They came, they ate, they went...

Toast and fried rice - only in the north, eh.

After a week off and week of visiting with my southern sibling I've once again gone fowl on my veggie commitments with another round of 'how much meat can I eat' as we celebrated family fairs of chinese sausage and wings. A visit to our hometown to pay respects to our origins ended with a feast on ginger beef and bbq pork. The pepperoni calzone I had for lunch wasn't too bad either.

To make ammends, we stayed the course (and appetizers) at home while my nephew bunked on an air mattress and he graciously consumed huge amounts of homemade pancakes, jam and veggie pot pie. I made burgers one night but it was a good way to use up the leftover meat in the freezer from my other nephew's visit in May.

It seemed appropriate to spend the week twisting wrenches and beer caps with the young gearhead and we got the old Ford in the driveway running after a three year hiatis. Now that the grease is finally out from under my nails it's back to gettin' dirty in the kitchen (btw - kneading any kind of dough is a great way to get those hands back from oil-pan to dish-pan shape).

On that note, and my hands were CLEAN, I made a pie the other night to Margaret's surprise. She suggested using up some berries that were in the fridge and I suggested she make me a pie. She said 'too much work' and I said 'I'll do it,' revealing the last of my best kept secrets after dating for two years (last year she found out I play guitar). The pie was a huge success but I got burned as designated pie-maker for the rest of this lifetime.

The visit was one of the best ever as far as family gatherings go and the reminiscing continued the day after they left as Margaret and I sat in the porch enjoying leftover vegetarian fried rice my sister had prepared for her. The oldest of four children and our new queen since my mother moved on, I made the comment that she is the only one that can duplicate my mom's recipes precisely, including her fried rice. Margaret's vegetarian version is custom made.

Long live the Queen!

Our conversation led to the foreign crispy topping that accompanied her leftover lunch - a slice of buttered toast. It was Margaret's first encounter with the strange combination which is common in Northern Ontario. Chinese restaurants always served toast with an order of fried rice when I was a kid, and I believe some still do. Lunch continued and ended in the spirit of the week with full stomachs and memories of some of our fondest childhood years.