Friday Favourite: Dido's Salsa

My Dad was world famous for his salsa. Well, locally famous. As in, all of our family and friends would beg for jars of his usually just the right amount of spicy and a bit smoky salsa. In a family such as ours it is no surprise that the recipe for pyrohy dough is a treasured possession. We'd be bad Ukrainians without it. But the salsa is what we all were afraid would get lost when he died.

As the end was becoming abundantly clear in my father's lung cancer we all gathered at my parent's house. I sat and spoke to my Dad about his salsa. We started with the first recipe, the first batch he ever made. He told me where he got his tomatoes and peppers. I photographed each ingredient as it was chopped so we would always know just how fine or chunky it should be. I photographed my Dad as he  stirred, sipped, and stammered through making salsa.

A week later he was admitted to the hospital and 6 weeks later he died.

Two weeks ago my Mom and I gathered to make a batch of salsa, only the second time we've done it since his death. Somehow it's fallen to me to be the guardian of the recipe. I don't mind at all. We do a good job with it, but of course it isn't the same. It lacks the smokiness - maybe that infiltrated from him and his nasty smoking habit. And I chopped things a bit finer this time because I wasn't paying as much attention. I could hear his criticism in my head as I stirred the peppers into the tomatoes. But we came out with jars and jars of salsa that we still call Dido's Salsa. I still top my scrambled eggs with it, my daughter fills her tortilla with it, it sits beside a plate of nachos when friends come over and they ask where we got it. It will always be Dido's Salsa, even when I chop the onions too fine.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of his death. The 4 am phone call from my brother. The sobs of my Mom as I woke her, the stupid red car stuck in a giant puddle on the way to the hospital, making tea while I called the funeral home, telling the girls in the midst of a date, the washing machine repairman who came and had no clue what had happened. It's all so vivid. Perhaps even more so this year as last year I was focused on the new baby.

My Dad was a man with many faults and our relationship was far, far, from perfect or even good. But he had a story and a heart in there somewhere. And damn, he made fine salsa.

Comfort Food at Breakfast (Recipe: Eggs Poached in Tomato Sauce)

The past few weeks have been a blur of mediocre motherhood wrapped around work. I've been completely slammed with work - the work that is only supposed to be part-time and done around the kids' schedule. Um, yeah, no. Thank goodness for my husband's flexibility and support.

And frankly, thank goodness for good food. Even at my busiest I manage to get dinner on the table myself 95% of the time. That is what my freezer is for. Instead of saving food for when times are lean, I save food for when time is hard to find. And no matter what, I always start with a good breakfast. It seems cliche, but it really does help me get through. And the one day this week when I tried to edit patterns with nothing but tea in my belly I had a massive brain fart. Math plus an empty tummy equals mistakes.

Times like this also require comfort food. As much as I would love to live on chocolate and cookies washed down with a scotch, that isn't very nourishing. Nor is it good for my attempts to regain some health. Thankfully one of the most comforting things for me is this dish you see above: Eggs Poached in Tomato Sauce.

(Really, anything in tomato sauce for me is comforting. My husband may indeed be correct that I am the descendent of Italian gypsies because tomato sauce is something I could eat every single day. Every day.)

A small pot on the stove with sauce simmering greets both my son and I as the girls do their morning run around. He knows it, I know it; breakfast is coming.

To that sauce - about 1/3 cup per egg - I crack in some eggs. Usually two for me and one for him. A smack of the lid to close the pot, allowing some steam to cook the white around the yolk of the egg. It only takes a few minutes. Enough time to toast some bread or maybe cook some greens to eat on the side. I'll use whatever tomato sauce we have - something full of chopped veggies or the simplest tomato butter sauce. Farm eggs, whole grain bread. Good food.

After the girls leave he and I settle in for a warm breakfast. I like my eggs just a bit runny while he takes his firmly poached. We get tomato sauce on our lips and smile. And then, only then, can we tackle the challenges of the day.

Ripe (Weekend Reads)

It's not just because we both have the same name. It's not because she is wickedly funny. It's not because I tested recipes for her book. You should get Ripe because it is just a damn good book.

This is my favourite cookbook from this year. Cheryl Sternman Rule is a great writer. The kind of writer I want to grow up and be someday. It makes the recipes in here a joy to simply read. She is a great cook, inspiring with a simplicity in her recipes that makes them very approachable. And did I mention that she is terribly funny?

One of the best things about this cookbook is that is arranged by colour. I know! How awesome is that? Unlike the typical and trendy seasonal arrangement, you can literally read and cook through the rainbow. This appeals to the quilter in me, obviously, but it also appeals to the Mama in me. My kids flip through it looking for something in a specific colour, just because they want to eat that colour. This is a far more appealing way to get kids interested in vegetables than by making goofy faces on their plates.

I was able to test a few recipes for Cheryl and they've easily become part of my regular repertoire, like the Smashed Cherries with Amaretti and Ricotta. I leave out the cookies and toss in more almonds and I have breakfast. Or dinner in the summer when it is too hot to cook. I've also made a dozen more recipes since getting the book. You need to try the Grapefruit Honey Sorbet. Seriously, this book is worth it just for that recipe.

I'd love to share a recipe from the book with you, but there is no way an adaptation can capture the humour and spirit that come with each entry. You just need to fill a bowl with something yummy, settle in for a good laugh and a growing appetite.

Old Cravings New Friends (Recipe: Coconut Cream)

After the birth of my second daughter I went through months of intense cravings. More so than even when I was pregnant. I wanted all things bitter and anything coconut I could find. I'm sure it all meant I was deficient in something, in addition to sleep. It lasted months. Then it drifted away. I didn't think about coconut much again until this past summer.

I've got a few friends who can't or won't eat dairy. Frankly, I hope this is something that never happens to me because I love a cold glass of milk. But one of them told me about this awesome alternative to whipping cream. I sat on it, letting it fester in the back of my head where food ideas grow like weeds until they crowd out the real thoughts.

There was a late summer party planned and a guest with a strong dairy allergy. I had a strawberry shortcake bar planned and thought it would be awful if he couldn't participate. And I didn't want him to feel singled out either. So I grabbed this idea and whipped up a batch of coconut cream. Then another, during the party.

It wasn't the little guy who can't eat dairy who ate it all and then some. It was the rest of us.

Creamy beyond belief, rich but not sweet. It keeps in the fridge without separated or deflating. Perfect just about anywhere you would want whipped cream. Like pumpkin pie, shortcakes, hot chocolate, on a bowl of raspberries, over a banana sundae, topping grilled pineapple, on a slice of pecan pie...

Coconut Cream
Makes approximately 1 1/2 cups

1 can coconut milk (do not use the low-fat kind)
1 tbsp icing sugar

Chill the can of coconut milk, unopened, in the fridge for a minimum of 4 hours or overnight. Keep it upright and don't shake it.

When fully chilled open the can and scoop out the hardened cream on the top. It will be about 2/3 to 3/4 of the can. Set aside the milk at the bottom of the can, perhaps using it as a substitute for water when cooking rice.

Place the hardened cream in the bowl of a mixer. Whip for 1-2 minutes. Add in the icing sugar (a bit more if you prefer it sweeter) and whip until incorporated.

Serve immediately or place in the fridge, covered with plastic wrap, until ready to eat.