Life is Good.

My Saturday Morning Eamon Duffy reading group exemplifies everything I love about the Centre for Medieval Studies. We, having read Duffy for fun (or for Major Fields Exam Reading Lists) sit around drinking caffeinated beverages and pretending to talk about Medieval English Religion. Of course, in practice this means that we discuss reenacting a medieval rogationtide procession around the boundaries of the new Centre building (to drive all the evil demons from our 'parish' to that of the Classicists) and Thomas More's earthy sense of humor. ("That's why he got along so well with Erasmus...'Amice Erasme, tracte digitum meum.")

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We had a Canadian Thanksgiving last night. Celticist Roommate and I busied ourselves around the stove and then opened our apartment to Kolya & T., who brought the fruits of their own culinary labo(u)r and copious amounts of wine to the table--especially exciting because Celticist Roommate had brought me a present of wineglasses from Canadian Tire.

And then I got to have pumpkin pie for breakfast this morning.

Our Menu:
Maple Syrup Brussels Sprouts and
Walnut & Cranberry Bread (both by T.)
Garlic Mashed Potatoes, a la Celticist Roommate
Roasted Root Vegetables, from Kolya
A ham about the size of a Nerf Football, baked by one or both of the gentlemen
And: Phillips Stuffing, Baked Squash, and a Pumpkin Pie with homemade Whipped Cream by Yrs. Truly.

The Walnut & Cranberry Bread made me terribly homesick for Mom's annual Easter Party-- specifically her Kulich. I may have to obtain her recipe, come April.

This evening I am attending a less traditional Thanksgiving at the House of Em, where I will be served Japanese Curry and we will watch British Comedies.

Groceries

If I'm going to live here for a year or more, I really have to stop giggling every time something is French/English bilingual. Even the stove!


(Apologies for the craptastical phone pictures in this post... I'm playing with my fancy shmancy new cell phone and at this point of the morning (only halfway into my cup of coffee) it's far easier to send them to my computer via bluetooth than to go dig up my camera, take several pictures, find the camera cord, wait for said pictures to upload, and then copy the best one to the desktop. Today's post is brought to you by the letter L, as in laziness.)

Anyway, somehow Spanish doesn't faze me, and when in Wales the Welsh seems only just, but I went to the supermarket yesterday to stock up on provisions now that I'm on my own, and I find the fact that my cranberry juice is hypocalorique (low-calorie), my Quaker Oats are rapide (quick), and my laundry detergent is concentre (concentrated) endlessly delightful. My father was entertained as well. Really, grocery stores in other countries are fascinating. Let me loose in a London Sainsbury's and I'll be entertained for hours.

Actually, yesterday was really the day of shopping in general, because we started off with a trip to the Eaton Centre to find me a cell phone. We went with Rogers because the employees were the nicest and most helpful. If they're going to get paid by commission, we know who we want to get it. The phone is a sexy little Sony Ericsson "Walkman" phone that can travel internationally and takes pictures. (It also plays music, but I don't need that so much.) I'm trying not to get too attached to it. If I do it'll probably spontaneously combust on the subway or something.

Side note: we didn't buy a North American plan, on the advice that it would be cheaper to buy a phone card and then call the US during the unlimited local calling times, as the phone card would be a local call. This probably goes for those of you interested in calling me, as well. Just so you know.

After our soul-crushing trip through the temple to consumerism that is the 21st-century mall, we went to the St. Lawrence Market to play with local food. I took pictures with my new phone. Actually, the first picture I took was completely accidental, of some random woman in the market. So, if you are a woman who was at St. Lawrence Market yesterday and some strange bespectacled twenty-something with a pale green University of Toronto bookbag and a blue hooded sweatshirt took a cell phone picture of you, she wasn't stalking you. She was just trying to figure out her phone. (I don't need to worry about my attachment to material objects... I'm mortified enough by embarrassing myself on a daily basis!)

Anyway. I have no pictures of the cheese stands, where I spent a considerable amount of time, but I do present: King Crab Legs from Alaska. These things were about as long as the distance from my elbow to the tips of my fingers. I'm going to have nightmares about King Crabs from now on.


For you, Podraig: Live Mussels from Prince Edward Island.


And, finally, a picture of my favorite stand ever, which consisted of about twenty gazillion kinds of rice and beans in bulk.


I'm not sure I've ever mentioned my deep love for bulk grains, but there it is... my dream as a vegetarian is to someday have a pantry lined with class canisters filled with all sorts of grains, beans, and pasta. I think that my love of cooking comes from the mysterious, refrigerated bulk foods room in the back of the now-defunct health food store on 24th Street in San Francisco. As a child I loved those barrels full of beans and grains and flours, and the potential they held to be turned into all sorts of things.

Yesterday at St. Lawrence Market, it was all I could do not to stick my hands into the tubs to feel the way the grains felt as they ran through my fingers. (I resisted!) Have we discussed the fact that I'm a kinesthetic learner? I like to make/touch/build things.