Farewell (for now) to a fallen friend

Please note, the following events are real and not intended for the faint of heart.

There has been a casualty at seven spoons.

A stalwart ally, a reliable provider and an invaluable assistant has been lost. After serving valiantly for seven long years, my KitchenAid Stand Mixer may have beaten its last batter.

This is the story of our last moments together.

It was a busy afternoon when I came to the idea of some impromptu, yet slightly complicated, baking. Usually when undertaking such an endeavour I set aside a bit of time, counter space and attention to the work at hand. However on this day while I already had a full schedule, I felt compelled to take on the project as it was a gesture of thanks to a dear friend. I thought it was only one more thing to do; surely I could multitask my way through the my to-do list.

I should have known better.

I was considering dinner, amusing a toddler in his highchair, then amusing a toddler as he perched on my hip as I prepped my ingredients. Sifting flour with overly impatient vigour sent a powdery cloud over my cookbook, the floor and the aforementioned toddler. With military precision and brisk pace, I measured, scooped, poured and set out the rest of my mise. With my little battalion lined up and ready to jump into the fray, I began.

Cream together butter and sugar. Such simple words of action, the mantra of any seasoned baker, little did I know that they would spell such tragedy.

I moved to set the Mixer to medium-high. After four clicks along the left lever, I was greeted by the familiar whir of the paddle attachment making its way around the gleaming stainless bowl. Benjamin and I watched as the Mixer made quick work of smoothing out the softened butter; after only a few moments dandelion colour turned to straw, pliant and yielding under the blade. The lever was switched back to its first position, and the Mixer slowed for a momentary rest. After attentively scraping down the sides, I added the granulated sugar and firm-packed brown to the bowl.

With a deft flick of the finger, such a trifling gesture really, the Mixer was woken once more; it moved from its slumber back to four-notch action. It was then that I turned my back to attend to the peek-a-boo demands of my other kitchen help. Caught in mid peek, I heard the Mixer gasp, then strain. I whipped around, immediately reaching for the suddenly-elusive lever; but it was too late. As I lunged, the straining turned to a rattle and the Mixer seized.

I peered inside the bowl - in the midst of a silken cream of sweetened butter there was something else; something now firmly wedged between the paddle and the edge of the bowl.

In my military precision, I evidently lapsed in my military attention to detail. While scooping the brown sugar, I missed a hard lump. About the size of a ping-pong ball, what by all accounts seems a inconsequential size, it was able to take down my steely workhorse.

The Mixer had seen me through countless celebrations; holidays, birthdays, consoler of battles lost and hearalder of battles won. It has stood by me from university to career changes, through relationships to marriage and motherhood and followed me on four moves. A constant presence in a blur of activity.

The estimated time of death was 3:21 p.m.

Epilogue: My dear Sean, fan of the Mixer, has promised to find a specialist to assess the situation. In the meantime, its brother, one Mr. Burr Coffee Grinder is holding vigil on the counter. The Mixer is also survived by Food Processor and Artisan Blender. We still have hopes to one day expand our family to include Ice Cream Attachment.

At this moment, one year ago ...

... our lives completely changed. And for that, we could not be more thankful. Happy Birthday, bundle of boy.

Happy Halloween!

I hope your treat bags are stuffed to the brim.

A moment in the sun

It seems just yesterday it was spring and I was preoccupied with thoughts of pillows of ricotta and berries; yet the calendar tells another tale. Somehow four months have slipped by, each day feeling all too short.

I have been caught in a whirlwind of family, friends and new motherhood. Learning how to function in each of those roles, all the while furtively attempting to hold on to each precious moment of the lessons.

And suddenly, it is August.

Broad, blue skies are lit with late-summer sunshine. My meagre potted garden has exploded in riotous green. The frenzied pace of high summer has abated, along with its still heat.

Evidently tempered by the relatively moderate weather, my thoughts (even if not my schedule) have slowed to an easygoing lull. Whether it is the season, or sheer exhasution, this shift in pace has allowed me a moment to reflect and gather my thoughts before we move forward.

While eloquence seems to be called for, all I can do is take it all in and smile.

I’ll be posting a list, with recipes and links, of some of the dishes that have kept us busy. I promise you will not have to wait as long as the last time.

An introduction is in order

[Please note that the following post has been put up by me, Tara's brother, and that any errors herein are entirely my fault, I am too happy to be particularly accurate right now]

After nine months, three seasons and countless conversations, I do believe that it is time to drop some of the formality. And truly, the veil of anonymity I’ve been affording my friends and family has been gossamer at best.

First and foremost, let me present my dear S, otherwise known as my dear Sean. With whom, if you’re reading this, I have just welcomed our first child.

It seems the forces of the universe thought it would be an amusing coincidence that just as I was conceiving the idea for seven spoons, that it would be the opportune time for us to start our family as well. So as this endeavour has grown, so has my belly.

The decision to keep this impending arrival a secret has been a difficult one. Please forgive the secrecy, but as I was attempting to establish some sort of identity through cooking, I was also attempting to find some sense of self as an expectant mother.

With no possible way of hiding our news any longer, I can finally come clean over some of the lapses in updating - as Morning Sickness made its appearance around our household morning and night, or cravings had me eating steak weekly and avoiding chicken like the plague, or when my quest for blue cheese took me away from the computer.

I’ll be sure to fill you all in on the entertaining details in the coming months, along with our forays into cultivating this whole new palate at our table.

My gratitude goes out to all of you visited seven spoons, and those who have written. The comments, suggestions and friendships have been so much more than I could have hoped for. It is truly overwhelming.

I cannot express my gratitude to our parents, families and friends; how lucky we are to have such unconditional love in our lives.

I’ll talk to you all soon and until then, take care.

[Benjamin Thomas was born on January 16th at 2:28 a.m. EST, weighs 6 lbs 3 oz and is absolutely adorable. I'm sure Tara will have more details ASAP.]