Ice, Ice Baby

I am NOT a Pinterest kind of girl.

But for some reason this summer, the idea of popsicles- in this kind of mould and no other- took hold, and I was powerless to resist.

I blame Smitten Kitchen, which has some fine popsicle recipes, and I blame the summer heat, of course, but most of all I blame my pretty-much-yearly obsession with getting control of my sugar cravings and losing some weight, dammit. It started a little late this year, but once I got going in early July, I was on fire. I sailed through my last week in Saskatoon, and came home full of resolve.

Shortly after I got back, my landlords left town for two weeks and I was suddenly in charge of their large and bountiful veggie garden. (And their blind old cat, but I couldn't eat him.) I harvested: basil and garlic became luscious pesto. Small tomatoes found their way into my pasta. Cucumbers were hastily stuck into jars with water and cider vinegar. I walked into the alley behind our house with a bowl and fought the bees for the best blackberries. Little eggplants were roasted on the barbecue and whizzed into the food processor to become the best baba ghanouch I've ever tasted. Ah, the food processor! I've never been one for kitchen gadgets, but having access to two all of a sudden made me realize what I'd been missing. Once I'd made the pesto and the baba ghanouche (and once I'd cleaned very thoroughly, to remove the garlic-y taste), I realized that I could use them to make... popsicles.

The popsicles of my youth were unadventurous things (sorry, Mom). You got 2 choices: apple juice or orange juice. The tips of the popsicles would be super-sweet, because that's where the heaviest, thickest part of the concentrated juice would settle. And the last part of the popsicle would be more watery, and would inevitably melt into its plastic holder, causing you to slurp noisily in order to get at the last bits.

Now, I've yet to buy this book, but just glancing through it- hell, just looking at the cover- makes me realize that there are whole new worlds to conquer when it comes to popsicles. And I will. Conquer them. Just as soon as I get over these darn watermelon ones I keep making. Which I may never do.

I discovered watermelon-mint-grapefruit-lime juice earlier this summer in Saskatoon. It was cold there, very cold, for most of my stay. As in, spend money you don't have on a sweatshirt, because you didn't bring any warm clothes kind of cold. As in, Vancouver-style rain as you tried to bike home kind of cold. But then for the last week or so it finally got HOT, and on a couple days I mortgaged my house sold my firstborn child spent a lot of money to buy a bottle of this mesmerizing juice from Thrive. This would make amazing popsicles, I found myself thinking as I gulped the red juice. And indeed it does. In fact, the watermelon-lime combination is so magical, I haven't even added the grapefruit or mint yet.

If possible, get a watermelon with seeds. Trust me, the big black seeds are a heck of a lot easier to remove than those annoying little white ones that are in the so-called "seedless" melons. I like the mini watermelons, as those are the perfect size for popsicle-making.

The great thing about melons is their high water content. You don't have to juice these puppies. In fact if you do, your popsicles will end up too watery.

The uneven colouring in this popsicle is because I tried
to strain out the seeds and pulp, leaving the juice too
watery. Yes, that's a kiwi in there! 

You do have to remove the seeds, though. Sorry. (Unless you're really not fussy? But I feel like this would make for an annoying popsicle.) This is one reason why I buy the little melons, because de-seeding a full-sized one would drive me nuts. I favour slicing the melon and then scraping the seeds out with a spoon. Don't sweat it if you miss a few. The food processor usually misses them too, and you can fish them out once the juice is pureed.

Basic. See how much redder this one is? Not overly watery like the last guy. 

Isn't she a beaut? 

If you're very lucky, your boyfriend will buy you a golden watermelon by mistake. You will discover that the flesh is even nicer than a regular watermelon, and makes the prettiest popsicles. Especially when you add chunks of kiwi and strawberry.

See?

In keeping with my health kick, I don't add sugar to these. They don't need it. In fact, I find that a generous portion of lime juice adds a much-needed kick. I use over half a mini melon to make 10 popsicles, and the juice of one whole lime would not go amiss. The added fruit chunks make your popsicles look simply gorgeous, and add a sweet/tart chewiness that's delightful. 

I have grand plans to make Smitten Kitchen's Strawberry Black Pepper popsicles (minus the sugar), and I'll bet you that a mango-pineapple popsicle would be divine, especially with some added heat. (Maybe cayenne? Maybe chipotle? I can't wait to try.) I've seen some recipes for cucumber-lime or cucumber-strawberry pops that sound refreshing and delicious. Next time I come back from the grocery store I promise I'll have something in my bag other than a watermelon. Thanks to my sweetie, who loaned me his fabulous food processor, my popsicle-making days don't have to be over even though my landlords are back. And if I do get stuck in a melon-y rut until the seasons change and I no longer crave ice-cold refreshment? well, there's always next year. 

How good are these popsicles? Let's just say that since my 30-day no-dessert challenge came to an end, I have have had ice cream exactly twice, and both times it seemed overly sweet and far too sticky and milky, not to mention leaving me with pangs of regret and guilt. The simple, juice-packed beauty of these popsicles, on the other hand, is guilt-free. Eat as many as you want. Hell, eat all ten in one sitting if you like! Even if you do, you will simply have eaten the equivalent of part of a mini watermelon, plus some other fruits. And what could be better for you than that? 

A Weekend of Decadence

I didn't mean to write again so soon, but damn! I've been eating out all weekend (and it was a long weekend, too). And everything was so good, I feel like I need to share it with you. Plus now I'm sick, and the cats have finished their morning battle and are curled up in strategic warm spots all over the house and we are being quiet and sleepy all together, so it seems like a good time to sit and write. I have taken over the living room because my roommates are away and my bedroom is full of boxes. I got so excited about my upcoming move that I'm practically all packed, but my new landlady called this morning and hinted that they miiiiight need a little more time because they're painting and reno-ing down there and... So I'm going to keep calm (I REALLY don't want to delay my move, because I'll be flying to Saskatoon mid-March, which means there's a good chance I'll have, like, a WEEK to settle in before I have to leave noWHYblerggnashteeth) and I'm going to tell you all about the amazing food I ate this weekend instead of getting sad. 

First up: Bows x Arrows on Fraser is incredible, and you should really drop everything and go there RIGHT NOW. J and I rolled out of bed on Saturday and heard the siren call of Breakfast Cooked By Somebody Else, and I took a chance on BxA because I'd seen a brunch menu in their window one night as I walked by. Don't be put off by their coffee shop aesthetic: they DO serve real food, and they ARE licensed. (Although, should you only want a coffee, their cappuccinos are very fine.) For breakfast, J had the Welsh Rarebit: basically cheese-on-toast. BxA serves theirs with roasted mushrooms and a fried egg on top, and it was rich and delicious. I chose the smoked salmon scramble: delicate pink house-smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, thin slices of that very seed-y, heavy rye bread, and a side salad that was bursting with lemony dressing. I'm not usually a fan of salads with breakfast, but this one was so good I scarfed the lot. (It helps that they use some kind of green- watercress? that's much more interesting than lettuce.) While we waited for breakfast to arrive, we also shared a small almond-flour cake with a generous dollop of chocolate icing, and it was chewy and dense. The rest of their pastries looked just as good- definitely a cut above the usual coffee-shop fare.  
In fact, everything was so good that the very next day I took my mother there for our semi-weekly brunch date. We missed the brunch cut-off by minutes, but decided to stick around and order Happy Hour snacks. (Here's how it works: BxA serves brunch from 8:30-11:30 weekdays; 8:30-3pm on weekends. After that, there are snack-y things, and then they do dinner Wednesday-Saturday as well.) 
While we waited, we drank Caesars. 

Someone else's Caesars in the background, while my mom wrestles with an olive, and the herring tartine sits patiently. 

I'm not a giant fan of tomato/clamato juice, so I'm not a connoisseur, but these were very good, made with house-spiced jalapeño tequila and house-made anchovy tomato juice;  garnished with pickled onions and fresh-grated horseradish. In fact, that's the secret to BxA's success: they seem to make as much of their food as possible in-house, so you're going to taste the difference. Then came the snacks: smokey, creamy potato-ham soup, smoked herring tartine, homemade pickled veggies, and a lovely little heirloom potato salad. Everything was bursting with flavour. 

Look at those cute purple potatoes!

Potato soup with ham.

Oh look, there's a record with a naked Prince on the cover, nestled by the beer taps! 

We left feeling very satisfied, but not in that overstuffed, uncomfortable way, and to top it all off? The total for everything: four snack orders, 2 Caesars, and a glass of beer for me, was just over 40 dollars.
Bows x Arrows is at 4194 Fraser St @ 26th

Back to Saturday, where after brunch, the decadence was just beginning. Big Rock Brewery was having an open house, so J & I headed straight there (hey, at least we walked). In an impossibly generous bit of marketing, Big Rock had decided to open their doors from 12-5; giving away 2 beer tickets to each customer, as well as a free growler (with a gift certificate for a free fill), free canapés, and a brewery tour! Although we were still stuffed from brunch, we enjoyed our porter (a full pint for free!), and I also had a (free) pint of their Rock Creek cider, since I'm not much of a beer drinker. The tour was informative and fun, with a free sample of their Midnight Rhapsody porter and a chance to meet the brewmaster at the end of it. 

My sweetheart, being all cute and handsome. 

And as we left, the hostess urged us to take not one, but two growlers each! They were too busy to fill them up then (hence the gift cards), but I'll definitely be back to make use of them soon. It's about time as a Vancouverite that I learn to obsess about beers. 
Big Rock Brewery & Taphouse is at 310 W 4th Ave.

Finally... yesterday. I was hired to do a few hours of session work on someone's album, which is pretty much my favourite way to spend a day. Since the studio is in east Van and it was a gorgeous morning, I decided to walk there, but changed my mind as I saw the #22 bus approaching. My reasoning? If I jumped on the bus, I could probably fit in breakfast at Yolk's before my session began. Unfortunately I'd totally forgotten that it was Family Day, and even though it wasn't yet 9am, the lineup was already out the door. Oh well. I walked north and east, remembering that Scandilicious Waffle House was nearby and on the way. Ha- no lineups there! Just a cosy table in the corner, counter service, and the best waffle I have EVER had. No joke. I ordered the Valhalla, which came with maple-bacon jam, crunchy bacon pieces, and a generous slice of back bacon. Amazing. 

The Valhalla steals my heart by being so... bacon-y. 

I also had a cappuccino. Before I left, I had to try one of their double-chocolate cookies, which tasted as incredible as it looked: almost black; chewy and sweet and melt-in-your-mouth. The rest of the baked goods looked just as good, so it was with some disappointment that I realized I didn't have to do another recording session later in the week, as we got through all the songs that needed a backup singer. Good thing I'm moving closer to Scandilicious... whenever I do move. Sigh.
Scandilicious is at 25 Victoria Drive

Lest you think that my life is one big date with my plate, l must tell you that 
a) it's not 
    and 
b) I've just started up a bit of a support group for me and some friends who want to start eating better and getting healthy. My patterns are fairly predictable (and common): Get healthy in the summer: cavort and run and bike and play outside and eat all the good stuff, and then pack on the pounds each winter as I eat starches to stave off the wet, grey, cold weather and indulge my sweet tooth far too often. It's a pattern I'd love to break- I'm realistic enough to know that I'll never be perfect, but I'm hoping this'll be a step in the right direction. 
(Totally going back to Scandilicious for that lemon krinkle cookie though. Just sayin'.)

Catching up.

A perfect pear from Fort Langley, back in those golden late-summer days. Sigh. 

I'm back! And of course I've been eating non-stop for months and I haven't been telling you about it, which is mean of me.

But so much has been happening. I came back from the prairies and enjoyed the rest of my summer; lived in Fort Langley for a while and cycled and ran like crazy; then I started teaching music again at one school, and also at another school for the first time. Teaching preschool music, which is hard. But very fun, when it works. I got hugged a lot today, for instance. And a mom told me that her daughter has been making images of me out of play dough all week. ("Does she stick pins in them?" I asked her.) I am taking a psychology class at university, so that one day I can pursue my dream of becoming a music therapist. I am playing in bands and writing music and learning to play the bass and the ukulele, and and andandand...

[Oh yeah, and an orange-faced racist, sexist reality-show clown got elected president in the states. It's enough to make anyone eat the pain away.]

"You are the busiest lazy person I know," exclaimed my boyfriend the other day. "Lazy" is really my term for it, since I would usually rather be curled up on the couch drinking red wine and writing or reading than anything else. But somehow this has ended up being a lie, as I race around being an early childhood music teacher and a student and a musician, and so many things. And I realize again that although I claim to be lazy, in fact I am anything but.

One thing I am still not though, is much of a cook. Oh I try. But although I love food, I don't always love making it. Partly because it's mostly for one, except when my boyfriend's around. And partly because my work schedule is weird and so I find myself having cooking binges once every couple of weeks and then having a million frozen breakfast burritos or soups or spaghetti-sauce-frozen-in-a-bag at my fingertips, which is amazing. But a lot of the time I'll still be going out for lunch or dinner (or breakfast, let's be honest).

So, with that in mind, I figured I should just pluck a few names out of the air for you, since it's been so long. After all, if they've stuck in my head with all this other stuff going on then they're probably worth writing about, one way or another. You'll find that this list has a very east van bias, since that's my place of residence and work. No apologies. Here goes...

BREAKFAST

Fable Diner
Some of us mourn the loss of Reno's (at the corner of Broadway and Main); not because their breakfasts were outstanding (they really weren't), but because they were dirt cheap and still served cafeteria-style, meaning you grabbed a tray, placed your order and paid at the till, and then got served pretty damn fast with an edible meal that wouldn't bust your budget. Old people on tiny fixed incomes loved it. Well, I don't imagine they're still flocking since Fable opened up, but the quality of the food has vastly improved. On one hand it's the epitome of hipster gentrification; on the other hand: thick, delicious bacon! Avocado toast with smoked salmon, arugula, and poached eggs! Huevos Rancheros! It's not perfect, (the coffee is boring, for example), but the brekkie selection is on point. Bonus points for being 2 blocks from where I work, for those mornings where my sweetie and I want to grab a bite before I have to run to the ol' day job.

Bandidas
More bonus points for being a mere 6 blocks from my sweetie's house. Also, great big kudos for the breakfast salad I almost always order: ALAN’S BREAKFAST $12 Romaine, purple cabbage, cilantro, cheese, pinto beans, balsamic vinaigrette, guacamole, and apple salsa, topped with two fried free-range eggs. Served with two fresh, hand-made corn tortillas.
Add a side of roasted yams and potatoes $2.50

[Don't order the yams/potatoes though. They're not worth it.] 

When I'm not down with the health program, I order the Lemmy, which is basically an orgy of cheese, poblano pepper, and- who the fuck cares? There's cheese. That's all you need to know. 

Lunch

Blacksmith Bakery, Fort Langley

It seems so long ago that I was wearing next to nothing in the summer heat, cycling furiously from the converted barn I was house-sitting to the centre of tiny Fort Langley to swim in the muddy waters of the Fraser River off Braw Island Regional Park and work up an appetite for the incredible food at Blacksmith. But by my calculations it was only 3 months ago. Such innocent, happy times! 

Seriously, you should run (drive, fly), not walk, to this bakery; not only because Fort Langley will make you feel happy, but because Blacksmith's is the bomb. Sandwiches made with lemon-y guacamole and fresh, chewy bread. Tasty cappuccinos. And the desserts... Suffice it to say that I broke all my healthy summer vows on my birthday so I could eat their chocolate Guinness cake. And I regret nothing!  Their baked goods taste homemade in the best way, which is to say they taste buttery and rich and unpretentious and real. I'd walk back there from east van for their food. It's that good. 

Bao Down

And now for something completely different. Healthy, it's not. Delicious? Yup. Steamed bao (buns) stuffed to the gills with meats, veggies and sauces. Eat with fries, of course. They have Poke Bowls, for those who do want to be healthier. 

Dinner

Honestly, it's going to be either sushi or pizza most of the time. The pizza's gonna be thin-slice Neapolitan style, because that's what I love. If I happen to be downtown, alway Nicli Antica. In my 'hood? Barbarella's. The service is well-meaning but vague; the cocktails are tasty and the pizza's yummy. 'nuff said. 

Sushi? Damn, there's a lot of mediocre stuff around here. Kishimoto is doing it better. Damn them for not being open for lunch, but I had takeout with my roomies a while ago and it rocked. Tiny Naruto Sushi on Commercial at 12th has a kickass Spicy Tuna Roll. 

Sometimes I'll leave the music puppy-mill (kidding) at 8:30, and want to be instantly stuffed full of carbs. What can I say? Teaching kids can be bloody hard. When I want comfort food I head right to Peaceful Noodle at 5th and Main for some Peaceful Beef Roll or Spicy Noodle. (The spicy noodles do NOT leave your insides feeling peaceful, FYI, TMI. But it's a small price to pay.) 

Coffee

Besides my go-to, Matchstick, I have to give mad props to East Van Roasters for combining good coffee with incredible chocolate in a tiny, gorgeous space right down on Carrall Street. I walk in there  and instantly I wish that more places in Vancouver looked and felt like this. I've been cutting back on the coffee recently, partly because I've had some very disappointing ones so I felt that I should just avoid it in general unless I knew it was going to be exceptional, but I had the best mocha EVER at EVR. In fact, it was so good I could't finish it, because it was thick and rich like drinking chocolate, and I'd foolishly ordered one of their salted chocolate chip cookies as well. In the chocolate department, I also have to sheepishly admit  that I love Waves (yup, it's a chain- shoot me now) for using real chocolate chips in their hot chocolates and mochas, and giving you a choice between white, milk, and dark.  (As if there's a choice. Choose dark, ya wusses.) I've already had 2 of their seasonal candy cane-topped mochas and I see no reason to stop until a) Christmas comes or b) I get sick of candy canes and chocolate (never happen). 

There's a lot to be scared of. Winter is coming. It's getting dark so early. Did I mention that Donald WTF Trump is taking over the White House? We light candles against the dark; we bundle up, even on the balmy west coast; we eat warm and comforting foods to swell our bellies against the dangers and the scarcities. It's not enough, it's never enough, but we try. You'll find me here from time to time as the days get shorter, eating and blogging faithfully about it. See you around. 

From greasy spoon breakfast to baked kale, with an ice cream stop along the way.

First of all, can I just say that I got a new phone? Well, new to me; my sweetie had an extra one that had belonged to a friend, and he passed it on to me, knowing that I've been frustrated by my old phone's terrible camera. I took myself down to International Village Mall today to get a sleeve for it, and found myself walking through the aisles at Yokoyaya, because I find it so charming. I know I should be horrified by all the over-packaging, and I am, but...

There is something so charming about it, something that our western dollar stores lack entirely. Everything in Yokoyaya is- and I don't mean to sound patronizing here but I probably do - adorable. I guess it's the charm of the exotic, but also the beautiful colours and orderliness. When my life feels chaotic, I walk through Yokoyaya and think If only I had stacks of plastic lunch boxes, packages of sweet chopsticks and a box of perfect, tiny hairpins, my life would be so much better. 










But before my downtown excursion, there was Bon's Off Broadway. 

Look at this place! It's totally badass. Bon's has a grungy appeal. The walls are graffiti'd. You help yourself to coffee after the first serving. The place is packed- why? Because the basic breakfast is still $2.95, for god's sake! Jay and I both went for it. The portions were generous- no skimping here. 
My bacon was cooked just the way I like it and my potatoes were delicious, and had obviously been made from scratch rather than been poured out of a McCain's bag. Eggs and rye toast rounded out the plate. 

Jay had less-than-fond memories of Bon's but after this morning's feast he had to admit that it was better than he'd remembered. Look at this face- I think this man is enjoying his breakfast, don't you? Plus they basted his eggs, which many places don't (or won't) do. 

I'd definitely recommend Bon's over our other cheapo breakfast haunt, Reno's. The food is better and you can't beat the price! 

On my way home from downtown, I decided to go back to another place that Jay and I had checked out recently: Rooster's Ice Cream Bar, which is located dangerously close to where I live, on east Broadway. Apparently they had to open quite late in the summer, due to the fact that they had to do a lot of work on the property before they opened. Hopefully we'll have a warm autumn, so that they have a chance to make some good money before the cold and rain set in. 

The food blogger over at Nosh & Nibble gave these guys a good, comprehensive review last month, but I will add my two cents here: these guys make yummy ice cream! Definitely more down-to-earth and less hipster-precious than Earnest Ice Cream, this is home-made ice cream, east van style. 

Flavours on Parade.

On my first visit I had the coffee-toffee-chocolate crunch. The owner anxiously asked if the coffee flavour was strong enough, and I assured her that it was. It tasted like a lovely, milky cafe au lait. However, I was a little disappointed in the lack of crunch going on. I'm someone who likes good, thick chunks of stuff in my ice cream, and these guys seem to be a little more subtle. However, they make up for it with flavour: not only was my coffee ice cream delicious, but Jay had a real winner: a daring combination of avocado, honey, and vodka! It was nothing short of amazing. Bonus: he liked mine better, so we traded cones when we were about 2/3rds through. I love that man.

Today I had the raspberry cheese cake. Again, I found the cheesecake bits to be too small for me to really get the texture, but the raspberry flavour was wonderful. Looks as though these guys have some new additions to the menu coming this fall, so they'll certainly keep me coming back.

Of course, I can't eat like this all the time. People ask me: "how can you eat all this rich, delicious food and still keep your amazing figure?" (Actually, no one says that at all. Although I do eat out too much, I eat healthy meals at home a lot. And because I enjoy food, my figure certainly isn't without its extra curves.) 

But I digress. I was pretty self-indulgent today, so my evening meal was nothing more than a big bowl of home-made kale chips. I cannot believe how much companies charge for bags of these treats, so I never buy them. You can make them at home in under 15 minutes. Jay had bought me a big bunch of kale from the Kitsilano farmers market, so I washed it, ripped it up, patted it dry, and threw it in the oven for about 15 minutes at 325, tossed in a little olive oil, parmesan cheese, and salt. Delicious. Although I'd better not smile at anyone tonight; my teeth are probably covered in flecks of un-sexy green. 

Bon's Off Broadway is located at 2451 Nanaimo Street, Vancouver. 

Rooster's Ice Cream Bar is located at 1039 East Broadway 

The PNE: All My Food Is Brown

You know the PNE, right? That shameless, sweaty, noisy, crowded fair. Greasy food. Minidonuts!Minidonuts!Minidonuts! A whole building dedicated to the kinds of things you usually see being shilled on late-night informercials. Balding has-been nostalgia acts competing with adorable performing dogs for your time and attention. Rides that make you dizzy and terrified.

As you may have guessed, I'm a little bit cynical about the PNE.

Pure terror. 

But I went, after a 7-year hiatus, because my guy was working there this week, and because one of my best friends works at the Agrodome and she gave me 2 free passes for helping to judge some 4H displays. So picture this: my boyfriend arrives home, exhausted and unwashed from a week of chaperoning 4H kids, and I drag his ass... right back to the PNE. What a champ. Hey, he had some food vouchers to use up. First stop: Cheyenne Coffee. My guy had been such a regular all week that he got his Americano on the house! And my cappuccino was pretty tasty too.

On to Waffles With Benefits, which Jay had been raving about all week long, for a late breakfast. Now here's the thing: every time- and I mean EVERY time- I have a sweet breakfast as opposed to a savoury one, I regret it. It's like that person you have a fling with... and it's not that fun... but you try again because you think you should be enjoying it more... But they're still not doin' it for ya. Sweet stuff has its place, but for me, the first meal of the day needs to be savoury. So clearly, chicken-and-waffles was the way to go. 

My first chicken-and-waffles ever! It seemed a fitting meal to have at the fair, where everything is deep-fried. 

Photo courtesy of Jay.

I have to say, it was an experience. The chicken was delicious: breaded and deep-fried (of course), lightly drizzled with syrup and sandwiched between two crisp waffles with a side of gravy. I poured the gravy on liberally and set to.

I'd say it was a pretty good experience overall, and certainly not bad at all for a fair ; the gravy was a bit tasteless but the slight drizzle of syrup was a nice contrasting touch. As for the waffles- well, I guess I'm still uneasy about them: they are an excellent vehicle for conveying as much syrup and gravy (or fruit puree or Nutella or whatever) to your mouth as possible, but when it comes to eating fried chicken, a nice crusty bun would have served better, in my opinion. But that's just me, and WWB is not to blame. 

Fast-forward through various fair-related activities involving farm animals (get your mind out of the gutter) and it's time for ice cream. Casa Gelato had a truck there, but we decided to give Rocky Point Ice Cream a try. So glad we did, especially considering they're way out in Port Moody, whereas I can have Casa Gelato's stuff any old time. RP had the old standbys like chocolate, and the de rigueur hipster flavours of Salted Caramel and Maple Bacon. Now, I love the sweet/salty thing, and I'm super glad it's trendy these days, but life- and ice cream- should be about variety. I was tempted by the Honey-Lavender ice cream and the Lemon-Basil sorbetto, but eventually I ordered a double scoop: Raspberry-Lime-Mojito sorbetto & Blackberry-Sage ice cream. 

Did I quail when I saw the enormous size of my cone? Only a little. Jay decided to be daring and try their featured beer ice cream of the day: Yellow Dog's smoked porter. I urged him to try a sample first, but he scoffed. "I don't believe in samples", he said airily, and reached eagerly for his large helping of beer ice cream. 

The sweet/tart sorbetto was lovely. I am a sucker for all things lime, so this was a no-brainer. Pour some white rum on this baby, and it would have been an instant cocktail. But the blackberry-sage was a revelation: the sweet fruit and woody sage balanced by smooth creaminess. Both my scoops had large, delicious chunks of herb leaf in them (mint in the mojito one of course, and fuzzy sage in the blackberry sage one). This might sound weird, but it was fantastic. 

And how did Jay fare with the porter ice cream? Damn, that was some ice cream. Very beery, with a hint of effervescence, it would have paired excellently with chocolate cake. Although I thought it would be a bad idea, and since I don't like beer I wouldn't have gone for it, I was proved wrong. Deliciously wrong. I notice that Rocky Point has more interesting flavours on their website, so if you're in Port Moody go and check them out for me! 

As the evening approached, we retired to the beer tent for a while, then got closer to the Chevrolet Stage to get down to Barney Bentall and the Legendary Hearts. Here again, my cynicism was proved groundless. Over at the packed Amphitheatre the Beach Boys might have been lumbering through their Brian Wilson-less show*, but on our smaller stage Barney and his band were killin' it, and looking genuinely happy to be there. 

Finally, it was time to wrap things up. I was craving a bit more food before we left, though, so I had some tasty fried rice balls from Roaming Dragon that left me wanting more, and mac-and-cheese from Reel Mac and Cheese that wasn't bad but needed more cheese and less, um, non-cheese (flour, maybe?) in their sauce.**

Then, of course, it was time to celebrate the day's end with a fairground classic: the deep-fried Mars Bar. Of which I can only say that not all things should be encased in doughy batter. The warm, gooey chocolate bar? Thumbs up. The stodgy batter? (Greasy) thumbs way down. 

And so ended my very nice day at the PNE, wherein I discovered that if you avoid the places that are trying to sell you something, and stick to the agriculture buildings, the concerts, and the food-greasy or otherwise- it is possible to have a good time after all. 

*I should say that while the Beach Boys don't appeal to me without Brian Wilson's mad genius, I hope they put on a good show and I'm sure many good folks enjoyed it a lot. But Barney was a better choice. 

** We were at the PNE for basically the whole day, so I wasn't quite as greedy as this post makes me seem. Okay, maybe I was. 

Bon Macaron Patisserie

What IS it with our sudden obsession with the tiny macaron? Within the last couple of years these strangely bright-coloured little pucks are everywhere. All over Vancouver-perhaps all over the world- people are suddenly smitten. Me? Well I was a little late to the party. 

     Blame it on being sequestered in a backwoods northern town for much of the last five years. Mix that with a healthy distrust of the macaron's older cousin, the meringue (sweet crunchy air, anyone? Didn't think so), and a real hate-on for the similarly named macaroon (I hate coconut in most desserts. Coconuts are for curry. Period). This may explain why it took me so long to try a macaron. 

     Anyway, we can skip ahead, because for all I've flirted with them in the last year or so, I'm ready to settle down now. I'm going steady with Bon Macaron Patisserie, located dangerously close to my boyfriend's pad in Kits. What makes these guys so special? Three words: ingredients, ingredients, ingredients. Oh, and cute French guys. Bonus. 

     I slipped through their doors on one of those self-indulgent late summer days when you basically let yourself do and buy anything your heart desires. I'd been strolling down Broadway, stopping to graze here and there, and the Bon Macaron enticed me, so in I went. The first day, it was just three macarons. I chose boldly, excited by the mixture of savory and sweet flavours. Creme Brulee sounded safe, but fig/goat's cheese and pear/blue cheese? I dared. When I got home, I knew my instincts had been correct. The creme brulee was pleasant, especially the burnt-sugar kick at the end, but the two savory macarons I'd chosen were extraordinry. The fig goat's cheese had a soft, creamy filling and the bite of the blue cheese macaron was expertly tempered by the pears. Somehow it all worked with the sweet airy chewiness of the meringue sandwhich. 

     My next visit came far too soon for my waistline, but not soon enough for all that. This time? Six flavours, and hang the expense! Unlike the teenaged customers already in the store, who were being generously fed with samples, I chose quickly once again. The pear/blue and fig/goats cheese macarons were so amazing I had to have them again. The new flavours? Raspberry/balsamic, pure vanilla, chocolate explosion and salted caramel. 

     Again, I made it home before sampling-just. The cheesy macarons were just as good the second time. Chocolate Explosion was nothing mindblowing, but a very nice velvety chocolate, to be sure. Salted Caramel had a nice salty, slightly burnt-sugar tang to it that I liked very much. The raspberry balsamic was a lovely balance of tart and sweet, and the pure vanilla... wasn't. The cute French guy had accidentally put an orange-coloured macaron in its place. No matter. I couldn't quite discern its flavour, but I think it was possibly a mango one. 

     I need to do further 'research' at Bon Macaron. What I love is the range and originality of their flavours, and I'm excited to try the black liquorice one, the white truffle and sea salt, and the intriguingly-named Mediterranean Cruise.

     In my rich fantasy life, I am throwing a lavish dinner party on my private yacht. The amuse-bouches arrive, brandished on trays borne aloft by impeccable waiters. As the first, airy mouthfuls are taken, my guests ooh and aah at the marriage of sweet and savory flavours crossing their palates. Is that... cheese? Sesame? Truffle? As I smile at the assembled crowd, wiping a brightly-hued macaron crumb from my lips, my answer is a simple, heartfelt OUI. 

Bon Macaron's  flagship store is in Victoria, but they are now located in Kitsilano, at 2823 West Broadway.