Chokecherry Liqueuer, Year 2: Week 2 Update

For the first post on this year’s chokecherry liqueurs, head to:

So, after 2 weeks of turning or shaking these litre jars (almost) every day, I figured it was time to taste-test the liqueur. My opinion:

Unfortunately, at this point, both Nicole and I agreed the chokecherry liqueur pretty much looked and tasted like cough syrup (not what we were going for). It just wasn’t interesting at all–there isn’t anything interesting to this at all. The batch that had the cinnamon stick in it tasted slightly “thicker” almost (like there was a bit more flavour to it, but still, not much).

What mulled over what to do, and decided that I should add a cinnamon stick to the one that was just straight berries, vodka, and sugar. Nicole wondered if maybe adding blueberries to the mixture might add some more texture to the flavour? I’m hesitant to try it because I know part of the process is to cook up and mash the berries to get all the juices out of them. But I say that if the liqueurs still taste like cough syrup after the mashing and straining step, I’m going to try adding blueberries to the intinctions, and see what happens. I sort of feel like that was just way too much money spent on vodka to waste on something I’m never going to want to drink…

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Chokecherry Liqueur, Year 2 (a work in progress)

Hello Friends!

We’re well into fall harvesting and foraging season in our household (today, Nicole brought home two big bowls of foraged apples for applesauce and spiced apple liqueur that you can find at this amazing blog called Boozed and Infused)! So, while she cored and stewed those apples, I tried my hand at making the Apple Spice Liqueur from Boozed and Infused, as well as a different take on homemade chokecherry liqueur.

Two years ago, we had such an amazing harvest of chokecherries here–it was like the trees were just loaded with them. Last year there were barely any (which supposedly was a sign that we were supposed to have a mild winter…not really the case!). Anyway, this year, we again have an incredible amount of chokecherries, and so I figured I’d try my hand at making a chokecherry liqueur infusion this time (If you can’t wait a month for your chokecherry liqueur, check out my recipe from two years ago here).

I used this recipe from the docaitta blog as my basic recipe (I also made one with a cinnamon stick added in for some extra flavour):


  • 2 cups chokecherries (stems, leaves, and other junk removed, as well as any mushy berries)
  • 1-1 1/2 cups of white sugar (or to taste–I thought this was a lot of sugar, so I have one batch with 1 cup and one with 1 1/4c)
  • 375 ml of vodka
  • 1 L mason jar
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 cup water

After you’ve washed and picked through your chokecherries, dump them into a clean mason jar. Add the 1 1/2 cup (or however much) sugar to your jar, then pour the 375 ml of vodka over the solid ingredients. Screw on the lid tight and shake to mix the sugar as well as you can. Leave the jar to sit in a cool dark place for a month, taking the time to shake the jar every day.

Docaitta says:

A the end of the month, bring the berries just to a boil in a saucepan. mash them while this is happening. You’re trying to break up the berries as much as possible to extract the maximum juice without damaging the pits (which are toxic).
Strain a few times until fairly clear.
Bring the remaining sugar and water to a boil and let boil hard for 5 minutes. Combine with the infused vodka and bottle.

Because I’m still on day one, I can’t actually show you any pictures of the straining and bottling process, but Boozed and Infused has an awesome post on the steps for filtering and straining, and for bottling, you can check out the last half of my Gettin’ all choked up post .

Happy foraging!

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50% Local Food Club–Meeting Nova Scotia Producers Halfway

This September, Nova Scotians are challenged to step up to the plate! The 50% Local Food Club  is province-wide, month-long initiative designed to increase purchasing and consumption of local food in Nova Scotia, from Nova Scotia.

The program ran last year and more than 3,000 Nova Scotians took up the challenge to source 50% of their food locally for the month of September–a great start to encouraging people to eat local, buy local, grow their own food, and think in season when cooking and eating all year round! If you’re interested in being a part of the 50% Local Food Club, check them out at their website, or facebook page to find out more!

By registering, you get access to local food retailers and restaurants, nearby activities and events,  new recipes to try, a sample one-week meal plan, and opportunities to connect with other members of the 50% Local Food Club in your area! Nicole and I just signed up, and I’m excited to see what the month will bring. Hopefully, you’ll hear about it on the blog in the month to come!

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Wild Leeks and the Ethics of Foraging

Last Saturday, I attended a half-day workshop on foraging local food at the Wallace Museum.  It was an amazing workshop mostly because of the people who were there–there were, of course, people from all over the North Shore, but there were people from the Annapolis Valley and the South Shore, people from Cape Breton, and even people from New Brunswick! Over 50 of us crammed into this tiny room, naming off plants we know to be edible, identifying them by Latin name and pictures (if we could), and then discussing everything we knew you could do with that plant.

Now, I was there to learn more about foraging local food in Nova Scotia (because I’m originally from Alberta, there are so many plants here that I’ve never even heard of! Every year my mind is blown by just how much spring produce is available in the forests behind my house…), but that wasn’t the sole reason the workshop hosts were there. They were there because they actually deeply care about sustaining local foraging sources, and so a large part of the workshop was taken up by talking about seed saving, transplanting, and the ethics of harvesting local foraged foods.

Which leads me to the story of the Wild Leek. My partner Nicole got me a subscription to the food magazine Bon Appetitand in last month’s edition, there was a short blurb about Ramps (also known as Wild Leeks). Billed as packing a garlicky, green flavour that turns mellow with cooking, Nicole was super psyched to try foraging for Wild Leeks in our neighbourhood when Spring actually arrives (we still have a foot of snow on the ground in some places in Denmark…)

The problem, I found out at this local foraging workshop, is that Wild Leeks are actually an endangered species in Nova Scotia (or “threatened” as the government of Nova Scotia puts it), and are a rare and threatened species now in Quebec and Ontario. So what used to be a common springtime root veg for many growing up in these provinces and is now a hip local food for chefs and foodies alike is becoming more and more endangered, due in part to how we’ve harvested our local food in the past and the way wild food is foraged today for supermarket consumption.

This article entitled “Ramps: Hands off those wild leeks” by Jacob Richler really brings it home. As more and more of us begin to want to get in on a “new thing” (in this case, local foraging) in the food world, we also need to pay attention to the consequences our actions bring. Harvesting Wild Leeks before they’ve matured and over-harvesting of patches means that eventually, there may be no Leeks to harvest at all. As the Department of Natural Resources notes:

Fortunately, many of these species are found elsewhere in eastern North America. However, the surviving populations in Nova Scotia represent plants from the northeastern extreme of the range of these species in North America. The populations in Nova Scotia are almost certainly genetically different from other populations. Once gone, they cannot be replaced.

So what this means is that if we are going to harvest wild foods, we must do it ethically so that these plants will continue to thrive for generations to come.  So how do we do that?  Here are some tips I gleaned from the local foraging workshop:

  • Familiarize yourself with the weeds, herbs, bushes, and trees in your area to try to learn as much as possible about the ecosystem of which you are a part.
  • Try to understand these plants as part of a larger ecosystem.  With which other plants does it form communities?  Is it native or invasive?  Does it protect the ground or deplete it of any of its nutrients?  Building this kind of holistic knowledge base will give you a much deeper insight into the nature of a plant and its role within the ecosystem.
  • Familiarize yourself with the plants that are listed on the endangered species list for your area.  Apart from being unethical, it’s also illegal to pick endangered plant species.  Instead of taking rare plants, consider sowing their seeds in the wild. (This is the most well-laid out guide I’ve found for Nova Scotia–just scroll down to the plants section–for other provinces, googling “endangered plants in ____” is a good place to start)
  • Only pick as much as you need, and only take one in ten plants.  Never take all the plants of any one kind in a given patch.
  • After harvesting an area, give the plants plenty of time to recover before returning to the same patch.
  • Be very careful when it comes to harvesting the roots of a plant (this applies to Wild Leeks). Remember that often harvesting the roots means the death of the plant, so before you dig, ask yourself if this plant is really plentiful and if it can sustain a harvest of its roots.
  • Replant small root pieces if you can, or scatter seeds to the wind to enable the plant to repopulate at a later point in time.

My hope is that this will dwell in my heart and yours as we forage for our food this year. May we pay attention to the world that brings forth this amazing glory, and may we treat it with care.

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Yes, that’s what it says–spanobeetikas, meaning lovely little pockets of carrots, beets, and spinach in phyllo pastry (otherwise known as a super awesome way to use your root veg in the wintertime). The recipe came about because I’ve had a serious craving for beets lately, and Nicole and I have a lot of leftover phyllo pastry in our fridge that has been driving me crazy as I’ve struggled to figure out what to do with all that pastry (I am loathe to throw food out, ever, if I can help it).  As such, I started to dream up these little pockets of tasty goodness with the help of some friends (namely, my good friends Jim and Helen for affirming my hunches on flavourings. Thanks friends!)


(makes about 1 dozen spanobeetikas)

1 1/2  small-to-medium sized beets

1 large carrot

1 cup chopped spinach

3 cloves garlic

1 shallot

1 Tbsp butter

1 tsp caraway seeds

2 tsp lemon juice

1/3 cup goat cheese

salt and pepper to taste

*Optional: Chopped Walnuts

Phyllo Pastry


1. Turn oven on to 350 F.

2. Grate beets and carrot, mince garlic and slice shallot, wash and chop spinach.

3. Melt butter in a saucepan, saute shallot, garlic, and caraway for about 2 minutes taking care not to brown the garlic and shallot, add lemon juice.

4. Add grated beets and carrot and cook on medium heat for another 2 or 3 minutes. (at this stage, I added just a dash of water and a dash of olive oil to my sauce pan so the veg would cook better and wouldn’t stick to the pan)

5. Add chopped spinach, goat cheese, and season with salt and pepper to taste. (*add walnuts here) Stir occasionally until spinach is wilted.

6. Prep phyllo according to package directions for triangle pockets.

7. Once you have folded your phyllo pockets into triangles, I brushed each of them once over again with butter and sprinkled each with a bit of salt.

8. Pop into the oven for 10 minutes, or until the pockets are golden brown.

9. Enjoy!

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Mindful Eating

This Lent, my partner Nicole and I have (loosely) committed to some different eating practices. Even though we love food in our house, it’s true that we don’t always take the time to savour our meals (there are lots of lunches I spend eating in front of the computer while doing research for Sunday’s sermon, or even less productively checking Facebook on my lunch hour, and there are suppers where we opt to eat while watching a favourite show on Netflix rather than paying attention to each other, or our food). And although we say grace in our household for both lunches and dinners (breakfast is awfully early for me to feel anything other than tired…) it’s not always easy to break myself out of habits that keep me paying attention to things other than what is right in front of me–my wife, my food and drink, my body. So, we’ve decided to slow things down in our household this Lent.  This Lent, we’re aiming to practice Mindful Eating.

Mindful Eating has largely and recently been brought to the attention of Westerners by Thich Nhat Hanh and Dr. Lilian W.Y. Cheung in their book Savorand has had a growing presence in professional dietitians circles through The Center for Mindful Eating. However, mindful eating has been a spiritual practice in many religions, including Christianity, for centuries.

The general notions behind Mindful Eating are to be present to the food we eat before, during, and after our meals; to be present to our bodies before, during, and after our meals; to practice gratitude for the gift of life that has been given in our food and that gives us  life through the act of eating; and to be present to our surroundings, including our other meal companions. Sometimes this means that communities who practice mindful eating together don’t talk during their meal and simply enjoy the company of others in silence, while other times, people are encouraged to talk and share as they feel comfortable, but to be aware of their companions and their interactions with them.

This is a short, introductory video by Thich Nhat Hanh explaining some of the practices of mindful eating: 

I have found my now two weeks of sometimes mindful eating to be truly eye-opening. Nicole and I ate a spinach salad for lunch last week that I was really excited about, until we started to eat. I realized that I had put way too much salad dressing on my salad–that I wanted to taste the flavours of the carrots and the peppers, and I just couldn’t fully savour the textures and tastes of those veggies underneath all that ranch dressing! I also realized that spinach is really, really gross when you eat it slowly, which is something that made me quite sad. Normally, I love spinach, but after a few mouthfuls of slowly chewed spinach that was first chalky, then bitter in my mouth, I longed for the salad dressing that seemed to be stuck to my carrots only. Other things, like soups (blended soups, mostly) I’ve found difficult to eat mindfully because the texture is all the same. It’s been difficult to pay deep attention to each spoonful when it feels a little monotonous after a while.

However, there have also been some really lovely moments, too. Like realizing that barley has the most amazing textures and tastes when I slow down to eat. Appreciating the textures and colours of foods with all my senses–exploring food with my tongue, my fingers, my lips…eating is a sensory experience, and even an erotic one at times. And just simply feeling grateful for even that realization that food is a gift that brings on emotions and memories has been something wonderful to celebrate.

So maybe you’ll want to try your own practice of Mindful Eating? There are lots of resources out there (Savor by Thich Nhat Hanh and The Center for Mindful Eating are just two places to start)–perhaps even just taking a moment to practice this Raisin Meditation with a raisin, a chocolate, or even a cup of tea will start to broaden your awareness of the connections that already exist between you and the rest of Creation, and the Giver of Life that works through each of us.

Blessings on your journey!

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A Month of Pretzels

pretzel jan 5

So…we go from a month of soups to a month of pretzels, it seems! First, let me explain:

Back in the fall, Nicole and I agreed to lead a day-long Lenten preparation retreat at the Tatamagouche Centre on February 9th called Eat-Pray-Lent (if you’d like to come join us, you can register on the website linked above–shameless advertising, I know…). We were kind of handed the title, but told we could change it if we wanted. But something about the fusion of those three words stuck out to us (or at least me!). What a wonderful way to explore the relationships between faith and food and my relationships to those intersections! And what better way to dig into the potential beauty of the church season of Lent than to go at it head long, walking with and guiding others along the way?

So for the past month, I’ve been reading up on the topics of food and faith (in fact, the two main books I’ve been reading are both called Food and Faith–check out Food and Faith: A Theology of Eating here, and Food and Faith: justice, joy, and daily bread here. Both books may get a review on this blog later this month).  What has come home to me time and again as I’ve read and reflected, baked, cooked, and ate over the past month has been what an amazing and complex practice eating is in and of itself: when I bake or cook something, I’m making it from ingredients that I or someone else has grown–perhaps right next door to me, or hundreds of thousands of miles away. Plant, animal, either way–life has been sacrificed in some way so that I may eat, so that I might live–and not just live, but have life abundantly. (There’s also the back slap of this revelation however–how many people have given of their own land and time and life so that I might have life in excess rather than abundance while they themselves are underpaid, overworked, and under nourished? And what do I do about that…?) And then there’s the experience of eating itself–the textures, the colours, the flavours, the memories this food conjures inside me, and the memories created around this meal. What a gift this food is to me. It’s not just fuel–it opens me up to something more.

Which leads me to pretzels. Pretzels themselves were once considered to be “spiritual food”! One of the tales told about the origin of pretzels is that of an Italian monk who created the bread during the season of Lent for his brother monks to eat. During the six-week period of Lent that leads up to Easter, Catholics were traditionally called to fast from eggs, meat, fat, and dairy products (which really didn’t leave you with a whole lot of options for tasty food, in my opinion!). So this monk made a simple dough out of water, flour, and salt, rolled the dough into strips of rope, and folded the ropes in the shape of the pretzels we know today to mimic the traditional prayer stance of the day of arms folded over one’s chest. He called the breads bracchiola, which is Latin for “little arms”, and gave them to his fellow monks as a way for them to pray, even as they ate.

Because I find cooking and baking to be a spiritual practice, (not to mention eating!) I’m hoping that we will be baking pretzels during our Eat-Pray-Lent retreat. As such, I’ve committed to a month of pretzel baking to try out different recipes to find the easiest, most Lenten recipe I can find (which actually isn’t easy. Most pretzel recipes these days have gone for the good tastes of milk, eggs, and butter rather than stick with the traditional fasting food pretzels once were). Here is the recipe I made today which got rave reviews from my neighbours (pictured at the top of this post) from author Danielle Bean’s blog:

1 Tablespoon honey or sugar
1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
1 envelope active dry yeast
1 teaspoon salt
4 cups flour
Coarse salt
1 egg beaten
*(I skipped the egg bit and used a traditional water and baking soda bath instead to make these the most Lenten pretzels I could. The bath was 1 cup water to 2 tsps baking soda, brought to a temperature of 110F.)

Add the honey to the water; sprinkle in the yeast and stir until dissolved. Add 1 tsp salt. Blend in the flour, and knead the dough till smooth.

Cut the dough into pieces. Roll them into ropes and twist into pretzels shapes.

If you are going with the egg:

Place the pretzels on lightly greased cookie sheets and brush them with the beaten egg and sprinkle with salt.

If you are going with the soda bath:

Use a large slotted spatula or spoon to dip pretzels in the bath. Place dipped pretzels on parchment paper on a baking sheet, or on a preheated baking stone (this is important because otherwise your pretzels will stick to your pans like you won’t believe, even if you’ve greased them well).

Bake at 425 degrees F for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown.

While most pretzel recipes are pretty much the same, I promise to report back on any more recipes I’ve found that are worth trying. In the meantime, I hope these pretzels find you contemplating your own connections to this marvelous world and all the beings within it.



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Margarine vs. Shortening–the debate continues

Margarine vs shortening, butter vs. shortening, butter vs. margarine…the debate continues. What do you use when?

This was the question I asked myself tonight as I began to whip up a batch of my famous Brown Eyed Susan cookies. The recipe called for margarine, but my margarine was in the fridge and I really didn’t have the patience to bring it to room temperature in order to cream, but I did have vegetable shortening at room temperature that was right within reach, so…

I measured out all the ingredients for my cookies, creamed the shortening with the sugar and other ingredients, added in the flour and mixed but…something just didn’t feel right. For some reason, the dough was just dry dust.

But wait! It wasn’t for just any reason! I took to the internet to find out whether shortening could be interchanged with margarine (up until this point in my baking life, I had just assumed it could, I know that’s a terrible confession to make), and found out there are actually good reasons to use shortening in some recipes and margarine/butter in others. And if you haven’t, well, there are ways to try to make things better.

According to Crisco, shortening has no water in it, while margarine and butter are about 85% fat and 15% water. The water in the butter and the margarine seems to make all the difference–cookies made with butter/margarine may be softer and spread out more, while (obviously) pastry made with shortening will be flakier than pastry made with butter/margarine. Most times (other than in no-bake cookies, candies, and fudge where you really need to use butter/margarine because of the melting points of margarine and butter) it won’t matter too much whether you substitute shortening or margarine for the other in recipes for cakes or breads.

If you do make the substitution of shortening for margarine/butter, you may need to add more liquid to your recipe in order to compensate for the extra liquid in the butter/margarine. Take a look at this handy-dandy table from Crisco on how much water to add if you’ve used shortening in place of margarine.

After this discovery, I fixed the shortening recipe with the amount of liquid required by the Crisco website, and decided to make two batches of cookies–one with shortening, and one with the traditional margarine–to see which one I liked more. My vote? Well, the margarine cookies were way easier to roll and flatten, and the shortening cookies just seemed like little bricks to me. But the taste? Mmmm, I think I’ve come down on the side of shortening over margarine. I can taste the full flavours of the cookie more than the margarine-base shortbread, and the texture is less grainy. I may have just become a new shortening convert…

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You had me at Charcuterie…

Heaven. That’s what eating Chef/Sommelier Claude Aucoin’s Prosciutto was like.

Let me back up–on December 6th, Nicole celebrated her birthday/first anniversary of her ordination to the priesthood, and so we decided to do something special. We’d heard that Sugar Moon Farm was hosting one of their amazing chef’s nights that night, and so we figured what better way to celebrate than to treat ourselves to a dress-up, fancy 5-course meal?

Sugar Moon Farm is a 200 acre family-run maple syrup farm in Earltown, Nova Scotia, just a quick 20 minute drive from our place in Denmark. It’s really one of the biggest tourist attractions on the North Shore (besides Jost Wineries), and includes their restaurant and gift shop (open year round!), hiking trails, and seasonal Sugar Camp tours. I had yet to have even been to Sugar Moon yet before this evening, mostly because their hours also happen to collide with church stuff for most of the year (Saturdays and Sundays), so that makes it hard to get out. But we found that their Chef’s Nights–a few evenings throughout the year where select chefs from around the Maritimes are invited to come and showcase their talents amongst the atmosphere of great music and a rustic cabin setting–work almost perfectly with our schedules!

Tickets for a Chef’s Night ranged between $89.70 (this includes 15% gratuity and taxes, but you have to buy all your own drinks) to $125.46 (15% gratuity and taxes, and wine pairing with three of the courses, and maple-inspired cocktail of your choice, plus coffee or tea). So, Nicole and I got all dolled up (and I mean seriously dressed to the nines here) to go out for supper, and found out we were perhaps the best dressed people at the party (not always a bad thing, but in this case, I felt a little weird about that. Here I was in my tight, low-cut black dress in the same room as folks who were wearing their cozy plaid lumberjack shirts and jeans. While each of us looked equally awesome, perhaps the plaid lumberjack look made a little more sense in the sugar camp…). However, the rest of the folks at our table were also fairly dresses up, so we weren’t totally out of place.

The ambiance at Sugar Moon that night was wonderful. Quita Gray, one of the owners of Sugar Moon greeted us at the door and immediately asked us if we’d ever been to a Chef’s Night or Sugar Moon before. When we said no, she showed us around the Restaurant a bit, took our coats, escorted us to our table and introduced us to the people we were sitting with, and even checked in on us through the night! The space was lit by candle light from the beautiful table centerpieces (white votive candles in rose bowls with salt, surrounded by fir boughs), and the roaring fire in the fireplace in front of us (the one problem with the low-lit room was that our camera didn’t work very well, so there are sadly no pictures of our food). And instead of chairs, each table had benches on either side to give the space the feel of a camp kitchen.

So, the food! The menu for December 6th’s Chef’s Night went as such:

Hors d’Oeuvres on homemade croutons

Artisanal Breads served with Carrot Maple Butter and Red Wine Butter

Claude’s Homemade Charcuterie Plate (including Pork Loin Prosciutto, Air Dried Beef and Assorted Pâtés and Terrines; Maple and Cranberry Mustard, Cucumber Relish, Yellow Pepper Ketchup)

Evangeline Seafood Chowder (with an Assortment of Local Fish and Seafood) or creamy Asparagus soup (for those with fish allergies like me…)

Oulton’s Farm Roasted Spiced Rubbed Chicken Breast, Port, Maple and Herb Jus, Pulled BBQ Chicken Leg served on Creamy Polenta with Fall Roasted Vegetables

Flourless Chocolate Cake with 70% Dark Chocolate and Raspberry Mousse Quince Crème Anglaise, Maple Blueberry Coulis and Strawberry Rhubarb Sorbet served on gingerbread

And the review? Well, the food was amazing–especially the pork loin prosciutto. Oh my heavens, I have never had prosciutto that melted in my mouth the way Chef Aucoin’s prosciutto did. In fact, the entire charcuterie plate was fantastic (it helps that this is one of his specialties!)–the beef terrine was perhaps my second favourite, with my least favourite going to the air dried beef which was just too salty for my tastes. However, by we were starting to be full by the end of the soup course, and by the time the entree rolled around, neither Nicole or I thought we could manage to eat much of anything on our plates. And so, our biggest complaint?–portion size.

If the soup course had been a smaller serving, or if the charcuterie plate had had less on it, or if there hadn’t been any bread course at all, then maybe we could’ve managed to enjoy our dessert. As it was, by the time our desserts arrived, we were uncomfortably full. Now I know you could say we could’ve just eaten less of everything, which is true. But when there is that much on your charcuterie plate and it all tastes amazing, why wouldn’t you finish your course?

Our only other complaint–there was a serious lack of veggies. I was lucky because I couldn’t eat the chowder due to my salmon allergy (so I had a creamy Asparagus soup instead), but otherwise, the only veggies we got were in the butters (try convincing a dietitian that was a serving of vegetables!), in the small serving of roasted veg, and in the creamy broccoli polenta.

All in all, it was a wonderful evening of melt-in-my-mouth flavours and sensations, friendly atmosphere, and good drinks (the maple-inspired cocktails are totally worth it!). Even though I’ve spent today scrambling to fill up on vegetables whenever I see them, I would definitely go back to another Chef Aucoin’s Chef’s Night at Sugar Moon.

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Lazy Citrus Salt

This may be my new obsession…

lazy-citrus-saltFor the past few weeks, I’ve had a series of small bowls living at the end of my counter. They each contain a different citrus salt: grapefruit, blood orange, Meyer lemon, Kaffir lime. The levels of each go up and down as I juice a lemon, or eat a grapefruit, and add zest and salt to the pile, or pull out a pinch of the fragrant zest to add to a soup, curry or batch of scones.

It may seem disingenuous to call this process “lazy” when most people simply throw away citrus peels. But honestly: that’s just silly. There are about a million great uses for citrus peel, and as long as you have a good zester, this is one of the easiest. And while a dedicated batch of citrus salt doesn’t exactly break the bank, time & effort-wise, this method works much better with the citrus season rituals…

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