Category Archives: At Home

It’s beginning to look a lot like mess

I recently decided that the piles of books accumulating around the house were too much to bear.

This might explain my rage when the Beast told me that he wanted a 13-volume complete collection of Anton Chekhov’s short stories.

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Greece 3.0: What to pack

Last Saturday, around 2:00 p.m.:

Beast: Is there a washing machine at our Airbnb in Hydra?

Foodie: I don’t think so. There’s also no WiFi. I hope that not a problem.

Beast: Well that’s really going to mess up all my high power business calls but I can live with that. But no washer means we will have to think carefully about what we pack.

Foodie: You’re not going to wear one pair of underwear for four days, like last year, and then rip them off?

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Loose ends

We’ve had a couple of extraordinary date nights during the last couple of weeks.

Last night the Beast suggested we pick up Maker Pizza after work and finish watching Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master. We’d started the film the night before but I couldn’t stay up to finish it, maybe because I was full of an incredible minestrone-style soup the Beast had made (the secret, he says, is popping in some parmigiano rinds as it simmers, and sautéing the mirepoix in more butter than you think you need) and this Sicilian Nero d’Avola, which was worth every cent of the splurge.  Or perhaps it was because we’d already finished Francois Truffault’s The 400 Blows, a movie that the Beast gets quite choked up about, especially the ending, and which I remember not warming to in the same way. This time around, however, it hit home in all the right ways. What a beautifully sad film!

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Home alone

On Friday afternoon, the Beast and his boyfriends drove to Markdale, Ont., to spend two nights at their friend Tom’s bed and breakfast.

I’m home alone, which is extremely rare and extremely exciting.

After work on Friday I walked down Roncesvalles overwhelmed with dinner possibilities. I could eat anything! I passed Pizza Nova. For a recent solo dinner of his own, the Beast enjoyed their walk-in special, a medium-sized pepperoni pizza for only $8.99–only he upgraded it to an extra-large and ate the entire thing along with a bottle of white wine.

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Island therapy

The Beast whipped up a beautiful dinner earlier this week. He boiled little potatoes and green beans, grilled some trout, and dressed it all with grainy mustard, white wine vinegar, shallots, and olive oil. Personally, I would have kept the grilled trout on the side but I’ve learned to keep these dark thoughts to myself.

And besides, I was wrong. It was an excellent meal.

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Here’s ‘Something’ after 10 years of ‘Foodie and the Beast’

When I saw Ontario red, yellow, and orange peppers on sale at the No Frills for $1.97 a lb, I thought What could be better than turning on the oven and baking stuffed peppers for an hour in an apartment with no AC?

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Say hello to my little friend

There’s this story that a friend of mine told me almost two decades ago so the details are fuzzy but here’s what I remember: She was living and working two or three jobs in Florence, Italy and had a real Italian boyfriend. Her Italian was fantastic. She spoke it a mile a minute. One day she had an opportunity to make a little extra money at this catering event. She was serving breakfast to a bunch of fancy Italian men. She circulated through the room carrying a pitcher of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. “Pompino?” she offered them. She thought pompino meant “grapefruit”. She couldn’t understand why the men were laughing and saying: “Si, si, signorina!” Turns out pompelmo is grapefruit in Italian, not pompino. Pompino means “blow job”.

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