An American Shopping for Stuffing, and other Sad News

It is very sad to shop for stuffing in Canada, especially almost two months after Canadians celebrated Thanksgiving.

I needed the very large bag of Pepperidge Farm seasoned cubes. My father's chestnut stuffing recipe is specific on what kind of bread shall be used.  Yes, I could make some sort of stale bread substitute, but it is taking a risk with a sacred recipe.

Off I went to Loblaw's.  The big one, this time, not the little one - the one that is most like Wegman's.  And I asked multiple salespeople for help. And still did not get everything on my list. The bonus for you American shoppers? Absolutely no crowds. The downside? No sales, and nothing was easy to find.

There was stuffing at Loblaw's, if you think Stovetop Stuffing would work for Thanksgiving. 'No!' I scoffed, 'There has to be something better.' I went to a specialty store looking for a candy thermometer for this recipe and stuffing, and we came home with 3 different kinds of mixes to look at and evaluate for comparison purposes. Perhaps one will live up to the expectations.

Don't get me started on asking people if they have peeled chestnuts. They do, they just don't know where they are. I did, however, find that chestnut puree is a popular item here. Hmm.  In case you need to make chestnut stuffing, the recipe follows, with more fun notes.

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We are thankful but sad here right now. After Thanksgiving, we'll head to Charleston to celebrate the life of my Aunt.  To put her in perspective, I've called her Craze my whole life, she taught me to sew, I played dog in her kitchen, and she would listen with love to anything I told her. I loved this woman.  I am thankful she is not in pain, and thankful I saw her before she passed, but so sad that she is gone. We laughed with her right until the end.

E was sad tonight, too.  A few weeks ago, she told me that she got homesick sometimes and she cried at night.  I didn't know that - I had seen her cry maybe 3-4 times since we moved - but tonight I caught her in her room. She was looking at some pictures of her old school and was so heartsick about not being there, and about being left behind.

While I am sad that she is upset, and I am, so very, very sad, I am at the same time so incredibly thankful for the time we had at this school.  Her teachers and the entire staff were loving and amazing people that fed her with confidence and happiness every day.  I don't think she or S would have been able to handle our move with as much poise as they did without the love and care that they received there.  There were such lessons in community and friendship and goodness and empowerment.  To think of the emotional mom-guilt coaster I was on when I was working and leaving them! Now I would leave them there overnight if I could!  E would stay with them, because that is how much she trusted them, and loved them, and felt good about being there, safe in her world, to learn and grow.  S is the same way. He walks into his nursery classroom confident that he will be treated with respect and caring, since that is the way he has been treated since he was 15 months.

When you make decisions, you don't know how they will work out.  I was a planner, and this sometimes terrifies me, but I seem, maybe, to be getting better about moving with the flow of my life.  Reflecting on the past few years, I find that things sometimes fit in ways beyond what I would have thought. (Duh?) I read today this quote, and it seems to apply, "We'd all like a guarantee before making a decision or taking a risk, but the irony is that taking the risk is what opens us to our fate." Mark Nepo

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Dad's Chestnut Stuffing

1 c. boiled, peeled chestnuts. If you are smart, you will buy the kind already prepared. If not, google how to do this in the oven.
1/4 c butter
1/4 c onion, finely chopped (mom pre-chops this because she likes it more finely chopped than dad)
1/2 c celery (this too)
2 tsps salt
pepper
3 c bread cubes (see note above)
2/3 cup hot water
1 1/2 tsps. dried sage (we buy a new one every Thanksgiving)

In butter, saute onion and celery for 10 min.  Combine with hot water, sage, salt, pepper and bread cubes.  Add chestnuts and toss lightly.  Stuff in cavity of turkey. Extra can go in a casserole on the side and get baked. Don't overcook that, add broth if it gets too dry.  Cook. Eat. Delicious.

We often double or triple this recipe, and Dad is often making this in his PJ's, with coffee next to him, with J holding the freezing cold, slippery turkey. Dad barks out orders. "Hold it that way. Turn it this way." This is a manly project in our house.

Remembrance Day: November 11

My Dad enlisted in the Air Force during the Vietnam War. He was stationed for a year in Thailand.  

I grew up learning that my Grandma, his mom, was the first female Marine in Wisconsin.  She told stories about working at the Pentagon to my Dad.

Right now, in Canada, everyone is wearing poppies to commemorate Remembrance Day, which is tomorrow.  Commonwealth countries celebrate it on the day of the signing of the Armistice, 11/11/1918.   America celebrates Veterans Day* tomorrow.

I am not wearing a poppy.  While I will adopt most Canadian traditions, this one feels like one I can't assume authentically.  I am not Canadian, and my armed forces are American. (Though in researching this blog, I found that Americans wore poppies as well after WWI.)  It makes me a bit sad that we see red poppies everywhere in Canada, a decidedly non-military country, and not something similar in the U.S., where we are so very proud of our military folks.  I would need to wear an American flag pin, like an American politician, and that just isn't going to happen here.  Why don't we have a visible symbol to remember our Veterans?  

Our world is getting more complicated.  One of my former colleague's husbands is in Afghanistan. One of my friend's husbands was in Afghanistan. Both are civilians - one former military, one foreign service. But still in a country with combat.  Among my military friends,  one has relocated with her family to Europe for several years, and still another spends several months away from her husband while he is deployed.  Are you a veteran if you fly drones from a bunker in Colorado? What about if you are a civilian in a war zone? What about if you are a police officer fighting terrorism? (not to be too homeland security about it)

I don't have answers, but tomorrow at 11 a.m. our family will stop, and watch the news, and stand silently, and talk about what it means to remember those who fight to protect us and keep us safe, like Paul and Papa.  And we'll thank them and be proud of them.  

"in Flanders fields" by Canadian John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

*The U.S. Government has decided that no apostrophe is grammatically correct in the spelling of this holiday.    

I'm a FSOL (french-as-second-language) parent

I began writing this post in my head as I was making pimento cheese for dinner, reflecting on my day as a parent volunteer in E's class.  As I've written about before, she's in French Immersion, and I have zero French. Zero.

We have parent conferences next week (they are called something different here, but you get the idea), and they are held universally throughout the city on a weekday evening and a weekday morning.  I received a letter from the Principal telling me there were 6 windows I could sign up for, and then I suspect the secretary will schedule them, since there are also slots for if you have other children at the school. So your conferences will be coordinated centrally.


Obviously, this was a completely new concept for me.  It still boggles my mind, that the school district is telling teachers and parents that meetings should take place at these times. No matter where you are in Toronto.

Then I got to thinking about other differences between FCPS and TDSB.  E doesn't have a homework calendar, like my friends with kids in FCPS schools. She doesn't even have homework. She gets a library book once in awhile. It's in French. I suppose if I were a *good* mother I would "work" with her on math or reading or something like that, but we color and play games and read books at night, and sometimes she gets out books she wants to read.  I keep telling myself it will come. She really likes Super Mario Brothers Wii and playing with friends. (Her friend issue has been resolved successfully, btw. Thanks for all of the suggestions.)

Then I started thinking, 'how would I even help with her homework? Google translator? I totally don't know French. Her teacher talks to me in French, I stare back at her with this stupid look on my face.*  Then she repeats it in English.  Sometimes I get what she is saying in French, but most of the time the kids understand more than me. And then it hits me. All those exercises we do with ESOL teachers, to gain empathy for parents who don't speak English?  I totally AM that parent now, albeit voluntarily.'  I would not know how to help E with her homework. She would be totally on her own. I would encourage good work habits, but if she didn't read the instructions or tried to tell me something was done, and I didn't try to translate it, I would believe her.

I think I am lucky I have a kinder teacher for E who is totally into the K experience, but I worry that I am missing out on something I should be doing, either in French or in English.  I imagine that is the concern of every parent, but particularly ones who don't speak the language their children are being taught.

Today, I am even more thankful for Christina Viscomi, Susan Amaral, classroom teachers with ESOL students and all of the other supporters of ESOL families.  What an awesome challenge and experience.



*Today I was asked, in front of the kids, if I knew the alphabet or how to count to 30 in French. Um, no.
Oops. Something to study before next week.

Your tax dollars at work

What Canada supports with tax dollars and what Americans are willing to support are two very different things.


Take public schools as an example.


There are 4 public school systems in the province of Ontario:  the French public system, the French Catholic system, the English public system and the English Catholic system.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Catholic schools are publicly funded in the province of Ontario.  I don't know why Catholic schools have been chosen as opposed to other religions, but my understanding is that it was a political decision in the 70s.  


The French system is different than the immersion program than E attends.  The French system is for Francophone parents, that is, for parents who speak French to their children at home.  And, we aren't Catholic.  (Sorry, Sylvia.)  The only system E and S are eligible for are the English public system.  


E attends a lovely French immersion program at a local elementary school. It is a half-day program (next year, all schools are scheduled to move to full day, but this transition has been problematic).  Her teacher is delightful and teaches now entirely in French, and the program is set up that she will not be instructed in English until grade 4.  Beginning in grade 4, she will receive an hour of instruction in English a day, and that will gradually increase until she is fully bilingual.  If we were scheduled to be here until she graduated from high school, her diploma would be be a bilingual diploma.  


It seems inconsistent to me, though, that they would publicly fund only Catholic schools yet include ALL holidays on their public school calendars. Shouldn't the Province then fund all religious schools? 

Maybe next year I can send E to the French Immersion Wiccan school. Or maybe I've just been watching too much True Blood.


P.S. I heart Eric Northman. And Blessings Be.

Halloween!

As I have frequently blogged, we are lucky to live on such a community-minded street.

We carved some pumpkins with friends earlier this week, allowing us a record number of 4 pumpkins carved in one year.  We are also lucky because Canadians get pretty excited about Halloween. 

Our previous tradition, and one that we were most sad to leave, was to go to our friends' street and eat dinner and trick or treat together.  

E's first Halloween on Cobb Hill Lane, as the butterfly.

Every year we would get excited, plan costumes and food with friends, and gather our kids and adult beverages and walk around the neighborhood. There were certain houses that were still too scary, but the kids had fun watching the adults go in and come running out.  

E had a few years as a bird, first as a chicken and then as a purple bird that I made. It shed everywhere but the costume was *awesome*

Ariel? She is the baby in pink crying on the far left hand side in the top picture. :)

S, the baby lobster. 

With the blue paci that probably has not been washed since that Halloween 3 years later.

We were really happy to get to see all of our neighbors and friends on our street tonight. It was a good night in Canada - it felt like home.  We saw friends from home, friends from school, and made sure we stopped at all of our favorite houses.  I was worried that this night would be a sad one, because even before we moved E and S were already asking if we could go back to Virginia for Halloween. And S only asked if we could stop by Garrett's house once. 

One of our Virginia friends sent us a picture of their gathering tonight, and we looked at our friends' costumes.  And I think we were a little sad not to be there.  But we were also glad that we have a community that is so vibrant and happy that the entire night felt like a party.  (We did go through about 400 pieces of candy. I'm not sending much in with J to work. It was a busy night.)

This is one of the weirdest things about moving. A night like this, that I was anticipating all year to be one of the more difficult nights, ended up being pretty ok. Maybe even pretty great. My kids are slow trick-or-treaters, but we ran into pretty much everybody and it was a fun night.  The days and nights that I think will be OK end up being the more challenging ones sometimes.  

I think this will begin the Christmas season up here. Remember, Canadians have already had their Thanksgiving (Oct. 9 weekend) so there is no Thanksgiving date to wait for, so I think lights may go up soon and things will begin to be festive.  There is no shortage of cold weather, that's for sure!

Our ladybug and green dragon with wings* wish you a Happy Halloween!

*Last year S was a green dragon, no wings. He wore this costume everywhere. Including when we arrived in Canada. Hello, border control officers. Yes, we have 2 adults, one child, and one small green dragon.  In fact, the title of this blog was going to be A Green Dragon in Customs, but I wasn't sure the dragon would last. I was wrong. 

Do you think they would allow a passport photo in a green dragon costume?

Strength: Tomato Pappu and Terry Fox

I have been pondering the idea of female strength lately. My own and my loved ones.  I have some fierce females around me, my friends.

My thoughts have been coming from a variety of places. It seems that a number of us have been having really tough years. People are sick. Jobs are lost or in trouble. Life is unfair or difficult. Evil is afoot. But even in the face of all this, we have earned promotions, gotten jobs, supported our families financially and emotionally, made choices that are the right ones for us, parented our children, others people's children, and supported each other - most of these at the same time.  We are wonderful friends to each other, particularly in times of need. 

Where does our strength for this come from? I am not exactly sure, but I know for me, community has helped me so very much. I am lucky to have friends that are willing to listen to me cry on skype when I was newly moved to Canada, J was in Switzerland, and I fell apart, which is still the lowest part of my time here.  I am also lucky to have new friends here, who have continued my Hyderabadi culinary education and who have introduced me to Terry Fox.

There is no greater inspiration in Canada than Terry Fox. And inspiration is strengthening to me.

Please take a few minutes and watch the clip if you are not familiar with him.

In September my sister Hil and I volunteered at the local Terry Fox run in Etobicoke, our area of Toronto. There are runs all over Canada, and all over the world*. Everything is donated and run in a very "mom-and-pop" fashion, so there are no corporate donors to give you t-shirts or a medal when you finish.  Most of the money raised during Terry's events is given directly to cancer research - an astonishingly high percentage.  The run is non-competitive and open for a few hours, so you begin when you want and finish during the open window.  Survivors, like Hil, get red t-shirts.  I realized then that Hil is still grappling with being a survivor. It is really hard to be 23 and be a cancer survivor.  It doesn't seem to go together.  As Terry knew.   

Some of you know I'm in South Carolina right now, with my Aunt who is ill with cancer. She is the Aunt who fed me popcorn for breakfast, and always made me laugh as a moody teenager, and offered me her home when I got married to J - we were married on the beach outside her home.  And now she is very, very sick.  Through this all, she continues to make me smile and laugh, and show that same kind of strong, Morrisey-woman streak the men who marry us bemoan.  It is such a honor to be a part of her female community, and my mom's, and my sister's, and my cousins', as we tend to her.  The care that her husband, her 83 year old husband is showing her, is one of the most beautiful loves I have ever seen. He sleeps on an air mattress next to her bed every night. He gets her food and drinks and her medicines. He tucks her in so gently and keeps her smiling through her questions.  

So, my strength comes from community, and family, and from myself.  I'm not sure I'm finished with this question, but it continues to interest me.  

Below, find N's recipe for Tomato Pappu, an easy peasy lentil dish. Because my community in Canada has been helping me continue my cooking lessons from FA.  YUM!

*Check out how to start your own run.

Tomato Pappu (Dhal)
Vijaya Niranjan
 

1 cup  red lentils (masoor dhal)
4 cups  water
5   plum tomatoes (canned tomatoes taste better)
3  green chillies, sliced
1  medium onion, chopped
2  garlic cloves, sliced
1 tsp thalimpu ginjalu
½ tsp paspu (turmeric powder)
1 tsp  salt
fresh coriander

Wash red lentils.  Add two cups of water, and cook on high in the microwave for 8 minutes.
Heat oil over medium heat in thick saucepan.  Add garlic and cook until lightly browned.  
Add thalimpu ginjalu, chillies and chopped onions.
When onions are lightly browned, add tomatoes and turmeric powder.  
Add lentils and mix well.
Add two cups of water, salt and coriander leaves. 
Cover and let simmer for 10 minutes.
Enjoy!

What we did our our summer vacation part 3: Ottawa

The capitol of another country is always a fun place to go.  In this case, it is adorable.  Washington D.C. is sprawling, spread out, and full of not-so-safe areas to travel.  Ottawa, on the other hand, is compact, walkable, and does not feel like a police state. Alas, I was not able to take my photo with a mountie. (Don't you think there should be a mountie in Red Serge at the capital?)

And you can still celebrate President Obama here. Because even Canadians love him. So of course we at where Obama ate and bought Obama cookies.

 The Parliament building.

These are locks. They connect the capital to Lake Ontario. I think. They are an engineering wonder. It takes 5 days to travel through all of the locks to the lake. Or 3 hours to drive it.

Doesn't this look like parts of the U.S. capitol complex?

One of the nights we were in Ottawa, we went to a light show. They actually use the Parliament building  as the backdrop for a light and sound show on the history of the country.  The entire field is filled with people watching the show, and they have interviewed famous Canadians about the history of the country.  One of the final questions was "Canada is the world's _____" Some said brain, some said other things, but the answer they used was Canada is the world's heart. And I wanted to stand up and say, yes! Yes, it is!  

When we went to the U2 concert, Bono remarked that Canadians certainly were an idealistic people, and  I think that is true.  Canadians embrace people other countries will not, like Cuba, or immigrants.  They aren't a perfect country, certainly, but I am enjoying learning about their culture. 

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In contrast, I was in Chicago and Michigan this weekend.  I was hit up constantly for money by homeless people, something that doesn't normally happen in Toronto.  And it was loud with sirens.  And I liked Chicago! I thought it was an alive, vibrant city. 

And really? Instead of building a fence between Canada and America? Just make people take the Ambassador Bridge. No one will want to enter America if that is how they have to enter. You can rest assured, security is tight. They were checking trunks on every other car. And then you enter Detroit. They should pipe in Eminem as you cross.  And the people in Michigan did not like my Ontario license plates. Or my Honda. 

It is hard not to draw comparisons between the U.S. and Canada, particularly when you travel back and forth between them often.  In Canada, I see a lot of common sense people who make sensible decisions and care for their citizens. What if we took all of the private money we spent on the homeless in different agencies in the U.S. and turned that into housing and aid? Would that work? Is it just that our sizes are so different that they are able to provide much better public service for their citizenry?  I don't think it is that people care less in the states, but we debate so much, we lose sight of the goal, which is caring for people.