A Quick Catch-up

We’ve been bad.

For all my platitudes about blogging keeping us active, we let the exact opposite happen. We’ve gone a few months now promising ourselves that we’d post something about our late-winter adventures, but the beginning of spring has come and gone.

We’re big on keeping busy in the drawn-out back end of wintertime, because it’s so easy to get caught up in the gloominess of it. In late February, we took some time away with a few friends to check out the Drake Devonshire Inn in Prince Edward County (the county is pretty much our favourite weekend getaway place). It’s a lot easier to chase away winter blues when you’re drinking collected bottles of county wine with good company in a snazzy hotel room, or roasting s’mores on a frosty lake-front patio (courtesy of the friendly hotel staff). The place was packed, even in February, but the coziness of the experience made us understand why.

In March, we went on a trip to visit Biff’s aunt and uncle in San Francisco. It was our first time in California, and -- grump of all travel grumps that I am -- I actually loved it. In fact, we both did; the west coast was warm and warmly inviting. And, while still close and familiar, it was so unlike home: temperate but unpredictable, ridiculously hilly (of course), uniquely historical, and surprisingly quiet. Our hosts themselves were so kind and lovely, and such a joy to visit with that we left eager to come back.

In the month since, we’ve been spring cleaning, readying the garden, and taking on some small-to-medium re-decorating and renovation projects. We restored and re-painted the kitchen, only to have a plumbing issue ruin everything only days later. We laughed. We cried. We mostly just cried. But, ultimately, progress was made.

Our home and gardening efforts are ongoing, so there’ll be much more coming soon, and much more to show for the work (we hope). This is where we’re at with spring, so our promise is to remember to share.

Pancakes for Dinner

Lest anyone think that we spend our winter days and nights lazily doing nothing (even if that’s mostly true), we figured that a weeknight dinner post would break the frigid February monotony.

Tonight, we made an easy weeknight standby: okonomiyaki. It might sound fancier than it is. Okonomiyaki is a savoury Japanese pancake, and it’s really a kind of anything-goes snack. But, in the right proportions, it makes a quick one-pot (or one-pan) dinner. That’s what we’ve decided, at least.

Okonomiyaki is made mostly with egg, flour, cabbage, dashi (a fish stock), green onions and some kind of meat or seafood. There’s also usually a grated yam called nagaimo, but we go without it.

We tend to wing our recipes, but the basic measurements are 2 cups of shredded cabbage, 3 chopped green onions, ½ cup of dashi, 1 egg, ½ cup of flour, and a good pinch of salt. Our meat was bacon, although pork belly is more traditional -- either will do (and they’re both pretty awesome, nah?). Shrimp or scallops are just as good, but a bit more finicky.

Start by frying the bacon in an oven-safe skillet, then crumble it and set it aside. Reserve some fat in the pan. Combine the dry ingredients (the cabbage, onions, flour and salt), and beat the egg into the dashi. Mix the two together, then add the crumbled bacon. The batter may seem a bit thick and dry (it’s mostly cabbage, after all), but it’s ready at this point: pour it into the pan and fry on medium heat until it starts to brown (5-10 minutes for us). At this point, you can either flip it (if you’re confident) and do the same on the other side, or stick it in the oven under the broiler. We go with the latter, lazy option.

When it’s done, you should top it with mayonnaise and okonomi or tonkatsu sauce (which you can usually find in an Asian supermarket, or make at home by… you know, googling it yourself). It’s also typically garnished with bonito and seaweed flakes. We throw on some roasted sesame seeds and fresh green onion, too.

We tell ourselves that this is a relatively healthy dinner because of the cabbage. The bacon says otherwise, but mehhh. Bacon is love, man.

And you know who else loves bacon? This little nut.

“Come on, you selfish bastards."

Cold Nights, Hot Pot

“Can I be in the ethnic section of your blog?”

“That’s… that’s not even a thing.”

Which is how the conversation went when my friend Katy had us over for Chinese hot pot earlier this month. We remarked on how great the whole hot pot spread looked, and decided that we should try it out for a cold-weather food post. Katy was invited, but -- despite her protestations -- we decided against hashtagging it “ethnic” because we’re not that awkward uncle who says uncomfortable, vaguely racist things at dinner parties.

Katy’s hot pot was legit, so we mostly followed her lead. She brought the portable range, which is kinda half the fun. There’s something really warming about having the propane flame going right on the dinner table. Like, literally and figuratively.

We did take a few liberties. Katy provided some really wonderfully spicy chrysanthemum greens, and a dried mushroom soup base. We kept the ingredients minimal: oyster mushrooms (enoki would’ve softened faster, though), udon noodles, and a couple of varieties of cabbage. We got some thinly sliced top sirloin from our butcher, and it was perfection -- tender and flavourful without extra seasoning, after only a quick dip in the broth. We had some black bean garlic sauce and hot sauce on the side for kick.

And, because we’re those jerks who mix cuisines, we might’ve added some kimchi that we happened to have in the fridge. It worked, though. The sourness was a welcome addition.

If you’ve never had hot pot at home, it’s a fantastic late-winter treat. It was hot (naturally), comforting, required almost no prep work, and easily served six of us altogether. If you have a good base (and you can go the homemade route if you’re not lazy, like we are), then you can pretty much throw in whatever suits your tastes. It’s great for when it’s too cold outside to make a grand effort, but it feels grand in a way: it’s messy and social and there’s an open flame. We're into that kind of thing.

Garden Daydreaming

We’re in the thick of winter. I can accept that. Biff, not so much – he’s basically done with the cold come mid-October, and he just struggles through the rest.  It’s a tough slog.

Me, I appreciate holiday decor and greenery – decorating with cedar boughs and magnolia leaves and boxwood. Putting together a winter urn arrangement or a wreath is a nice way of easing out of a beautiful fall into winter grayness. But, after the holidays, things just get grayer, and spring in Ontario is such a slow creep.

So, we’re daydreaming. We’re thinking ahead to greener times and what they’ll have in store for us. I’m already reading gardening textbooks and seed catalogues, and drawing up plans. Is January too early? I mean, yeah, almost definitely, but it certainly makes me feel better.

We’re amateur gardeners. We moved into our home just over three years ago, and our outdoor space before that consisted of about sixty square feet of concrete patio. Until Biff showed me the light, I couldn’t keep a cactus alive. My green-thumbed father tried in vain for years to teach me something, anything, about cultivating plant life, but I mostly wanted to stay inside and play video games.

When we got the house, though, something flipped. The existing front and back garden were sad and neglected, but nothing sets your imagination alight like a blank canvas. They’re little, urban gardens, but our backyard stretches out for just over seventy feet. It’s our oasis.

We’ve learned mostly through trial and error. Some plants have worked, some haven’t. When we laid new stonework down in the front and back, we knew so little that we just filled the remaining space with whatever sensible plants we could find at local nurseries. Nature pretty much worked itself out around us.

I’ve especially taken an interest in it. Last year, I started reading excitedly about edible landscaping, much to Biff’s dismay. He maintains his belief that vegetables are inherently ugly, but I hold onto the hope that I’ll prove him wrong.

This fall, the gigantic maple tree which hangs over our backyard (from two yards over, no less) suffered some damage, and needed to be trimmed back heavily. It means that, for the first time in what must be about thirty years, our backyard needn’t be a shade garden anymore. I’ve been wounded by two summers of wilting, leggy tomato plants and failed plantings, but 2015 is gonna be different. 2015 will be the summer of flowers and ornamental veg and a real fall harvest.

I’ll make Biff eat his words. And, you know, some tomatoes.

It's Resolution Time

2014 was a big year for us, almost entirely because it was the year in which we finally got married. If you’ve been there, then you know that a wedding is black hole for your time, effort and resources. We were married in May, concluding a three-year engagement, and the timing bisected the year almost perfectly into periods of planning and recovery.

That sounds… a bit surly, maybe. Our wedding was actually sort of perfect – a small affair (60 guests, give or take), we handled almost everything ourselves (except for the catering, because we’re not insane). It made things relatively inexpensive, but also very personal. For all the hard work, we enjoyed every minute of it.

But, ultimately, it preoccupied most of our year, and the months which followed were a bit sparse because – financially – they really had to be. And we’ve had nothing but time to consider how we want to shape our lives going forward.

Biff and I aren’t big on New Year’s resolutions – they tend to follow the same theme of generalized, barely attainable lifestyle changes. But we find ourselves in a place where we have a chance to really explore new things and new directions. We basically have to. Our lives are changing around us.

This is Woodruff & Wrinkles: a record of the ways in which we’re committing ourselves to expressing our interests, and a kick in the pants to put more effort into fulfilling hobbies and activities.

Firstly, we need to stretch our creative muscles. We both work in a creative industry, but work itself is hardly ever totally expressive. Here, we can have an outlet for creating the things that we want to create, things that we love.

Secondly, we can’t take so much of our time for granted anymore. We spend so much time on the couch, online, or dwelling on our work lives.  We need to get up and take advantage of the time we have, to enjoy our home and our neighbourhood. At the most basic level, we need to walk our dog, Reggie, a heck of a lot more – he likes the adventures, too.

Thirdly, we’re committing to putting a lot more thought and effort into our food. Food is so central in our social lives – long, comfortable meals are the basis of most of our closest friendships. Learning to cook together was one of the building blocks of our relationship. We have a mutual love of… well, eating. But, in all of our post-wedding tiredness, our culinary efforts have sort of shriveled.  We need to re-dedicate to cooking more – really cooking, and making at least one meal a week which requires a real investment of time. And, come springtime, I look forward to a renewed opportunity to grow some of that food ourselves.

Woodruff & Wrinkles is our contract with each other to keep ourselves honest. It’s our contract with whoever bothers to read it, too, but we think it'll be worth reading. There will be a lot to see, a lot that’s easy on the eyes, and a lot of this little guy.

Reggie is the Wrinkles in our name, Woodruff for our love of all things green. It seems like a nice place to start.