February is the worst month of the year – no offense to those born in it or fans of V-Day. It’s the month when winter seems to be dragging on for all of eternity, which is kind of ironic since it is also the shortest month of the year. On top of the usual issues I have with February, this one is particularly dreadful and anxiety-inducing. By now, we should have been packing away our lives here in the Mid-Atlantic for relocation to either the North East or entirely out of the country, but we haven’t solidified any plans yet!
When I was growing up in Jamaica, we would have this dish called “stew peas”, which is a very traditional dish made with red kidney beans, meat and “spinners”, which are oblong flour dumplings. It’s definitely a staple in the Jamaican diet, and my kind of comfort food. Last week I decided to make the Brazilian version of this dish, called feijoada. Instead of kidney beans, black beans are used, along with several types of pork and/or beef. It reminded me of my childhood when dinner would be cooking on the stove all afternoon long and sending mouthwatering smells wafting through the whole house, but with a wonderful foreign twist that I’d never had before. I made a big pot of the feijoada and we had it again and again all week long, along with orange slices, collard greens, and cashew coconut rice. At the end of the week my brother-in-law came to visit and had some of the last of it and raved about how delicious it was. We […]
Life is all about simple pleasures and small moments. If you can cherish these, chances are you will be able to live a rich and fulfilling life, no matter the setting. When I was a little girl, my mom would make me cinnamon toast, which involved toast, creamy butter, brown sugar, and a sprinkling of cinnamon. She was generous with the butter, which melted in thick patches into the warm toast. Such simple ingredients, yet such pleasurable results – it was the perfect combination of flavours and mouthfeel, and always the perfect treat. Sometimes, my sister and I would roll the toast into a tight cylinder and eat it like a churro, and then the dish was transformed into what we called “rolly bread”. I haven’t had rolly bread or even cinnamon toast since I became an adult. Sometimes we forget the simplicity of our childhood pleasures as we trudge through the mundaneness of our daily routines, or seek ever more exhilarating thrills which come so cheap and abundantly in […]