Monday, June 22, 2009
I've taken to cycling after dinner around the town that I grew up to hate and have found a lot to love about it in its architecture. I think next time I'll bring my camera to capture it all.
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After work the Saturday before last, I met one of my best friends and ran a couple of errands on Main, including buying nice stationary so that I would stop procrastinating and get something in the mail to my cousin while she's still teaching English in Korea. We unexpectedly came across a sidewalk sale as we walked down the street to the restaurant where we planned to have dinner. She found a nice skirt, while I admired the geometric patterned umbrellas.
Aside from meeting a friend from drinks, last weekend I was sure to enjoy the nice weather while it lasts. One of the best parts was enjoying fresh, local berries.
On Saturday I had some delicious blueberries. I have a very particular memory associated with blueberries. This particular childhood memory consists of visiting my Grandpapa in Québec during the summer. I don't remember what kind of car her had, but it was an older model from the 70s or 80s and had the option of seating three in the front seat. My Grandpapa lived in the Québec countryside. Grandpapa, dad, sisters, cousins and I would pile into the car and drive up a gravel country road to our ancestral lands. I remember it was a bumpy ride and occasionally a small rock would ping the side of the car, as happens when driving on gravel roads. My Grandpapa would then lead the way and show us to where the wild blueberry bushes were and we would pick blueberries. So many blueberries. This is one of my fondest childhood memories and I recall it whenever I eat plain blueberries.
On Sunday, I went to a local farm and picked gorgeous red strawberries. This is something I haven't done in years, but greatly enjoy. I was amused when a mum told her children, who were picking next to me, to leave the small ones and to come with her to find the nice, big red ones. There was a variation in the size of the berries, but overall they were generally smaller and less symmetrical than store bought strawberries imported from California. The added bonus of these local berries was that instead of being white on the inside and bland, they were juicy, red and much better tasting. It reminded me of having discovered a small strawberry plant in the front yard of my sublet last summer. The plant yielded about half a dozen fingernail-sized berries. Despite being puny, the berries were exponentially more flavourful than its imported cousins several times their size.
I don't eat anything near a 100 per cent organic, but it's something I strive for. Generally this was because there was no uniform regulation governing what produce could and could not be labeled as organic in Canada. In a few days, however, eating organic in Canada will become much easier as new regulations governing organic produce will come into force.Labels: food, introspection, June 2009, memories, observations, photos
posted by Vanessa at 11:38 PM
