As part of my contribution to the “Free Piglet” campaign, here is the first in a series of -based recipes that I’ve either come across or come up with in the last little while.

This one is a little recipe that I came up with a few years back after I first moved to for a summer workterm. It was just a variation on the same-ol’ same-ol’ pasta-sauce-with-ground-beef recipe that I was getting bored with, and for a student diet it worked rather well.  It’s become a personal “comfort dish”.

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Ingredients
* keep in mind that these are approximate measures. I almost never use any sort of measuring utensil or container if I am not making something that involves the use of flour.

Meat & Marinade:

  • 1 or 2 pork cutlets
  • 1/4 cup wine (cooking wine will do, real stuff is better)
  • 1/8 cup olive oil

Sauce:

Cooking:

1. Thaw pork cutlets overnight. In the morning, slice thinly and place in a bowl. Pour wine and oil over pork and quickly mix the liquid into the meat with your hands. It takes only a few minutes, and lets the meat marinate all day. Refrigerate.

2. That evening, half-fill a medium-sized pot with water and set to boil. Add a touch of salt.

3. Finely chop onions and garlic and simmer in olive oil in a pan. Add marinated meat (including liquid). Continue to simmer on medium heat.

4. Chop or semi-liquify tomatoes and add to pan once the pork slices have started to cook through. Dice mushrooms and add to mixture a minute or so later.

5. If you’ve timed it right, the water should have reached a rolling boil right about now, so quickly add noodles to the water and reduce heat. Cover the meat and tomatoes and let simmer.

6. Once noodles begin to soften, chop green pepper and add to meat and tomatoes (which should be taking on sauce-like qualities now. Add water if sauce begins to reduce. Reduce heat on sauce and add basil (generously), greek seasoning, and sugar (sparingly — just enough to take the edge off the acid of the tomatoes). Cover and reduce heat to low.

7. Drain noodles when ready. Serve noodles onto plate(s) and cover with sauce.


In the aftermath of the weekend, I always find myself reflecting on…well, to be truthfully honest, I find myself reflecting on more than I want to, a problem I attribute to the tendency of my mind to wander just beyond the fringes of my control when I’m a little tired (or a little inebriated). And this Day was no different.

It helps, or perhaps doesn’t help — I’ve never figured out which — that those fireworks make me just a touch sad. I don’t know why, but they make me feel quite suddenly alone. Maybe it’s the fact that the one time I’ve tried to watch the Canada Day fireworks with someone else in the past four years, they started the fireworks early because of weather considerations, and we wound up missing the show. I usually watch the Canada Day fireworks alone. In 2002 and 2004, it was because I had moved away to , and this year it was because and Anne were on their way to to sleep over at a friend’s place there before catching a morning flight to . 2003 was the year we missed the show.

And I can reflect forever on old mistakes, because that’s just how I am. Should I have been in Rocky both those times? Maybe, maybe not. It’s hard to say. I can’t even remember why I was in Rocky on Canada Day last year, although I think it had something to do with the fact that the guy I was catching a ride back to with wasn’t planning to leave until the 2nd, the next day. When you don’t own your own car, you kind of find yourself subject to the whims and fancies of others who are willing to drive you, and you really can’t complain about it. And I’m not complaining that Rob wanted to wait a day at all. I just question my wisdom in taking the second work stint in Rocky.

Did I need the experience? Coming off of getting fired from , a little reconstruction of my resume was perhaps in order. So in that sense, it was a good thing. Plus that, it helped pay for my schooling, which is something else. You know, I’m not rich, nor am I from a wealthy family, and though my parents and grandparents did set up a GIC or two for me back when I was an infant, the majority of my paying for school was made possible through summer jobs and scholarships. But thanks to those jobs and scholarships, I’ve been able to avoid going into debt, for the most part (credit cards don’t count, right?). But though it helped out with the work experience picture and paid for another 8 months of my degree, was it the right choice? In the end, I can’t say it was — too much collateral damage to the relationships I cherished, to the people I loved.

But I could flog myself over that forever if I wanted to. What I’ve really gotten to reflecting on these past few days is why we celebrate Canada in Canada Day. Because that’s what we do — it’s not just a commemorative ceremony for our becoming a nation unto ourselves in . We celebrate Canada, and what it means to be Canadian. Don’t believe me? Listen to any speech given that day, or any media correspondent commenting on the celebrations. But what, lately, is there to celebrate about being Canadian?

We have a minority government that for a week ruled completely without the confidence of the House, and in the end probably only survived a by postponing it until midnight and not telling the Opposition s that the vote would be held then. That’s a legal parlimentary tactic under the , by the way. At the same time, this government doesn’t even represent the will of its constituents, and forges ahead with its own vision of Canada that in many respects is at odds with what the people want. Take the recent legislation: don’t know about you, but every web poll I’ve come across seems to suggest that a discernible majority of Canadians don’t think it’s a good idea, and I have to say I’m one of them. But does that stop our government? A top Cabinet minister resigns because he and his constituents oppose this legislation, but does THAT stop our government? Not at all — instead, the dissenters (who may have valid reasons for opposing the legislation, reasons worth considering) are criticized and branded as bigots, and the legislation is rammed through. This is a government that has consistently set itself at odds not only with itself, but with the people it purports to govern, and in the process they are changing the very fabric of the nation itself. And the judges of the are no better.

And so now, as the Americans celebrate their independence, I find myself wondering exactly why last Friday millions of people across Canada came to celebrate their nation, a nation increasingly not their own. For myself, I was already sad enough watching the fireworks, and eventually I turned and went home. There’s precious little to celebrate about anymore. The Americans have something to celebrate — that is clear. The American people have much more power in their government, and can recall elected representatives that they find have strayed from executing the will of the electorate. Remember ?

But then, the Americans also celebrate something different on their national holiday. They celebrate their independence. They celebrate where they came from, not just what they have become. We in Canada seem to have forgotten that.

Heaven

April 27, 2005

The last time I was in , back in 2002, I wrote a couple paragraphs in response to an email my friend Greg Malone sent me. I just wanted to toss it up here to share it with everyone, because even after two years I find it still rings true for me.

I used the thrilling experience of asking out for the first time as a metaphor for something even greater - what Heaven is like.

is like…well, here’s a metaphor. The gates
of heaven are like those precious thirty feet between
the doors of the church I go to on campus and the
bus-stop bench she’s sitting on. The walk to the
gates, to St. Pete or whoever the doorman is, is like
the walk across those thirty feet, heart in your
throat. Will she say yes? Will she say no? (Am I in
the book? Am I……not?)

The gates are the question, that second of tenseness
before the answer.

And admission is her first smile, that tentative
“Yeah, I’d like that.” waves you in,and
you’re home free.

Heaven is that moment of relief when you drag yourself
through the door of your house at nine-thirty at night
after being on campus for fourteen(!) straight hours
and your sister hands you a piece of paper on it to
say that the girl you love called and wants you to
call her back before eleven. Heaven is waking up to
the smell of pancakes and bacon. Heaven that feeling
of new strength you get when you’ve had it with
homework, turn on the radio, lie back…and hear your
favourite song in the entire WORLD(!) that pushes you
back to your paper and pencil…and within minutes
there’s the answer. Heaven is having to take the bus
because your bike is busted and running into an old
friend at the bus-stop that you would have otherwise
missed.
Heaven is casual walks, soft words of love, your
favourite foods, those precious few minutes of rest in
an otherwise hectic day…and Heaven is greater than
all those things put together. Heaven is light in the
darkness, but not the kind of light that hurts the
eyes because it shines so bright so suddenly. Heaven
is the lights you can see through the dark forest;
your friends coming to look for you, or the campfire
you know they’ll all be sitting around.

Heaven is the perfection we strive for in this world,
but can only attain through acknowledging our
imperfections and trying to better them. Heaven is
attained not in spite of our errors, but because of
them; because we can be forgiven if we only ask.

It was a good van…

July 5, 2004

I guess I would just like to say that occasionally, I’m very glad I listen to my parents.

So I left work a little early on Friday night and caught a ride from to with a friend from work. I got to the Red Deer station just before 5:00 PM and caught the bus north to there, saving myself roughly 2 hours that evening in travel time (normally, with the Greyhound link between Rocky and Red Deer, I’d have caught the 7:50 PM bus). With my extra time that evening, I decided to see Spider Man II.

I am glad for three things that evening. One, I am glad that I listened to my parents suggestion about which vehicle to take. Two, I’m really glad I did go to see this movie, and that I did get into the accident I did on the way home. Three, I’m glad my sister Carmen decided NOT to go to the movie with me.

When I was driving home, I saw this tow truck on the side of the road ahead, and it pulled out onto the street to tow one of the stalled cars in the left lane. There were two or three of them, stalled out by having driven through a deep puddle (Edmonton got torrential rain that night while I was watching the Webhead) on the road. By the time I got there, the puddle was much shallower, and so I drove through it without difficulty.
The cars in front of me slowed to a stop to let the tow truck out onto the road, and I came to a stop behind them. About three seconds later, what turned out to be a slammed into the back of my van, at a speed that I can’t get a straight figure on at this time (my guess is 80 km/h).

You can take a look here for pictures of the van and some slightly blurry photos of the newspaper article about the crash. Suffice it to say that the van was a write-off.

Concerning one above, I’m glad I listened to my parents and took the van. Personally, I prefer to drive their Oldsmobile Intrigue sedan, but looking at the damage the van took, I can see that I would have been hurt much more severely if I hadn’t been driving it. As it is, I’m pretty sore in the neck and back, and I don’t think I’ll go in to work tomorrow. If I’d been in the sedan…well, might just have to have gone in the Graveyard on Dino’s Page.

Concerning two above, I’m glad that I was there because the car in front of me was a sedan, and the lady driving it got some whiplash when my van was pushed into the back of her car by the force of the impact (her car, in turn, was pushed into the back of another car - there was A LOT of energy release!). I can’t imagine the damage she’d have taken if my van there. I’m pretty sore, and moving pretty slowly. My girlfriend (a nurse) was in tears and she could tell (despite my attempts to put on the typical “I’m Okay” facade) that I was hurting. I am glad that Carmen doesn’t have to go through this with me.

I get frustrated when I try to think about what the other driver was doing. I mean, there had to be seven cars, plus a tow truck (with flashing lights) all stopped in both lanes of this road. I can see how the stalled cars in the left lane might not be visible (no brake lights), but all of us in the right lane were still on, and on our breaks…that should be a fair amount of light, right?

So how is it that someone just pins it coming down that (wet and slippery!) street, and is most probably accelerating, or just barely starting to brake (I heard a squeal that was either tires or brakes for only a second, at most, before the impact), when they hit me pretty much dead-centre? Did they not see us? Were they not watching? Were they inebriated?
And if any of the above…how is it that they were not charged with something?

Well, this thing will play out as it plays out. Drive safe, peoples out there. Drive safe and watch out for other folks on the road.