"Why I'm Cooking So Good?"...

I've learned a few things about myself lately...

Cooking relaxes me,

Cooking de-stresses me,

Cooking bring me so much joy.

(which also, brings my family so much joy as well!)

I'm a pretty passionate person and I also enjoy passionate people.

I've enjoyed learning how to cook Italian food and many other foods from different cultures, via many passionate cooks on Foodtube and Youtube in general. I love it! I love everything about it - especially when it comes to tasting the results. 

If I can do it, anyone can.

Happy cooking!

My favourite cook? Gennaro Contaldo. I never thought that I could ever make risotto and Gennaro (Jamie Oliver's teacher) inspired me to give it a try. 

Mushroom risotto is now a family favourite.

The one when Jamie Oliver's son takes a tinkle..

in the middle of the cooking video... 

(btw, happy 5th baby Jamie & family. Bravo!)

p.s. "Why I'm cooking so good?!" That's a line from Gennaro. It's also a new family tradition now.

Eye Candy

I have a thang for candy. Not just any kind of candy. Unique candy.

Carthage, Illinois seemed to have a thing for Lemon drops. 

I like them!

Also, as you know, I have a thang for lemons.

Check it out... #AnotherLemonSong

Polski

These are *not* doughnut holes. Not even close! Read on!

People used to ask me if "Daisy" was my nickname. Nope. That's my true blue, through and through bona fide birth-given name. My Mum's highschool friend was named Daisy and she looooooved her friend's name and wanted this name for me. 

I've had few nicknames throughout my life but a good friend, who wanted to highlight my Polish heritage, would call me "Polski".

"Polski" made sense.

My last name (at the time) was Podeszwa (pronounced POh-dEz-wAh in English. pronounced POh-dEsh-vAh in Polish). 

I loved my last name. It took me awhile to love it. Growing up, on the first day of school, I would sit with my head down on my desk, filled with anxiety, while the teacher went down the class list:

Sarah Adams? "here!"....Karen Brown? "here!" Jason MacDonald? "here!"....Daisy Po...Po...Po-desk...Po-zed...Po-zzzzwah (in my younger years, roars of laughter would erupt from the class depending on the phoenetic acrobatics that would come out of the teacher's jumbled mouth) "PODESZWA!" I would call to help out. The teacher would stick to "Daisy" and quickly move on.

Growing up I was told that "Podeszwa" meant "heel of the shoe". Our close teenage friends would bug us saying that's why my brother's and my teenage feet stunk so bad. Hahahaha! Good times!

I wasn't sure if the translation to English of Podeszwa was really true, so, I just googled "Podeszwa" to see what I would find. I cried from laughing SO hard! In "google images", there's a seemingly endless supply of pictures of the bottom of shoes or heels of fancy shoes/boots. So. Many. Different. Kinds. Of. Shoes. Once again, I literally "LOL"! Try it! What images come up for your last name?

I have SO many pictures of my brothers and I working in a garden & Dad's stories of his trips to Poland, 
visiting all the farms, that this picture perfectly defines being Polish to me.
Here are the Podeszwa kids, with Dad Podeszwa, soles of our feet covered in a garden, working. 
I bet my younger brother "watered" the plants after this pic!

I also found an "English translation" on the net for "Podeszwa". Here it is: 

sole {noun} [sports]
So there were no longer shoe makers, but now there are people slapping soles on people's shoes.
sole (of the foot and of shoe) {noun}

So there you go! "Podeszwa" is the "Smith" of Poland! Funny short story: my brother married a Smith. Yup! True short story!

On Feb.12th, 2015, I popped onto Facebook. Two interesting things happened:

1. A friend of mine, who served her Mormon mission in Poland, began posting "Fat Thursday" (in Polish, Tłusty Czwartek) pictures. She smothered her Facebook page full of Pączki (Polish pastries, very much like doughnuts) pictures. My mouth was certainly watering by now and with every picture, this treat was looking very familiar. I thought I never tried this treat before but my watering mouth told me that this treat was familiar.

2. My brother's Mother-in-law, yup, the "Smith", posted a website to my brother with a photo of my Dad's older brother's gravestone on it. My brother has been gathering his family history and his Mother-in-law found the gravestone, of my Uncle that died as an infant, online. Weird! How could it be "Fat Thursday" and my Uncle's discovery day in one? I was particularly excited because I had just recently gathered information about my Uncle Charles from my Dad. I could confirm the identity of this grave stone because I had just written down my Uncle Charles' birth & death years and the cemetery that he was buried in. Everything on the site was correct. 

I then shared with my bro's Mother-in-law the story behind that stone. You see, my Dad had recently replaced his older brother's stone. I thought he replaced it because it was worn down. My Dad is 75, so that would make his brother 77. I called my Dad again and my Dad shared that he replaced the stone because "Podeszwa" was not spelled correctly (no surprise there!). Also, My Uncle's first name, Charles, was not included on the stone. My Dad did this for his older brother, the brother he had not even met. This story had always touched me. After hearing about it again recently, I was even more determined to get back to my home-town, in London, ON, to see my Uncle's new stone but here I was seeing it for the first time on the internet. A stranger had taken a picture of it and uploaded it online for this exact purpose. So that people looking for their lost loved ones, can find them online. I told my Dad that the stone for his brother was now online. I wasn't sure what he would think of that. He simply said that it was amazing. Just amazing. At the time that my Dad put this stone together, I was busy with little ones and did not have time to support him in this worthy cause. His efforts seemed to go unnoticed and unheralded. That bothered him. In fact, he wanted to be there when that stone was laid but the nuns at the cemetery had neglected to notify him of the stone's replacement. This never sat well with him but all seemed to wash away when his efforts were validated by a volunteer who took time to take that picture, upload it online and now his son, who lives on the other side of the country, and his daughter, have viewed the stone.

Many of you know that I lost my fourth baby, Isoefa Alofa. It has been six years since we lost him and I have not yet had the heart to put his stone together and placed at his grave site. I felt like the time was getting closer and this would probably be the year. When I saw my Uncle Charles' stone, I knew for sure this would be the year. I want my baby's stone to reflect my Uncle Charles' stone. I'm ready and I now look forward to this special moment. 

Through my baby's loss and the loss of my Uncle Charles, I feel closer to my Nana, my Dad's Mother. She died when I was little but I remember her very well. I feel her loss. I feel for her loss and now I feel that much closer to her.

I Love this picture of my Nana. She looks SO Polish to me.
The dress, the hat, her strong body.
Nice legs Nana!

So, when I jumped on twitter later in the day and saw this tweet from one of my favourite local European bakeries, Nougat Bakery,

Nougat Bakery @Nougat_Bakery · Feb 12

Paczki - all day long #FatThursday #delicious

 

View more photos and videos

0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

I couldn't take it any more! I called the bakery, made sure they still had Paczki (they did!), and then called my husband to pick them up on his way home from work.

My husband arrived soon after and our family sat around the table learning about Paczki (pronounced pawnch-ki). This Polish delicacy is traditionally served on Fat Thursday, the last Thursday before the Catholic Ash Wednesday, where Lent begins along with the ban of lard, sugar, eggs and fruit, until Easter. These beautifully simple ingredients are used up together to create this brilliant fruit-filled bun. I must learn how to make them. I carry all these ingredients in my home. All-the-time. Why wouldn't I? I'm Polish!

Paczki!

We tried 3 different kinds of Paczki; Rose (rose-hip jam.lovely!), Raspberry and Advocat (like a boston cream but better).

The table favourite? Without a doubt, it was the raspberry. Each Paczki was beautiful and delicious and would win my dessert heart. However, the raspberry seemed to burst in our mouths with depths of flavour that perfectly complimented the fluffy pastry. It made us all wish there was more raspberry!

Raspberry Paczki.
Heaven!

For me personally, it was a rich taste of something familiar. I think my Dad has bought a cheaper version in the past or I had them as a young child with my staunchly Catholic Nana. Either way, the taste was a taste of home and on Fat Thursday, I felt closer to my Nana and my Uncle Charles. It was a special day and I thank my friend for honouring her time in Poland by posting those pictures and I thank my adopted Mother-in-law for finding Uncle Charles on Fat Thursday. It truly was a Fat Thursday - fat with the spirit of loved ones and cultural heritage. 

My Valentines Day is dedicated to my Nana Podeszwa, 

who suffered the loss of a child, 

on her own, in a strange new country where she began building 

her new home and future. My Valentines Day is also dedicated to my Uncle Charles, who I know enjoys eternal glory 

with his humble Mother and Father. 

Much Love,

your little,

Polski

 

Food Interlude I - Lemons

Tipolo (pronounced tea-poh-loh) = Lemons

My Mum always made the best lemonade. If she was to share her perfect recipe with you, she could not give you any definite measurements. It's the Samoan way. "About this many lemons, about this much sugar and put some water in it. There. What's your problem?" Mine never turns out. It's either too sweet, too sour or too much water and Mum knows just what's missing from my Lemonade and how to fix it. Somehow, she has passed this gift onto my oldest son. He now makes the best lemonade in our house. He could probably give you some exact measurements so that you could replicate it but he refuses to. He wants to be the "special lemonade chef" in our home. Fine then. Make me some lemonade!

It took me until now to figure out why lemons made a regular appearance in my home growing up. My Mum had several lemon trees on her plantation! Can you imagine having lemon trees in your backyard? I was raised in Canada. I couldn't imagine it. During my youth, I spent some time in New Zealand visiting family. They had a lemon tree in their backyard. When I was making a cheesecake and needed a little lemon juice, my Mum said, "just go get the fresh lemon from the tree!" *Duh!* It was a new and exciting thing for me to pick the beautiful lemon and taste the fresh juice. It added the perfect brightness to compliment the rich and creamy cream cheese.

I asked my Mum what she used lemons for in Samoa. Her first response was "lemon water". Did you add sugar? "Oh yes!" So, you made lemonade. "Yes! We drank it a lot." Anything else Mum? "Our hair." Why? "It made our hair soft but it took a long time to comb out the pulp." (google: "lemons for hair" and you'll find some juicy hair tips!) When you see and feel Samoan women's hair, you'll understand why they were trying to soften their hair. Their hair is naturally coarse and the girls usually had A LOT of it! Come back here in a couple of weeks (I need to find the pic at Mum's house)and I'll post a picture of my Mom with her gorgeous, long, Island hair. Her hair was magical! She looked so different when it was up vs. when it was down. I've always wished to have long hair like my Mums but mine just would not grow as long.

I have vivid memories growing up, of my Mum washing her hair with lemons. It made her SO happy! She would tell me she's going to wash her hair with lemons with the same excitement a child exhibits when they tell you that they're going to buy their favourite candy at the store. Then, Mum would spend quite a while in that bathroom and come out smiling, laughing and happy as a little girl on Christmas morning. She smelled fresh and lemony. Probably a little over the top for a cool Canadian day but it made her happy, so, I would just smile and give the thumbs up. It all makes sense now. Lemons probably brought the sunshine of Samoa back to my Mum.

They now make me feel very happy and warm too. I even like to just have them around on the table or counter top in a lovely bowl. Simple. Lemon. Joy.

What else did you use lemons for Mum? "They would squeeze it on raw fish but I don't like the raw fish." We did squeeze its savoury juice over any fish Mum served though. Is it possible to eat fish without lemon juice? I think not! What my Mum also liked (when I was growing up) was making rice pudding and adding lemon zest to it. It always livened up our pudding with another layer of yummy, zesty, happy flavour.

Mum also made delicious lemon squares. I hate the store bought ones. They never do a lemon justice. I always thought lemon squares were hard to make. I finally made them from scratch recently and felt elated that they were SO easy to make and then that first bite of lemony goodness was dessert divinity. I found the recipe here: The Best Lemon Bars Recipe. Click. Cook. Indulge.

My kids cooked some up while I was writing this post. I helped very little. They turned out like glorious lemon cloud treats.

Do you have any other memories of lemons Mum? "No. What do you mean? Well, the lemon trees we had were VERY tall. We couldn't climb them. They had those - what do you call those prickly things on a rose bush?" Thorns? "Yes! They were covered in thorns. So my Dad made a long stick with a curve at the end that we could reach the lemons with. We had four or five trees. They grew all year round." All. Year. Round. Were lemons meant to bring us year round joy? I think so! Even my Dad got on the lemon boat every winter. Got a cold? Flu? Sore throat? Just sniffles? Lemon and honey. Lemon and honey and garlic. Drink it warm and drink lot of it. That same drink soothes me today even more than it did as a child.

Speaking of children, my kids joined me with a few fun lemon pics:

Today, lemons have a new association for me - besides all of the above food memories and stories. The word 'lemon' reminds me of the brilliant Canadian duet that is "Lennon and Maisy" (ages 14 & 9). Their natural, pure and perfect harmonies remind me of Samoans singing together with the same natural skill and a whole lot of heart. I'd like to dedicate this post and this song, to my husband, who turns 38 tomorrow. We've made a lot of Lemonade in life together and Babes, you're MY sweetheart.