The sky is a brilliant blue today, the leaves bright in the sunshine. These last mild days are so precious as we head into the darker part of the year.
nasturtiums still bright in my back garden
I travelled from Berlin to London on the train ten days ago. It involved a change of train in Cologne and another in Brussels onto the Eurostar, and yet it felt simple and easy. The avoidance of airports and airplanes was a joy and a luxury, as I watched the countryside speed past.
Belgian farm country northwest of Brussels en route to the Chunnel
The day before I was due to fly home to Toronto from London I fell ill with a heavy cold. I was lucky to be staying with a generous tolerant friend, where I could be cosy in my room with a stack of tissues and a good book.
the last touch of sunset as we flew northwest out of Heathrow
The unlucky people were those sitting near me in the plane. I was a nightmare neighbour. I had intermittent violent coughing and sneezing, so a mask was impossible. I tried to shelter my neighbours and take myself out of play by hiding under a large shawl, draping it over myself completely. It’s one of my essential travel tools. I had a window seat (better for stretching my legs) and managed to stay put for the whole flight, not eating, and drinking only water. My neighbours could hear the unlovely sound effects from under my black shroud as I coughed and spat into a tissue, but they were spared the sight of me and my expectorations. I read a bit and I watched two classic films: Belle du Jour and La Nuit Americaine (Air Canada has a brilliant selection of vintage classics in their offerings; highly recommended). The films were wonderful distractions, stylish reminders of another era.
Lily’s stand at Trinity Bellwoods on Tuesday, the last market there until next May; and Soznicki’s last tomatoes and a delicata set out at Wychwood Farmers Market on Saturday; next week Wychwood moves inside
I’ve returned to beautiful weather, still-vibrant fall colours, and the last week of outdoor farmers markets. I’ve also returned in time to mark the painful anniversaries of last autumn.
On October 26 last year Dom and I had a conversation with Tashi about eventualities as we sat around together at home. We talked about the trust we had in each other. Dom and I promised Tashi that we’d keep him at home as long as we could, and that if he had to go into hospital we’d always be there.
Our timing was lucky. For around noon the next day, October 27, Tashi had a violent seizure that took him and us to the ER. From then on, for nearly three weeks, the hospital was our whole life.
Dom and I talked a long time on the phone on Tuesday, remembering the feel of that day, its calm soft beginning as Tashi and I ate breakfast together before Dom came downstairs and joined us. I remember so clearly the feel of Tashi as I helped him move from his bed to his armchair before breakfast. It was the last time I held him to me standing up. I’m weeping as I write this; I weep every time I think of it.
And now here we are, a year later, heading toward the anniversary of his death on November 14. His friends and mine, our large chosen family, are in touch, all of us feeling the echoes of last year in our various ways. We are so fortunate to have company and intimacy in this grief.
I remember how solitary I felt when my brother died when he was 20 and I was 22. His death was sudden (from exposure in a sailing accident). There was no in-gathering of people, no coming together of community. I think many people were so shocked and appalled that they didn’t know what to say.
My mother kept her deep pain to herself, buried it stoically. She and I moved forward on parallel tracks, without knitting together or sharing our hurt. I’m not expressing this very clearly, but I am so very aware of the difference. And I’m deeply grateful for the connected Tashi community we have, where we can tell stories and laugh and feel at ease as we feel intensely.
painting by Firenze Lai, part of her solo show that I saw at White Cube Mason’s Yard in London last week
FOOD EXPLORATIONS, with maitake mushroom, lamb chops, leftover rice, and more
By the time I got home from the airport last Friday it was nearly 10 pm. There were some large fresh green beans in the fridge. It felt good to try cooking for myself. I simmered a handful of them in salted water, then chopped them and mixed them with pieces of smoked lake trout to make a simple arrival treat. My partner Paul made a fresh tender leaf lettuce salad to go with.
grean beans and smoked trout: the white onion pieces were a nice idea, but in fact too strong, so I picked them out with my chopsticks as I ate
My jetlag plus my brain-stupefying cold mean that I feel clumsy and slow in the kitchen, not just that first evening, but also as I’ve cooked in the last few days.… It’s astonishing that just one month away, plus jetlag, can strip me of immediate reflexes.
On Tuesday night, with a PEN Canada event to get to, I needed to bestir myself early to get supper on the table. We had a stem of brussels sprouts, two tiny lamb chops from Andreas of Buschbeck Farm in Grey County, and a clump of maitake mushrooms from Wychwood farmers market. And there was leftover brown jasmine rice.
I sliced a red onion finely and chopped some ginger. I cut some of the brussels sprouts off their stem and sliced them, cut the lamb off the bone and sliced it, and heated my large cast-iron skillet. A generous dollop of olive oil went in, then once it was hot, some mustard seed, nigella seed, and whole cumin, followed by most of the sliced onion and the ginger. If I’d had a chile I’d have tossed that in too. Once the onion had softened, in went the sliced sprouts plus a splash of fish sauce and a sprinkle of salt. After stirring the sprouts in the flavoured oil I added a little water to speed up the cooking, Once most of the water had evaporated minutes later, the little slices of lamb (and their lovely fat) went in, and the bones. I stirred things together, covered the pan, and moved it to low heat on a back burner to simmer gently.
lamb and brussels sprouts simmering
Meantime I rinsed the clump of maitake lightly with water and then chopped it up into slices and crumbs. The big wok went over high heat on my large front burner. I added olive oil and moments later, when it was hot, in went the rest of the sliced onion. A few stirs and then I added the handfuls of chopped maitake. They needed a brisk stir-fry over high heat to start, then a good dollop of hot water to help them cook and release their flavour. Once they had softened, I added leftover brown jasmine rice, about the same volume as the maitake, and some dashes of fish sauce, then stir-fried them all together. Next time I’d add butter to the mushrooms before adding the rice, just to enrich them a little more.
A few minutes before the rice was ready I tossed a handful of late cherry tomatoes, some green still, into the lamb and brussels sprouts, for a hit of tart acid intensity.
I turned the rice out onto a large wooden plate, added some chopped coriander leaf, and squeezed on some lemon juice. The lamb and brussels sprouts with their sprinkling of cherry tomatoes went into a shallow bowl. And there was supper, all done.
my plate: the maitake-fried rice combo is on the right
On the weekend I had supper with friends that they’d cooked over a fire pit. It’s such a pleasure. You can place a rack over the fire, then use a cast iron skillet or other heavy skillet/pot to cook meat or vegetables or a mix… Here’s a shot of chicken thighs and of lamb, cooking over wood on Sunday evening.
EXTRAS
I saw a show in London, at the large White Cube Gallery in Bermondsey, a gathering of works by Gabriel Orozco. He’s all about connection, which can seem whimsical but is also deeply serious. He plays with whatever he comes across and transforms it, from a Citroen car ro cigarette butts. The show made me feel optimistic about our capacity for change and transformation, and for interaction and connection.
works by Orozco: a Japanese buddha set by an old piece of squared timber; a branch decorated with discarded cigarette butts
Welcome home x it was lovely to see you. I'm sending you lots of love
Much love from me too. These anniversaries are damn hard BUT I'm so happy to hear that you're surrounded with loving support from Tashi's friends.