I sure do know some pretty fantastic people. I’m particularly fond of those who bring me food.
Last night the doorbell rang late – my friend Natasha bringing bunches of beets and chard just pulled from the ground at her brother’s farm. This afternoon the doorbell rang between stressful phone calls – I didn’t want to answer but was glad I did – it was Aviv, bringing me a brown-paper wrapped grainy, seedy sunflower loaf (still warm) and a jar of equally grainy apricot-beer mustard, just because he heard I was having a bad month. (I suppose there were some tense moments before the Tofino part.) I ate half of it with butter and black currant jam and called it lunch, and ate another slab with dinner – a pan of roasted chick peas and chard (done on the stovetop so as to not unnecessarily heat up the house) with a bit of lamb rogan josh I pulled from the freezer.
And oh yes – as I passed two-thirds of the loaf sitting beside the flat of BC peaches I picked up at the market yesterday I was reminded of a story my Mom told me last week: that her mom and aunt used to eat thick wedges of juicy Ontario peaches straight-up on buttered bread. Who needs all the sugar and cooking when you’re just going for the pure sweetness of a perfect peach?
Bonus: the bread sops up those juices that might otherwise trickle down your chin.
PS: Aviv sells his bread at the Hillhurst-Sunnyside Market on Wednesdays.
One Year Ago: Barbecue Shrimp and Guacamole