.
Place the packet into your grill and cook for approximately 20 minutes. Monitor the heat during the cooking, adjusting as necessary. The sealed packet will steam the potatoes, but the heat should also create a golden crust on the bottom. Be careful that the bottom layer doesn’t “over caramelize” (aka burn).
Remove the packet to a serving plate and bring it to the table. Rip open the foil to let the aroma of browned buttery potatoes and onions float across the table. Serve family style. Enjoy!

Click here for a printable version of the Cabin Grilled Potatoes recipe.

Magic Garden Songs, First Strawberries and Kids in the Garden

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A week into our gardening season and I haven’t killed anything yet. Yet. I count that as a success.

As a professor that studies food politics and who has worked with community supported agricuture (CSAs in the States) and small farmers for years, it is funny to be on this end of the food production scale. This is the first place that we’ve lived where I have been able to have real garden space, not just containers. I am also, however, surrounded by gardens tended by expert gardeners who have been at it for years. I am relying heavily on their knowledge, picking their brains about everything from how to prune tomato plants to the best time to water plants and which plants grow better in compost versus manure-based soils.

I also find myself comparing my funky garden to their amazing plots. Due to the construction of our garden space, I didn’t get my seeds planted until a bit late in the season, and most were seeds sown into the ground rather than seedlings. So my neighbors have a few weeks of a head start on me, and their gardens look like magic. They look like a sort of Magician’s Apprentice version of gardening. These staid Canadians must go out to their gardens in the cool morning mist, and sing a song conjuring their plants to rise as they slowly lift their arms. Green shoots obligingly spring from the earth at their command, quickly growing into full fledged fruiting plants. Or so it seems.

I find myself greedily staring at the dark brown soil every morning, looking for new green shoots that will hopefully provide my table with gorgeous (or at least delicious) veges in the not too distant future. Little Man’s favorite thing to do in the evenings before dinner is to go to the green house and play with the strawberries. He moves from plant to plant, carefully holding each berry in his little hand before moving on to the next.

The other day the first strawberry was finally ripe, and I plucked it from the plant to share it with him. I took a bite of one of the warmest, sweetest strawberries I’ve ever had and held the other half out to Little Man to sample. I thought this would be a wonderful moment, sharing with him the first fruit of the season. He, on the other hand, looked at me in horror that I would eat one of his small red toys that just happened to be growing on a plant in the greenhouse. At that moment I thought of all the blogs, web pages, farmers market people, etc. who talk about how meaningful it can be for little kids to grow their own food, how for many kids this helps them start eating more vegetables, and how angels sing whenever a young child helps tend a garden. Apparently we are going to need a bit more help in this area…

Eating Culture: The Anthropology of Food

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It’s official, I will be teaching Eating Culture: The Anthropology of Food at the University of Victoria this Fall (2014) semester! I am completely excited to be getting my toes back into university teaching, and it doesn’t suck that the course I will be teaching is one of my favorites. Please share the news with anyone you know that attends the university, and feel free to share information about the class. If anyone has any questions about the course, please just send me a comment to this post.

Here is the basic course information:

ANTH 393:A02
Eating Culture: The Anthropology of Food
Dr. Marie Hopwood
Course Description:
What does it mean to “eat” culture? And what is “food” anyway? Through this course students will explore the cultural creation of food, specifically how food is used to create and maintain identity; be this ethnic, national, religious, or gendered. Issues of food production, including the effects of industrialization and McDonaldization on workers, consumers, and the food itself, will be discussed. Course topics will be drawn from examples around the globe, as well as from our own cultural milieu. Students will use the skills gained over the course of the semester to formulate a research paper that will be presented in a class-based anthropology of food “conference.” The topic of research is open for students to be inspired by the broad range of topics available.

Baklava Cake: How to Use Leftover Phyllo

Adventures in Gardening: AKA Pig Manure and June Bugs

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I’m back from my forced technology hiatus! I’ve missed sharing things on the blog and am glad to be up and running again. Let’s just sum up my recent silence with the worlds “mother board” and “fried.” Enough said.

In the meantime, the most exciting thing going on here is that we FINALLY have our garden started. This is my first ever “real” garden, and I’ve had to hold myself back so that I don’t try everything at once. It was hard to practice restraint since I’ve never had this chance before, but I have to remind myself that I’ll have another chance next year. So I’ve tried to give myself the permission to experiment, to learn at the trowel’s edge (that’s for my archaeo friends), and to try things that may not turn out as I’d hoped. Chalk it up to trial, error and then more error. Since the garden bed wasn’t completed until this last weekend, and since most of my planting was from seed, it will still be awhile before we see any fruits of our labors. We’ll see what happens…

Our farmer landlords have been working hard to prepare what was our backyard for a massive gardening space. Where once was a sketchy storage shack now stands the beginning of a greenhouse. The rest of the space has been scraped of turf, massive piles of black gold (aka pig manure-compost) roto-tilled in, and multiple garden beds laid out.

Glorious pig manure compost getting raked and leveled into a garden plot.

The rest of our day was spent raking and leveling our square garden bed, then shaping it into the quadrants we would plant. There is nothing like being coated with pig manure dust and being attacked by the cock roach like June bugs of the island. Much squealing and dancing occurred to the intense delight of Little Man. In opposition to what my brother suggested, I am very glad that he hasn’t been trained to video me in embarrassing moments. Once the bugs were removed from the back of my neck, my hair and my t-shirt, we were able to get back to the garden. The plot is over 20 square feet, so I’ve just now gone from a sometimes successful container gardener to a plot gardener with enough seed and good intentions to cause a lot of trouble. It’s hard to imagine what the flat garden plot will look like once the seeds have sprouted, forget about what it will look like with full fledged plants.

Dave leveling our plot with the in-process greenhouse behind him.

I divided our plot into quadrants with a small hill for squash in the center. I had a few seedlings for kale, basil, celery and nasturtiums. Other seeds planted around our plot include lots of greens (kales and chard), scarlet runner beans, carrots, radishes, bush beans and beets. That’s not to mention all of the amazing plants that our farmer landlords have planted in such abundance that they’ve offered us carte blanche to the fruits of their labors in exchange for help maintaining the plants in the many garden plots.

Little Man helps out by picking up rocks and transporting them with the blue bucket to Daisy the tractor. According to Little Man, Daisy likes rocks better than stones for lunch.

Now we’re into dirt watching mode, and trying to find the perfect location and angle for our mobile sprinklers so that we water the garden without wasting too much water as we head into what could be a long, hot, dry summer. I’ll keep you up to date with garden happenings, and if anyone has any recipes or ideas for things to preserve garden produce I’d love to see them! 🙂

Our mostly planted garden plot. Bamboo bean teepees will be set up in the back right quadrant, but for now this is a good start.

And spoiler alert, we have a big party coming up to celebrate Dave’s recent doctoral graduation. Keep your eyes peeled for some great recipes from the party!

The center squash hill planted with Little Man’s sprouted pumpkin seeds from an Easter festival in Nanaimo. We’ve also planted zuchinni on the north side and sunburst squash on the south. A bit of squash overkill? We’ll see…

The celery square with nasturtiums planted at the point. Radishes and carrots will round out this area once they sprout.

The Long May Weekend – A Year Later

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To be honest, I don’t know a lot about Queen Victoria whom the long May weekend commemorates. We still feel repercussions from the Victorian era, such as white wedding gowns and a penchant for prudery. The Queen also plays a memorable role in “The Pirates! Band Of Misfits” in which she wields a mean scimitar. I hadn’t even been aware that she had her own day in Canada until last year when I flew out to Vancouver Island on the long weekend to look for a place for our family. I had only this one weekend and some substantial internet house browsing in which to find the home we would move to in a few short months.

Such began an epic weekend of rental house hunting with my mother-in-law, Ruth, and my sister-in-law, Erin. We would learn quickly that house hunting online is much like online dating… Everyone lies. The pictures are all glamor shots from years if not decades earlier, the houses all looked much cleaner online, and in the case of a couple of our visits the picture can’t quite convey the… shall we say scent… of the actual building.

We called ourselves Little Man’s Angels, an all woman team who were finally answerable to my toddler son. Even though he was back in the States during our adventure, Little Man became our litmus test for whether or not a property was even worth considering. Unfortunately most of the places that we visited were not viable. In fact, right after visiting one more decrepit, dirty property in a long line of decrepit, dirty properties with questionable potential for child safety I was starting to wonder if I was being too picky. I must have mumbled something positive about the house when Ruth looked me in the eye and stated that while Dave and I were welcome to live in that house, her grandson would certainly not. I almost cried from relief.

The houses we toured in the greater Nanaimo area over the course of the weekend were memorable. One was so small that it should have housed dolls, not real people. Another reeked of stale tobacco and we later learned a man had been violently killed on a nearby street a few months earlier. Another had a blind driveway that led onto a busy street, not to mention a pile of human feces on the back porch. Another had strange fabric draped from the ceiling, holes punched in the walls, and boasted that it came with an outdoor plastic play house… mind you the playhouse had been used as a chicken coop for three years, but that’s nothing that a little spray bleach can’t take care of right? Right… The one thing that all of the properties shared was that online they looked and sounded amazing. I started to panic about our prospects.

Then we saw the property on the farm and I think I heard angels sing as a single ray of sun broke through the clouds and lit the house. The building itself is nice, but the biggest draw was the farm itself and the surrounding landscape. The idea of Little Man’s first long term memories being shaped here feeding chickens, petting horses, being chased by sheep… The three of us looked at each other and had to resist the urge to rush into a jumping group hug.

Later we would begin the pattern that would haunt us for the rest of the move. Just as things would start to look up, something would come crashing down. No sooner had we called to secure our rental of the farm house then the great situation fell apart almost instantly. We almost lost the house when its occupants at the time lost the home they were bidding on, and in fact it was only a few weeks before the actual move to Canada that we learned we’d be able to move in. Other things would happen as well, but for the purposes of this post, it wasn’t until when Dave and his dad pulled up to the house with the moving van filled with all of our belongings and pulling our car with the cats that I truly let myself believe that things would work out.

The farm house is not perfect, but it has turned out to be a great decision. Almost a year later Little Man still asks to go back to our blue house in Iowa, but I don’t think he misses the house as much as he does the proximity to his favorite zoo and his child care provider. We’re making friends, we live in a beautiful place, and are finding favorite places that we like to go back to over and over again.

Now that we are at this Long May Weekend one year later the main thing that keeps coming to mind is gratitude. I’m grateful for the hilarious memories from our house hunt. Grateful that Ruth and Erin were able to take the time (and insanity) of that visit with me. Grateful that we live on such a beautiful island; in such a great home; close to the sheep, pigs, Little Man’s Ladies (aka the chickens), and horses; in a place full of potential for more fantastic adventures and memories.

With the thought of gratitude in mind, I planned a simple meal for the barbeque. My goal was for something that wouldn’t take much time, leaving more time to be with Dave and LIttle Man, but also something full of flavor that Little Man would devour without us having to focus on getting him to eat his dinner. Thankfully I was successful. Little Man gobbled everything up and we were all able to have a nice family dinner full of laughs and stories. It was a perfect commemoration of the House Hunt Long Weekend. I hope that one or more of these recipes can give you a similar experience with your family or friends.

Menu: Mumbai Grilled Drumsticks, Mustard Seed Rice, Simple Grilled Zucchini and Mushrooms, and Mango Lassi.

Mumbai Grilled Drumsticks
Ingredients:
2 tbsp. Tandoori paste
¼ cup plain, fat free yogurt
3-4 garlic cloves, finely grated
2 inch fresh ginger, finely grated
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
1 tbsp. canola oil
10 chicken drumsticks

Directions:

Combine all of the ingredients except for the chicken in a large bowl.
The marinade ingredients.

The marinade ingredients combined.
Add the drumsticks to the bowl and toss until they are evenly coated. Use your hands here to really spread the marinade over the chicken. Cover and refrigerate the chicken for at least 30 minutes or overnight.
Tossing the chicken in the marinade is best done with your hands. It’s a bit messy, but roll up your sleeves and dive on in.
Preheat your grill or grill pan over medium/medium high heat. The marinade is predominately yogurt based, so you may need to grease your grill to make sure the chicken doesn’t stick. Grill the chicken over medium heat for approximately 45 minutes or until the chicken reaches an internal temperature of 165 degrees. Serve and enjoy!

Click here for a printable version of the recipe for Mumbai Grilled Drumsticks.

Mustard Seed Rice
Ingredients:
1 tbsp. brown mustard seeds
1 tbsp. canola oil
1 ½ cups white basmati rice
3 cups hot water
Salt and pepper

Directions:

Gently heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat and add the mustard seeds. Cover the pan when the seeds start to pop, and shake it periodically to keep the seeds moving. Be careful not to burn them. When the seeds stop popping, about 30 seconds, add the rice and stir to combine. Stir the rice every now and then to let it just start to brown. This should take just a couple of minutes.
Sizzling the mustard seeds in the oil. When they start popping, cover the pan to prevent a mess on your stove.

Popping mustard seeds.

Sauteing the basmati rice with the mustard seeds and oil.

Browning the rice.
Carefully add the hot water to the pan. The pan is already hot so it will sputter and steam when you add the water.
Bring the water to a boil, reduce the heat to simmer and cover the pan. Simmer the rice for 15 minutes, and then remove it from the heat. Let the rice sit with the lid on for 5 minutes. Remove the lid and fluff the rice with a fork. Spoon the rice into a serving bowl and enjoy.

Click here for a printable version of the recipe for Mustard Seed Rice.

Simple Grilled Zucchini and Mushrooms
Ingredients:
1 medium zucchini, cut into 1 ½ inch thick half moons
5 cremini mushrooms, cut into pieces roughly the same size as the zucchini
1-2 tbsp. olive oil
3-4 garlic cloves
Salt and Pepper
Directions:

This recipe is more a method than anything else. Use whatever vegetables that you have at hand. I chose zucchini and mushroom because they taste great with a bit of the grill’s smokiness.
Combine all of the ingredients in a large bowl and toss until the vegetables are evenly coated.
Skewer all of the zucchini on one or two metal skewers, leaving a little bit of room between the pieces so they can cook evenly. Set these aside on a baking sheet. Do the same with the mushrooms. Set them aside with the zucchini and drizzle any remaining marinade over them all. Let them sit for 15-20 minutes.
Grill over medium to medium high heat until the vegetables start to char and are cooked through.
Remove the vegetables from the skewers, being careful of the hot metal. Toss the vegetables together in a bowl and serve. Enjoy!

Click here for a printable version of the recipe for Simple Grilled Vegetables.

Mango Lassi
Ingredients:
2 cups plain, fat free yogurt
2 cups frozen mango pieces
1 cup milk
1 tbsp. honey

Directions:

Combine all ingredients in a blender and process until smooth.
Taste to see if it needs more mango or honey. Adjust seasoning, blend again, and serve. Enjoy!

Click to get a printable recipe for Mango Lassi.

Our Victoria Day bbq dinner: Mumbai Grilled Drumsticks, Mustard Seed Rice and Simple Grilled Zucchini and Mushrooms. Little Man already made off with his Mango Lassi, so it wasn’t available for a glamor shot.

A Jaunt Between Countries: More Adventures in Immigration

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This last week was more adventure in immigration, and it involved a relatively short speed walk between countries. This jaunt is called “doing a flag pole” by immigration officials on both sides of the border and is now another thing to add to my list of accomplishments. Please forgive the lack of images with this post, since they tend to frown upon camera usage at the border.

The back story is that I needed to get a work permit for an upcoming job that I’ll post about later this week. So stay tuned for that. 🙂 Now back to our story… For some reason that must have made sense at some point to someone, to get a work visa one must first walk from Canada to the States, “do the flag pole,” walk back to Canada, and apply for the permit. Other than ensuring that a person has the stamina to travel by foot from one country to the next, or to reinforce your complete powerlessness as an immigrant and the need to dance like a monkey on command, I’m truly not sure why this was required. But this is our saga of the flagpole…

It began with an early morning ferry ride to the mainland where the three of us were gratefully met my Dave’s mom, our fellow adventurer for the day. Then we drove to the border. This was the closest I’ve been to my home country in almost a year, and even though I wasn’t actually going to enter the States, it was fun to get close to it again. As we got closer I also started to get a bit nervous about how this was all going to play out. When one’s immigration status is in question it can be a bit nerve wracking to leave one country for the next for fear of not being allowed back in. So I took a deep breath, clutched my passport a little bit tighter, and prepared to dance. That’s when things got interesting.

Most visitors at the border are simply trying to get from one side to the other. They’re not trying to find a place to park in order to ask how one legally walks across international boundaries. Needless to say we missed the tiny sign showing us where to park and ended up stuck in about 20 minutes of stopped traffic on the way to the States. At this point we realized that we were about a block away from the actual border and that there was no where to go but forward, meaning that we were driving into the States. This is also the time when we realize that the only person in the car with a passport is me, and Little Man has no documentation at all. Nervous laughter ripples through the car. We luckily spotted a “hail Mary” turnaround spot for people like us that just happen to make a wrong turn that could lead them to a different country.

Now we were pointed back towards Canada, figured we had at least one satellite watching our car for the lovely u-turn maneuver, and had the pleasure of sitting in another 20 minutes of stopped traffic to get back to the Canadian border. At the border station we were “greeted” by the surliest Canadian any of us (the Canadians included) have ever encountered, and told that I have to go back the way I’ve come, but that there are no side walks so I need to be careful of the cars. Great… So now I need to “do the flagpole” and avoid being run over by someone desperate to get to Trader Joe’s and who sees me as literally standing between themselves and their $2 Chuck.

So off I go, traipsing between cars with a backpack full of documents while my family plays in the park behind me. I try to avoid eye contact with any of the drivers, only thinking what a strange sight I must make walking down the street to the border, and feeling rather pilgrim-like. Nothing like a 10 minute speed walk while inhaling the exhaust of countless cars to make one feel ready for the task at hand.

Once at the U.S. border office I asked a border agent about which line I should be in since I’m not actually trying to enter the country, but just need a work permit. He said that for “a flag pole” I needed the back line. The back line was a row of bench seating along the wall that looked like it hadn’t moved in about an hour. I got in line, and eventually realized that I’m not in line at all, but am sitting with other people from other lines that simply got tired and needed a seat. Once I realized my error and got into my line, I was second in line and was eventually asked to hand over my passport and take a seat. Fifteen minutes later I was given my passport back with a stamp and told to walk back to Canada. Apparently my “flag pole” did not involve an actual flag pole, and I have to say I’m a bit disappointed in that.

However, not one to question border agents who are letting you go, I left the building and started to walk around it the other way to continue my circuit back to Canada. Who else can get lost trying to walk back to Canada? Is it possible to miss an entire country? I ended up in the loading dock and had to turn around. A passing border agent looked at me, shook his head, and pointed the other way back to Canada. Perhaps if you can’t even figure out the direction to walk back to Canada, the States isn’t particularly sad to see you go.

Off I went again, this time swimming up current from the cars and on the side to Canada actually finding a sidewalk. How civilized. I should also point out that I hadn’t noticed the slight decline for my walk to the States, but the walk back to Canada was up hill all the way. That’s when I started feeling all the sore muscles from the different yoga warrior positions, and the dolphins… those darn dolphins…

In about the same 10 minutes it took me to walk to the States, I walked back to Canada and was greeted again on the Canadian side by the same surly border agent as before. This time he asked me more surly questions, scribbled something on a yellow ticket, told me to walk to the tree, turn left, enter the building and go to the second line. While I may not have circled a flag pole in the States, I did circle a maple tree in Canada. That somehow felt right.

It was on the Canadian side where things got interesting again. They didn’t want to give me the permit since it was something I could get from an office on the island, even though there were no immigration offices on the island hence our ferry trip to the mainland, and I was missing some information they needed. Specifically they needed the start and ending dates for my employment since the permit would only be good for that one job with that one employer. The dates weren’t listed on my offer letter and I hadn’t come prepared to call the anthropology department, so I looked briefly at the offer letter’s letterhead and asked the border agent if I could call the office to get the dates. I was given permission and dialed the number hoping the department secretary was not at lunch. The person who answered the phone was not the department secretary, but instead the Department Chair who also just happened to be a former mentor of mine. This is exactly the impression you want to give your future employer before you even start your job, that you are having immigration issues, and you need them to do write a memo and fax it to the border asap (please), and I look forward to seeing you again in the Fall. Ugh.

The second issue that the border agent had with me was that she wanted to see my credentials that allowed me to do this job. For this I was prepared. I reached into my backpack, grasped the tome that is my dissertation and laid it down on the counter with a satisfying and resounding thunk. Yes, it would have been easier to bring my diploma, but that is packed in on of the 20 boxes labeled “Office” while the dissertation was nicely displayed on my bookcase. This is the most work my dissertation has had in years, being carted around from one country the next, and then placed with a pleasingly heavy thump on the border agent’s desk as evidence of my credentials. Nerdishly satisfying.

In the end the fax came through, the dissertation was accepted, and the permit was awarded. Little Man was given a paper Canadian flag, and off we went again with no sidewalks or crosswalks, trying to reach our car on the Canadian side so we could go home, dodging drivers anxious to leave the States with their Trader Joe’s bounty.

Later when we had reached Ruth and Joe’s home, had gotten Little Man down for a nap, and were all happily ensconced in the kitchen holding glasses of crimson refreshment, we regaled Joe with our adventures. I had successfully power walked between countries, did “the flagpole” and am now one step closer to an upcoming job. Just one more political hoop to jump through, but that’s an adventure for next week. In the meantime, we’re enjoying the success of this initial foray, and hoping that I don’t have to do that particular immigration hoop again. Please!

A Week on Our Own: The End

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I am so glad to have gotten to the end of this week! It was a great week all together, full of fantastic accomplishments, reuniting with good friends, and some awesome Mommy/Toddler time. It was, however, also a long week of single parenthood (Much love to all the single parents out there! You’re amazing and don’t ever forget it!), a week of feeling like I should be somewhere else, and a lot of laundry… a lot of laundry.

Day 6 for Dave was spent jaunting from one airport to the next, each one a bit more disappointing than the last. For Little Man and I the morning was spent at the Hazelwood Herb Farm in Cedar, and then a lot of cleaning… a lot of cleaning.

The Herb Farm was by far the bright spot for both of our day, and it’s finally convinced me that I’m trying to rush Spring along a bit too quickly for Vancouver Island. The minute the temperatures got into the high teens in Celsius (that’s 60s… I think… in Fahrenheit…) I feel like I should be out in the garden planting something. Except that it’s still pretty cold at night, and the ground is still pretty cold, and nothing that I want to plant (peppers, basil, etc.) is ready for that type of temperature. This became very clear to me at the herb farm where they sell the types of plants that currently do good at this time of year. Little Man and I came away with some great herbs (oregano, thyme, chives, and sage), as well as celery. I’ve never tried celery in my garden (or container box) before, but I thought that it might look like a great dinosaur forest for Little Man. So like for most things, including parenting and gardening, I’m learning that a little patience goes a long way. But right about now, I’m really impatient for Dave to be home!!!

Day 7: Homecoming!!!

Dave finally made it home this morning. Little Man has been counting the number of breakfasts he had to get through before Daddy would be home, so this one he ate with relish and was constantly glancing at the door expecting Daddy to come waltzing in the minute his food was finished. Not quite… But after breakfast and the crazy dance of getting myself and my toddler ready for public appearances, we finally got the long awaited text that the ferry was pulling in, and then we were off to the car.

It’s always good that I give a buffer zone of time just for the process of getting the few meters (Canada-speak there… Did you catch it?) from our front door to our car. This time it was the two farm dogs that caught Little Man’s fancy, but then he had to go say “hi” to his lady friends, the chickens. At that point the little bitty “not dog,” as the farmer calls him, was running with him, Little Man took the opportunity to make a mad dash across the farm towards the sheep pen and his favorite hill at the back of the property. Eventually the dogs and the toddler were corralled and we got to the ferry terminal just before Dave made it out of the building.

The rest of the day was a blur of Daddy and Little Man cuddles, nap time for all, and much playing. You could almost hear the “reunited and it feels so good” chorus as the two of them raced around the yard, Little Man “cutting the grass” with his toy lawnmower and chasing his dad. I have a feeling that the upcoming week will be one of recovering from exhaustion and gearing up for more dissertation deadlines, but at least we’re all together and now there are two of us to clean up toddler messes. And there’s the awesome sign, too.

Checking the fluids to ensure the mower runs smoothly.

Lots of toddler cackling here…

The Sheep Are Out…

I'm a mom, an anthropologist, and a food lover finding her way on a small farm on Vancouver Island

Author Archives: TheSheepAreOut

About TheSheepAreOut

A Tale of Two Parties: Our Island Party and the Food

A Tale of Two Parties: Celebrating a Graduation in Style

Grilled Salmon, Fresh Off the Line

Magic Garden Songs, First Strawberries and Kids in the Garden

Eating Culture: The Anthropology of Food

Baklava Cake: How to Use Leftover Phyllo

Adventures in Gardening: AKA Pig Manure and June Bugs

The Long May Weekend – A Year Later

A Jaunt Between Countries: More Adventures in Immigration

A Week on Our Own: The End

About TheSheepAreOut

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