This cookbook + scary stories + suitcases

Oct 24, 2021

May I recommend

ARAB COOKING ON A SASKATCHEWAN HOMESTEAD

I am not a major chef, but I can get the job done and I often quite like cooking… Back in the olden days, I was a keen cook book buyer and I amassed a small collection, including a thrilling find — snagged (if you can believe it) at a deep discount at a Kingston, Ontario Winners: COOKING WITH DAYS OF OUR LIVES. Yes, in there, you can find Doctor Marlena Evans and John Black’s recipe for a sexy breakfast in bed, although the inclusion of cheese blintzes is puzzling. Bo and Hope Brady’s tropical romantic dinner, which serves up grilled mahi mahi with roasted pineapple is more on brand.

I am not here to talk about the time that Marlena was possessed by the devil and her eyes went red and she levitated (although, let’s do that , sometime). No, today I am here to talk about my favourite cookbook — ARAB COOKING ON A SASKATCHEWAN HOMESTEAD.

This is an obscure one. In fact, it came into our lives when my husband was briefly the book review editor of your favourite Canadian academic archival journal: Archivaria. I know that when we get our latest edition of Archivaria, we all eagerly skip to the flashy “Studies in Documents” section, but I urge you next time that puppy drops, spend some time in the book reviews. There, you might just discover a gem like ARAB COOKING ON A SASKATCHEWAN HOMESTEAD. How this book ended up in the To Be Reviewed pile at Archivaria, I do not know. I do know that my husband could find no one to do the review (Fools!) and so he brought it home. Here now, much delayed, but at least with about the same readership numbers as Archivaria is my review (ha ha, that is both a dig at Archivaria and at the number of subscribers to this newsletter):

Combining personal reminiscences and photographs of the author’s family, Habbeeb Salloum tells the little known story of Syrian immigration to the Canadian West in the 1920s and 30s through food. To be frank, I have never really read the opening chapters that describe these goings ons… I’ve skimmed to get the gist, but I am put off by the large amount of poetry.

The book is fun, with chapter titles like “Broad Beans: Delicious When Cooked By My Mother” “Burghul: The Cornerstone of our Diet in the Depression Years; “The Dandelion: A Healthy Weed Relished During our Pioneering Years” and “It was Bologna Sandwiches, not Roasted Rabbit For Which I Yearned During Our Farming Years.”

Fittingly, the real thrill of this cookbook is the recipes. I think we can all agree that Syrian cuisine is delicious, and despite the off-putting chapter titles, the meals that Salloum outlines are fantastic. Based on recipes adapted to the dirt poor, hardscrabble homesteading life on the Prairies during the Depression, they are not messing around: They are cheap, filling, simple and usually scrumptious. We are talking soups, stews, stuffed vegetables and a healthy amount of carbs. There are also a lot of lamb recipes - if that’s a selling point.

My favourite is Vegetarian Delight. It is essentially lentils and onions, but somehow it’s insanely good (probably all the butter) and you should make it.

Do you have a favourite cookbook? Share in the comments below!

More recommendations (but not from me)

Fifty Unsolicited Recommendations

This is kind of meta, because this lady has pulled together 50 of HER recommendations and a lot of them look very good. I am especially jealous of her chicken ownership.

11. A better can opener than you have. Maybe this is just me, but I feel like whenever I go to someone’s house and am helping them cook, I go to open a can and hear them say, “Our can opener is kind of shitty, but it’ll get you there.” A good can opener is like $12! And the satisfaction you get from easily opening a can with no struggle is worth that amount or more.

I won’t actually read these

Ten Terrifyingly True Tales of Absolute Terror

Years ago I made the mistake of reading one of Jezebel’s spooky story round ups and it literally gave me nightmares for a week. I will be giving it a pass this year. I did bravely go and have a quick peek to find a sample for you, my loyal readers.

That night, everyone slept at my house. Around 2 am, I suddenly woke up feeling like I couldn’t breathe, like someone was sitting on my chest, and like I couldn’t move. I was sharing the bed with one of my friends, and the others were on the floor, but then when I managed to turn my body on to my right I saw a seventh girl sitting on my dresser. There were only supposed to be six of us.
She had dark hair, and was wearing a black dress—like a pinafore—and was tapping her booted heels against my drawers. I guess that jerked me awake properly because I was able to bolt upright, close my eyes, and shake my head. When I looked again, she was gone.

I am not good at this

How to Pack a Suitcase like an adult

I still get this wrong and I still mess things up. I showed up my my mum’s for a few days without a toothbrush and without a warm sweater. This video was somewhat helpful, but it won’t ensure that I don’t bring 17 pairs of socks but forget all underwear (I have done that).

The science behind simplicity

Why Simplicity Works

Listen, this article is not as easy to digest as the video about packing a suitcase, but it’s worth the (slow, painstaking) read if you’re interested in life, the universe and everything (tm Douglas Adams)

The principle known as Occam’s Razor insists that, given several accounts of a problem, we should choose the simplest. The razor ‘shaves off’ unnecessary explanations, and is often expressed in the form ‘entities should not be multiplied beyond necessity’. So, if you pass a house and hear barking and purring, then you should think a dog and a cat are the family pets, rather than a dog, a cat and a rabbit. Of course, a bunny might also be enjoying the family’s hospitality, but the existing data provides no support for the more complex model. Occam’s Razor says that we should keep models, theories or explanations simple until proven otherwise – in this case, perhaps until sighting a fluffy tail through the window.