Traditional Irish Soda Bread

Posted on March 17, 2013 by Mama Cormier

…. this bread made everyone happy today

Happiness Files – Day 8

I was prepared to add raisin and currents to my bread today until I read that traditional Irish soda bread has only 5 ingredients: flour, baking soda, sugar, salt and buttermilk

4 cups (1000 mL) all-purpose flour

1tablespoon (15 mL) sugar

1 tsp. (5 mL) salt

1 tsp. (5 mL) baking soda

2 cups (500 mL) buttermilk

1. Thoroughly mix all the dry ingredients together in a large bowl. Nothing is worse than biting into a clump of baking soda. Make a well in the middle.

2. Pour the buttermilk into the centre and then using your hands move the flour into the liquid and mix together until all the ingredients come together.

3. Using your hands gently knead the dough a couple of times until you form a nice smooth ball.

4. Place the loaf on a lightly greased cookie sheet and with a sharp knife cut a deep cross through the middle of the loaf.

5. Bake the bread in a 425 degree oven for 35 minutes. Cool on a rack.

6. Slice and serve with butter.

Dinner today consisted of a beet, wilted greens, and feta salad. I used the beets and steamed greens that I prepared last night. I added feta cheese, a splash of olive oil and freshly ground pepper and salt. I felt like I was in a fancy restaurant enjoying a gourmet salad.

The main course was the Guinness Irish stew and a dollop of champ (mashed potatoes with sliced green onions) that my husband made. It was amazing.

Before dessert we took the dogs, Lucy and Frances, for a nice long walk to help burn some of the calories from the stew and make room our fresh berries and cream and hot steaming coffee.

Here are 5 more reasons why I had a happy day today. Bringing people who love each other together to enjoy a meal, regardless of the occasion, is always a happy moment. Sharing food with people who appreciate your efforts is very rewarding. Hope you had a lovely day, whether you were celebrating St. Patrick’s Day or just enjoying a regular Sunday.

Kevin enjoying a Guinness with his Irish stew.

Cheers!

My Happy File – Day 3

Posted on March 12, 2013 by Mama Cormier

…. found this great YouTube Video on Simple Tom’s blog

Happy moments I experienced today:

At the start of our morning walk (a happy moment in itself) we ran into our neighbour J. After talking to J for a few moments you can’t walk away without a smile and a laugh. J is one of those people who is always happy and sees the good in every situation. He also has a sharp sense of humour and that twinkle in his eye can light up a room.

J and his partner own a small business in town where they design and manufacture the Buddy Belt, a great harness for dogs of all sizes. When we got Frances six years ago they started giving us Buddy Belts to ‘test drive’. I guess you could say we’ve become part of their consumer test group for their product.

Today Frances was wearing one of her original belts (as a puppy she chewed through her first one after we forgot to take it off) and J decided it was probably time for a new one. K jokingly said something about St Patrick’s Day coming up and the look in J’s eyes told me he was searching his memory for a green belt. Wouldn’t surprise me if one is hanging on our door knob in the next day or two.

The second happy moment took place this afternoon. My husband and I needed to get out of the house so we decided to check out the new hardware store up the street. After looking around for awhile K was need of coffee so we headed over to one of our favourite bistros. Just before leaving I looked up and saw a former student and his mom. I couldn’t get over how tall he had grown.

When I walked over to their table they were both surprised and pleased to see me. EC was 6 foot 3 and very handsome. He wasn’t particularly tall when he was with me in grade 5 but now at 16 he stands out in a crowd. It was good to hear that he was doing well in school and the problems he had when he was in junior school had pretty much disappeared. I love it when kids experience success and are working towards attainable goals.

Yesterday I told you that my husband couldn’t complete the 3 day cleanse with me and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it without him. I’m happy to report that I completed my second day and it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. As an added bonus the smoothies were even better today.

Did you experience at least three happy moments today? Feel free to share them with us in the comment box. As you know those comments make me happy.

Cheers!

“They’ll be small!”

Posted on December 30, 2012 by Mama Cormier

….. famous last words from my obstetrician

Story #6 for Daily Post Writing Challenge

December 30, 1981

When I started this blog I wanted to share memories of my childhood and life in general with my family and friends. Over the last nine months (how ironic) my family has grown to include the blogging community. Today I celebrate the 31st birthday of my twins.

The memories of that day are vividly clear. It’s not because I was going through hours of agonizing labour. In fact with this pregnancy there was no labour unless you count the five separate occasions when I experienced false contractions. Actually the contractions were real but they always stopped just before I was ready to make that trip to the hospital.

Back in late August of that year I was informed over the phone that the results of my ultrasound showed that there was definitely more than one baby in my womb. I must have been in shock because I didn’t ask how many babies they actually saw. The doctor on call did inform me though that I probably would have these babies earlier than my due date of January 7th. On average twins are born 22 days early.

A week later I saw my obstetrician and he assured me that there were only two babies on the ultrasound pictures, although a few weeks later he did question me as to why I was so big. Apparently he was so busy that he completely forgot I was having twins when he made that comment. Once again I wondered how many babies I was actually carrying.

As my due date drew closer I continued to drive the car and I routinely had to readjust the seat so that my swollen belly didn’t hit the steering wheel. I gained a total of 56 pounds but luckily I had lost a lot of weight before I became pregnant and I actually weighed less at the end of this pregnancy than I had with my first.

I loved being pregnant. I experienced very little in the way of morning sickness and all the complications that I was warned about never happened. I looked forward to each new stage. Being pregnant with twins certainly draws a lot of stares from strangers. My first memory occurred early in the pregnancy when a complete stranger asked me my when my baby was due. At the time I was only 3 months into my pregnancy but I was already wearing maternity clothes. I just assumed that because this was my second pregnancy it wasn’t unusual to show earlier. I remember how shocked the woman looked when I told her my due date.

The other thing that my husband and I discovered was that older people who found out that I was having twins all had stories how one or both of their twins or someone else’s twins DIED. My husband was furious but I didn’t let it bother me.

I was secretly hoping that my babies would be born on Christmas Day. That wish didn’t come true. As the days wore on and Christmas came and went I knew that these babies didn’t care about arriving early. So much for averages. I was so large that my 2 year old daughter could hide herself under my belly and I could use it as a shelve to rest my cup of tea on.

As we got closer to the end of the month, my doctor and I decided to prebook the surgery for my C-section. We always knew that it would probably end up this way unless the babies came early and were small enough for me to deliver naturally. The date was set; December 30th, 1981.

The morning of my surgery I started to feel that things were different. I often wonder if the twins would have come on their own that day or on New Years Eve but I was happy to finally have it over with. I didn’t know if I was having two boys or two girls or one of each. For some reason I really didn’t want two boys. I grew up in a family of all girls and I think I was a little leary of raising boys. I also hoped that If I had two girls that they would be identical. I can’t imagine the conflict that could ensue if one sister was prettier than the other.

As I was being prepped for surgery my doctor informed me that these babies would be small. Famous last words. I was awake for the procedure so as soon as each baby was pulled from my womb they were held up over the drape so that I could see them. The first baby was a girl and I felt a sense of relief. She was beautiful and weighed 6 pounds 8 ounces. The second baby was a boy. I remembered that he was long and not as round as his sister but he weighed in at a respectable 7 pounds and 4 ounces. So much for small babies. I had carried almost 14 pounds of baby in the last month of my pregnancy.

So the day is memorable on many counts. I had two healthy babies, one boy and one girl. My son was the first male born on my side of the family in over 50 years and my husband’s father was happy because he finally had a grandson to carry on the family name. It would be another 7 1/2 years before another child would be born into our family but once the first cousin arrived the other 3 followed soon after.

The miracle of birth is just that; a miracle. It doesn’t matter how they’re born, where or when. Each child is special and brings new life and hope to this sometimes bleak world. Wishing you all a very happy, healthy and productive New Year in 2013.

Just When I Thought I’d Heard it All Before

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Mama Cormier

……my father throws another gem into the story that he’s retold at least a dozen times

Story #2 for The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge, which is to post a new story each day for one week.

“It was Love at First Sight!”

Everytime the family gets together with my 86 year old dad we are entertained with tales of my father’s childhood, war stories or how he met my mother. This Christmas was no different. In January my father will have been widowed from my mother for 20 years but as with many men, my father needed a woman in his life and he found love a second time.

Dad’s partner, G, is always present when he rallies us around for his stories but when he talks lovingly of our mother I always feel somewhat uncomfortable and can’t help but wonder what goes through her mind when Mom comes up in conversation.

This year, on Boxing Day, my middle sister, her family and I drove to the Schwa to celebrate the holiday with my father and G. Somewhere between dinner and dessert Dad started to reminisce about his life shortly after the war. The first new piece of information that I had never heard before was how my grandfather died. I knew that he had an accident on the job but I didn’t know the gruesome details.

After the war ended in Germany my father’s parents were allowed to stay in their family home which was now part of Poland. Most Germans were sent packing with whatever they could carry on their backs but Opa Winkler was asked to stay because he had a skill that was needed to rebuild the town. His job was working on the hydro lines and unfortunately the pole that he ascended one day was unstable and fell over while he was still on it. He spent three days in the hospital in a coma and eventually succumbed to his injuries.

The other part of this story that I didn’t know was that my grandmother and her two children were then forced to leave their home and were relocated in Bielefeld in West Germany. My father at the time was working on a farm and had no idea that his father had died or that his family had moved. When he did learn of their fate almost two years had passed. This new piece of the puzzle filled a void in the bigger picture. I now understand why my father left the farm, a job that he loved, and moved to Bielefeld. It was, of course to help his mother and his siblings get back on their feet. Little did he know at the time that Oma Winkler had already found a man who was more than willing to assist her.

My father continued talking about how he moved on and found a great job with an English general as a house boy or personal assistant and eventually made his way to Frankfurt where he worked in an American hotel. It was here that my mother accidentally bumped into my father, looking for her sister who worked in the same place. My father claims he felt sorry for this young girl and initially just wanted to help her out but according to him “it was love at first sight” for my mother. Here was the man who would father her children.

I wish my mother were here to tell her version of this story. I’m sure that it’s mostly true but I have a feeling that there’s another side to this tale of romance.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Just Do It

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Mama Cormier

……I just discovered The Daily Post at WordPress.com

I’ve been trying to hone my writing skills since I started blogging in April. One day before the writing challenge, Just Do It, came out I wrote one of my best pieces ever, so I’ve decided to reprint it for those of you who follow the writing challenges. I’ll try to write another two stories later today seeing that I’m already two days into the challenge and haven’t written anything since the challenge began.

The Best Christmas Present

It was December 24th, 1958. I was six years old. I remember that it was a frosty cold day and my mother was fretting because we still didn’t have our tree. In Germany it was traditional to put the tree up Christmas Eve but Mom had been in Canada long enough to know that trees were sold well in advance of the big day and that finding one at this late date would be challenging. My father, however, the complete optimist, reassured us that bringing home a tree today would not be a problem.

Early in the afternoon, Dad got into his big black Ford and left Mom, my sister and I to prepare the house for the arrival of Santa Claus. Hours passed and I remember my mother started to worry. There were no cell phones and stores were already closed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity my father arrived with not one, but two trees.

My mother was aghast. What were we to do with two trees and two spindly trees at that? My father, again, reassured us that he had it all under control and disappeared into the basement with both trees in tow. For the next hour or so we heard the hand saw cut away at one of the trees and a hand drill bore holes into the other.

Weary and smiling from ear to ear, Dad emerged from the basement with a beautiful, full, and perfectly formed ‘Tannenbaum’. Christmas was looking up and we quickly adorned our new tree with glass ornaments that had been carefully brought over from Germany. The electric candles were meticulously arranged and then we were allowed to place the icicles on the lower branches while the adults worked on the upper ones.

Darkness came early as it always has on Christmas Eve and I remember the excitement I felt and the anticipation of hearing and maybe seeing Santa Claus come through the front door in an hour or so. When it was time my mother hurried us into our bedroom and sat with us while we waited for Santa’s arrival.

The knock was loud and resounding and my father opened the door to welcome our special guest. It was always the same greeting. “Ho, ho, ho!” while Santa noisily stamped the snow from his boots. The two men exchanged a few words, loud enough so that we could hear through the door and then as quickly as he arrived, Santa left.

My father called for us to come out and see what Santa had left us. It was always magical walking into the living room at that particular moment in time. The candles were lit for the first time, the rest of the lights in the house were dimmed and lo and behold the base of the tree was miraculously laden with beautifully wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there 20 minutes earlier.

Our tradition was always to sing a few Carols before opening our gifts. I wrung my hands as I dutifully sang and my little sister stood next to me with her cheeks flushed, partially due to the excitement and the late hour. The one present I remember both of receiving that night were matching life-size baby dolls. I named mine Barbara. Unbeknownst to us, the best present was yet to arrive.

Our next door neighbours dutifully arrived soon after all our gifts had been opened and we were hustled off to bed with our new ‘babies’. Little did we know that my parents’ friends were there to babysit us while my mom and dad drove to the hospital. It’s funny how I have no recollection of my mother even being pregnant and I certainly had no clue that she had been in labour that entire day.

The rest of the story is how I remember it being retold by my mother and father.

After putting us to bed, with her little suitcase in hand, my mother got into the car with my father at the wheel and sped off to the hospital. At the time we lived in Oakville and my mother’s doctor worked out of a hospital in Toronto. The fastest way to get there was via the expressway.

Before I continue with my story I need preface it with a little more information about my father. My father has always been a very carefree and spontaneous sort of fellow. He was a hard worker and provided for his family but his judgement about certain things was not always prudent. One of those things was how far he could travel on a tank of gas. That said let me continue with my story.

It must have been close to 11:00 at night when the unspeakable happened. In the middle of the QEW the car ran out of gas. I guess after driving around all afternoon looking for a tree my father forgot how much gas he used. Remember this was a time when everything was closed on Christmas Eve and 24 hour gas stations did not exist. I can’t imagine what my mother was thinking as her contractions were getting closer and closer. This baby was coming quickly.

Over the years as I remember this story I can’t believe that my father got out of the car and left my mom by the side of the highway while he looked for a gas station. As luck would have it my father managed to find an open service station and bought enough gas to get them to the hospital. My parents arrived minutes before midnight and about 10 minutes later my sister was born.

The next morning, on Christmas Day, I remember my sister and I climbing into bed with my father where he gave us the news of our new sister. Each year on this day I fondly remember the events that led up to this special day and the birth of my sister….my best childhood Christmas present, ever. Love you Cathy!

Wishing all my loyal readers and followers and my family and friends a very special holiday season, whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or Diwali. May you all have special memories to cherish and share.

Carol

My Fondest Memory of Christmas as a Child

Posted on December 23, 2012 by Mama Cormier

…. I love telling this story and couldn’t wait till Christmas to share it with you

When I started blogging I wanted to share stories and memories of my family as I grew up. This story is one of my earlier memories. The details ring clear as a bell for me. It’s like it happened yesterday. I hope you enjoy it.

The Best Christmas Present

The rest of the story is how I remember it being retold by my mother and father.

Carol

An Old Fashion Christmas Market

Posted on December 17, 2012 by Mama Cormier

….. Toronto hosted a great Christmas Market at the Distillery

The Christmas Market at night. Photo courtesy of http://storage.canoe.ca/v1/dynamic_resize/sws_path/suns-prod-images/1297349897629_ORIGINAL.jpg?quality=80&size=650x

One of my fondest memories of Christmas occurred when I was 11 years old. My father had a good year in real estate and decided to take the family on a three week vacation to Germany over the Christmas holidays to reconnect with family and friends that we hadn’t seen in almost 10 years.

My mother’s side of the family lived close to Frankfurt and we were treated to an evening at the Christmas Market in Frankfurt. It was magical. I remember that it was cold and there was a light covering of snow on the ground. I was in awe of the lights, sounds and smells. The entire event was hosted outside with vendors selling their wares from small wooden stalls. The treat that I savoured the most that evening was a small pink, green, or white confection made from coconut and sugar. To this day I can still taste the wonderful sweetness of those Kokosflocken. I’ve never been able to replicate those exact candies but I have sought them out, especially this time of year. I think I’ve come close to finding them but it’s never been the same.

Yesterday, my husband and I braved the cold and grey weather and made our way to the Distillery District in Toronto where Lowe’s was hosting this years Christmas Market. It was as magical as the one I remembered as a child. There were bier gardens, mulled wine stands and vendors selling everything from old fashion European ornaments, traditional German and Dutch Christmas baking to whimsical winter hats and mittens and children’s books. Of course Santa was on hand to have pictures taken with the kids and there were guest choirs singing classic Christmas songs. And if that wasn’t enough at the far end of the market there were rides for the whole family to enjoy.

After walking around for about an hour it started to rain and it came down hard. We quickly made our way to The Mill Street Brew Pub and stood in line with a mass of people who were also trying to escape the wet weather. We managed to put our name on the waiting list to be seated and to our surprise we were paged after only waiting for about 10 minutes, if that.

K and I enjoyed a lovely lunch together in the warmth of this very popular restaurant and we watched the rain come down from the window next to our table. It rained off and on all day but it didn’t stop the crowds from wandering around the market. My friend L, was there much later and it was still crowded after 5:00. I look forward to going again next year. Maybe I’ll go in the evening so I can enjoy the lights. The only other thing that would have made it perfect would have been a light dusting of snow and a bag of pink and green kokosflocken.