Posted by Sheryl Kirby in blog-a-log, news and media, on the web on May 31, 2008 at 8:52 am
A is for Asparagus. I haven't gotten around to eating much of spring's first vegetable yet, I've been too busy getting my fill of fiddleheads (most notably a crab and fiddlehead quiche) and freezing batches for the winter. But it seems as if every other food blogger in Toronto is digging into the asparagus. At Closet Cooking, Kevin whips up quiche as well - an asparagus and mushroom quiche. He's also got an asparagus souffle. Ferdzy of Seasonal Ontario Food has asparagus and black bean soup, and theres asparagus on asparagus at Brilynn's Jumbo Empanadas. And now the word "asparagus" looks really weird because I've typed it too many times.
In wine posts, Ange from iYellow has info on pairing wine with Indian food, Dean reviews a book about icewine at Gothic Epicures Vincuisine, and Michael reports from the Albert Bichot Tasting at On the Road with the Grape Guy.
Pat of Breakfast in the City checks out the grub at Stratenger's, while Kay at One Bite at a Time, makes vennpongal for breakfast.
Elsewhere:
- Eric makes espresso and cappuccino cupcakes at Do You Know the Muffin Man?
- Dana McCauley pre-plans her funeral wake, right down to the food (no, she's not dying, she's just organized!)
- I look at the revisions to the "Product of Canada" labelling laws at Save Your Fork
- Jen's collecting tragic kitchen stories at The Domestic Goddess - the best could win a Food Network prize package, so head on over there if you've set fire to something, or given yourself a nice gouge. (As a kid, I once watched my Dad accidentally put a chef's knife right through his palm with the tip piercing through the skin on the back of his hand between the knuckles - I bet that would win!)
Did your Dad faint? I would
Ha! No - my Dad is one of those people who gets sharply focused and in control in an emergency situation - a trait that I thankfully inherited.
He called me into the kitchen where we wrapped his hand in clean towels, then I called him a cab, got him into his coat and then he had me call my Mom, who was still at work, to meet him at the ER.
As we waited for the cab, he gave me instructions on how to finish dinner. I was probably 11 or 12 at the time.
Fortunately, the knife went through without hitting anything major - which was seriously lucky - and all they did was give him some stitches.
The funniest part was when he pulled the knife out of his hand, he whipped it across the tiny kitchen and whatever it hit, it broke the tip of the blade off the knife. My folks still have the knife - missing about half a centimetre off the tip.
You're dad sounds like a "Jack Bauer" type. Amazing. That is definitely a great story.