When a person is on a mission to satisfy a craving, there is no stopping him or her;   nothing stands in the path until the craving is satisfied. Case in point, my Mom had this mad passion for a hot-dog–you know, a nicely toasted bun slathered with mustard and Bick’s sweet relish AND the nicely pan-fried or grilled weiner that had been fried/grilled with sweet onions.  Simple, right?  So, we are in a family restaurant that caters to kids and when we searched the menu, not a hot-dog in sight! The next time we were out for lunch, we went to another family restaurant–same results–not a hot-dog or weiner on the menu. By this time, Mom’s craving was seriously focused on a hot-dog.  At our next lunch date, I told Mom I was taking her to a place that had terrific hot-dogs.  Where else?  I took my mother home with me and made her the best hot-dog ever.  And, for a tiny person who has a tiny appetite, Mom ate the entire humongous dog and enjoyed every bite.  Now, she’s good to go for another year before the craving hits her tummy again. . .

My craving was for mini-donuts. You know–those decadently greasy little morsels of fried dough with a hole in the middle and are nothing but empty calories dusted with sugar and cinnamon but taste oh-so-good still hot from the fryer? Well, that was my craving. I missed the big Oak Bay Tea Party with its carnival atmosphere at Willow’s Beach because it usually had the concession stand for mini-donuts. I also missed the Sidney Day festivities with its concession stand for mini-donuts.  By this time, all I could think about was the conveyor belt of miniature donuts, endlessly rolling along in the bubbling fat, eventually dropping  crisply golden donuts into the warming pan, where the human hand dusted the sugar cinnamon over them as they were scooped into paper bags. Well, thank goodness the Foodie God was smiling down at me–mini-donuts were being served along with Classic Cars and Elvis–lovingly restored and displayed up and down the Avenue–the classic cars that is, not Elvis, although he was a superb imitator. I think the mini-donuts provided the strength and stamina to admire each and everyone of the 300 entrants being exhibited. Not bad for a paper bag of 12 mini-donuts–and these were definitely mini–at least, it satisfied my craving until next year!

All of us have our traditions when we settle in to serious writing. I had a favourite outfit  that I wore and one day, this is what happened.

When I write, I like to wear my comfy well-worn jeans with my old sweatshirt that has a faded brand-name across the chest and not enough fleece left inside. It helps me think–the clothes, not the fleece. Sometimes I forget I have my “writing clothes” on and head for the supermarket. As I navigate the aisles, I get the odd charitable look and it’s not until I see a glimpse of  myself in the glass reflection, that I realize I look like a “bag-lady.” Not the nicest image to heap on the public while searching for quick meal ideas. But, doesn’t it just frost your mind when you meet up with someone you haven’t seen in decades?

It happened to me the other day. I was at the supermarket deciding on fresh wild salmon or skinless/boneless chicken thighs for dinner, when a tentative voice murmured, “Is that you?” As I turned to see who it was, I prayed it wasn’t who she thought it was. Hopefully, there would be an embarrassed laugh and an awkward apology over mistaken identity.

I swear this is how it went.

This strange woman gushed, “Oh, it is you. It’s been much too long!” Frantically I searched my memory and thought she looked like someone I knew twenty years ago. The reddish-orange, frizzy hair seemed familiar.

Clutching my package of chicken thighs, I said apologetically, “You do look familiar, but I’m sorry I can’t put a name to your face?”

“Goodness, you can’t remember everything and it’s been a lot of years. I remembered you had the knack of remembering everything in the workplace. You were also quite a fashion- plate. I suppose you could afford it since you had a lot of overtime, but we always wondered after you left, if the books were really balanced or was it covered-up?”

Uh-oh, she’s catty and she’s checking out my writing clothes. That means we were never BFFs. I hate her already. What the heck is her name? Suddenly, she gave a maliciously half snort, half raspy laugh, totally unforgettable AND I remembered her.

“Connie–Connie, uh wait, don’t tell me your last name–I almost have it. You were on Husband #3–darn, I’m sorry, I can’t recall your last new name.”

“Connie? Who’s Connie? Aren’t you Marnie Chung, the company’s charter accountant?

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.”

Without any apologies, this total stranger hastily pushed her cart down the nearby  bulk dried fruit and nuts aisle. As for me, I kicked myself for apologizing I wasn’t who she thought I was. But I did decide on getting both the salmon and the chicken–two nights worth of dinners and less chance of meeting another catty nut. . .

My California friend, Eva Schlesinger, fellow chocoholic and entertaining blogger at http://notesfromthecupcakerescueleague.wordpress.com,    inquired about my chocolate quests. Well gosh and golly–chocolate is alive and well in Greater Victoria.

My girlfriend, N and I decided to go to our favourite buffet lunch at Sechwuan City and from there, take a jaunt to Costco, a few miles away. N’s mission was to pick up some burgundy venetian blinds and mine was to check out the snack aisles. Yes, I did have a huge lunch but I was saving myself for dessert. And what better place to get samples and food demos than Costco?

En route, N told me she was not going to get any more bags of Chicago Popcorn with caramel and cheese, which sounded gross but was so delicious she had already devoured 4-bags. Popcorn was never my yen so I merely nodded and told her I would save her from any Chicago bags rushing over to grab her. N also ordered me not to even look at these large bags of Brookside Dark Chocolate Blueberries and/or Cranberry Mango as they were just too good and besides, she already had  another bag of these at home. Okay–I didn’t exactly look at them, even though I love the smaller bags  in my grocery store but for a few dollars more, you get the Costco size that was almost triple in size. I didn’t look but I did stop for a few free samples.

I was really looking for my large jars of Kirkland Dark Chocolate Sour Cherries and Almond Clusters but these were no longer available. I had convinced Hubby that cherries were great for gout and dark chocolate excellent for lowering the blood pressure. Those are facts. Combined together, cherries, chocolate and almonds are a deadly duo of goodness but not the food for diabetics. However, N pointed out the newbie that is very healthy–dark Fair-Trade chocolate bark with pumpkin seeds–these were thin dark chocolate mini-bars with roasted  pumpkin seeds. It wasn’t my cherries and almond dark chocolate clusters, but they were good. I decided to try a bag and share with Hubby at home.

A few days later, I had to travel to Sooke, which is about 26 kilometers out of Victoria. It gave me an excuse to check out “Little Vienna Bakery.” Everything in this bakery/café is made from scratch using butters and creams. The scent of cinnamon and chocolate and buttery croissants grabs your nose as you enter and the delicious displays grabs your eyeballs. Of course, I tried their chocolate pastries which looked every bit as good as it tasted. “Chocolate Schneckes,” is a special butter croissant pastry filled with dark chocolate chips and a rich chocolate ganache. The warm croissant and the melted chocolate was like a blissful, warm hug, leaving you feeling content and happy for the long drive home. In case I got stranded, I bought a couple of “Super Fudge Brownies”–a deliciously dense fudge brownie with just the right amount of roasted walnuts and topped with a dark chocolate ganache.

The next day, I met a friend for coffee at my neighbourhood Italian bakery/café, “Ottavio’s.” My chocolate fix that morning was a shortbread pastry tart filled with a dark chocolate mocha cream, devilishly decadent. I convinced myself it was  definitely low-cal because of its petite size. . .

Hubby settled for his favourite–a tin of my freshly baked “Everything-But-The-Kitchen-Sink-Chocolate-Chip” cookies. Hubby declared it the best chocolate chips/roasted pecan/roasted pumpkin and sunflower seeds/dried sour cherries/rolled oats/cinnamon cookies he has ever had. For a photo take a look at my profile pic. And on that note, this ends my chocolate quest for a brief moment. . .while I nibble my other Super Fudge Brownie.

I can’t help thinking how sad it is to lose the art of letter-writing. The following was posted September 2012 in Red Room, but my feelings still remain the same.

Letters. I love getting letters–hand-written ones or typed, but not email or text messages. I love the genuine, honest-to-goodness, thoughtfully written letters recording the sender’s thoughts, caring messages, anecdotes or simple “Hello” with love.  I don’t get too many letters anymore. Many of my friends prefer a quick e-mailed message knowing this will be received as soon as they press “Send.” I like sitting down and writing–yes, writing a letter back. This gives me my “quiet” moment to write about what my family and I are doing, the amusing incident(s) I/we had experienced and return a caring response of loving concern.

Some people blame the cost of postage and the trouble of getting the card or letter posted in a real mailbox–not a virtual one. Others don’t seem to have the time to sit down to write a letter. They prefer to e-mail.

I like reading letters. In researching historical background, it’s wonderful to find a bundle of letters that paints a picture of what’s happened in the past. This is akin to finding lost treasure. It can give a glimpse of family, social events, political happenings and even the humour of misinterpreted local news.

I think it’s sad we won’t be able to leave much in the way of genuine letters that documents what life is like in the 21st Century. There is something very special in handling paper and reading someone’s news or happenings in their lives. Somehow, videos and You-tube aren’t the same.

My Mom and Mother-in-law both wrote great letters. By the time we finished reading it, Hubby and I got an entertaining picture of what our parents were doing. My brother wrote terrific letters too. It was often thoughtful, funny and filled with his commentaries on his work and home life. I guess my whole family are letter-writers since our parents never entered the computer age. I think too, that coming from a thrifty generation, my parents used long-distance phone calls sparingly, usually in cases of family emergencies, so letters were the means to keep track of all my siblings.  One of my friends also wrote when she had time. At the time, she had five young sons. Often, her entertaining letters were filled with the activities and antics of her boys, her busy life which was never boring and her hopes of eventually becoming a notary, which she successfully accomplished.

Yes, it does take time to sit and compose a letter. But the fun of writing letters to the person worthy of receiving it is knowing you’ll be getting an eventual response back. Excuse me while I go check my mail-box–the real one, not the virtual one. My snail-mail has arrived.

Short is Challenging

Kids say the funniest things–things probably picked up from an adult who didn’t realize what little kids remember.  My friend’s grand-daughter just had a birthday. She’s a brand new eight and with definite ideas on fashion. Her Nana had just passed her a bulky package.

Eagerly pulling the tissue paper apart,  Anya shook out the gaily striped summer top.

“Oo-oh, I like this top, Nana.” She pulled aside more tissue and shook open the pair of jeans. “But I don’t like these, Nana. Did Aunty Bee buy this? I’ve never liked the feel of jeans.”  My friend confessed the parcel was from both her and Aunty Bee. At which point, the mini-munchkin announced, “If Aunty Bee bought these, then Aunty Bee has to return them.”

Days later, I met up with my friend Bee. “Hey, what happened with Anya’s birthday prez?” I asked.

Laughing, Bee said she had stopped by the house to give Anya her present. Bee knew the kids had just gotten home from their day-camp but the parents wouldn’t be home for another half hour. Ringing the door-bell, Bee had caught the quick flash of a face at the window,  quickly ducking out of view. Bee rang the doorbell again.

A voice from behind the door announced, “We are sorry we missed your call. Your visit is very important to us. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible.”

With a straight face, Bee replied, “I’m sorry I missed you too as I have a very important parcel to deliver  and I guess it just goes back to the store.” Bee laughed as she recalled how quickly the door flew open. And yes, the pair of colorful summer pants met with approval.