Christmas Round-Up 2014


I thought my generous amount of time off for Christmas would be an excellent opportunity to catch up on all the blog posts I hadn’t gotten around to writing during my first couple weeks of work. I pictured nice play-by-plays of all of the extravagant meals I would have planned, complete with pictures taken by an actual camera, and some of my favourite gluten-free Christmas recipes. What actually happened was that we all got sick, every day just flew by, and I cooked a lot but didn’t take a single photo because I was either up to my elbows in raw turkey carcass and my kitchen was in a state of perpetual disaster, or because I really wanted to relax and enjoy my family and our holidays instead of worrying about taking pictures of sautéed brussels sprouts.


For the most part, my food turned out great. I did a dry brine on my turkey because I was cooking dinner at my aunt’s, and we didn’t arrive at her house until Christmas Eve. The beauty of the dry brine is that it can be done in as little as 8 hours (as opposed to three days – see Thanksgiving post). I made a simple mixture of kosher salt, pepper, sage, and garlic; gave the bird a nice massage with it, and then put it in the fridge and headed off to church. The unappealing aspect of this method is that general wisdom suggests leaving the turkey in your fridge uncovered in order for the skin to dry out (leading to crispier skin when roasting), meaning you have to clear quite a wide berth in order to keep stray limbs from brushing up on any other food in your fridge (and obviously there is tons because you are cooking a turkey dinner). I don’t know why I have this obsession with getting crispy golden skin on my turkeys when not a single person in my family eats it. In the end I preferred the results of the traditional liquid brine, its flavour edged out the dry brine in terms of both meat and gravy.

I think the best way for me to summarize my holidays, culinary events and other, is to make a list a la Bridget Jones’ Diary. This is a broader picture of what went down from the 19th of December to the 4th of January, in no particular order.


CHRISTMAS ROUND-UP (stats apply to my immediate family only)

Sisters home from vet school/the coldest place in the world, thus signifying the beginning of Christmas: 1

Oven fires: 1

Family Members Sick: 3 out of 4, plus Grandma

Days added onto vacay because of illness, collectively: 5

Hospital Visits: 3

Shopping done by my father: none

Turkeys fully cooked on first try: 0

Meat thermometers functioning on Christmas day: 0

Bottles of red wine consumed: unknown

Boxes of Purdy’s given/received: 18 and 16, respectively.

Sugar cookies iced with icing made of raw egg whites that I then fed to my elderly grandparents and other extended family members, later learning that the eggs were also a month older than their expiration date: roughly 50

Pounds of butter used over course of holiday: unknown

Watched National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation: twice

Watched Love Actually with my Grandma: once, awkwardly

Tarts consumed (butter and maid-of-honor varieties): approx. 6 dozen

Family Christmas Bingo 2014 winners: Frankincense and Moore (1st), Polar Baras Express/FrostBlights (2nd), and The Cousin Eddies (3rd). Great success.

Short term/permanent grudges formed as result of FCB ‘14: 0

Blind dates: 1

Ferries taken (one-way trips): 10 human fares plus 2 car fares ($260 value)

Flights taken (single flights): 11 (Kiewit incurred costs, in addition to unknown amounts of cash and airmiles expended)

Flights rescheduled to accommodate sick family members: 1

Dog fights: 1

Beautiful, heavy-duty professional All-Clad pans gifted to Alex: 1!!!

As you can see, it was a very good Christmas for the Priers. I hope yours was great too; that you ate with abandon and watched Love Actually sans grandmother. Happy New Year!


My First Thanksgiving: A Novella


I come from a large family of adventurous eaters. For the great majority of us, excluding myself, there is no such thing as too spicy or too aged. I’m generally the only one to abide by the old “When in Rome” mentality of ordering fish and chips at the fish and chips joint- my mom will have the moussaka, thanks.

Except for holidays. On holidays our preferences run more toward the fiercely traditional, almost militant, idea of what turkey dinner should look like. Particularly if certain uncles are invited. There are no variations, no substitutions. For it to be truly pure, my grandmother, Kay, must prepare the bulk of it (or at least all of the things that aren’t just boiled vegetables. And they can only be boiled.)

Over the last couple of years my diet has presented a number of challenges to our holiday table that have really rocked the family to its core (I’m talking to you  Uncle G). The contents of the stuffing. The thickening of the gravy. The flake of the pumpkin pie crust. Changing them? What are we all doing here? What is the meaning of life? At first we were making all separate stuff just for me, to preserve the integrity of the Official Turkey Dinner for the sake of the rest of the family. But it was just too much work, so we had to switch everyone over. Sacred side dishes were now being altered on my behalf; suddenly no one was safe from my soggy stuffing.

But then my mom and I figured it out and it’s awesome again and nobody knows the difference.

I am a big fan of trying new recipes and cooking techniques. Especially when I’m entertaining. Unknown result + guests? So fun! I’m pretty sure Kay has actual nightmares about this. But seeing as I was in charge of Thanksgiving this year and was feeling emboldened by my Uncle Gord’s absence, and the fact there were only going to be 13 victims at the table, I thought I would switch it up and try some all-new recipes to see if maybe there were some traditional items that could be tweaked.


My first ambition was to brine my turkey. This initial compromise of the main event itself, a bird I christened Ted Baker (after the host of my favourite food network show, Chopped) was immediately met with resistance from the team. At least three times, my dad begged “don’t do itttttttt,” when I mentioned my big plans. I finally asked him why and he said “… because my mom never did.” Huh. Leah took a more aggressive “NO, Al. NO.” but couldn’t give even a reason as legit as my father’s. I was partially stalled by this opposition, and by the fact that the brine required 72 hours soaking time (my personal hesitation was more to do with poisoning the whole family than breaking with tradition). I knew my grandma would just drop dead if she knew. She has poultry paranoia. But I was more curious than scared, and soon Ted was well on his way to brine-dom.


The The Menu/Verdict:

Ted himself turned out very tasy. I didn’t notice a very different flavour in the meat from having soaked it with the vegetables/herb/seasoning mixture, but other people said they did. For this reason, I probably wouldn’t bother with the 3-day brine again, but I will do a dry brine next time or just a 24-hr one. What did make it worth it was that I got incredible gravy out of that thing. I was a little worried when Ted came out of the oven and it didn’t look like I was gonna have a ton of dark drippings to work with, but it was seriously flavourful. So I’d brine again just for that.


Showtime!!! Unfortunately somewhere along the way I lost a bit of Ted’s skin.

DSC_1424Cornbread Stuffing with Bacon, Onions, and Apple (Food52)

The reason I chose it over the 4,350 other cornbread recipes on the internet is because the recipe for the actual cornbread didn’t include flour, so I knew that my final product would be the same as Food52’s. I was hesitant to rely on my old cornbread recipes because then I would need to sub out regular flours for gf and I didn’t want my little cornbread croutons disintegrating into mush once I combined them with all the other ingredients. It was pretty well received but if I made it again I would reduce the bacon and increase the apple. I was going for that Kraft Stove Top vibe and it didn’t quite hit the mark for me. I missed my gran’s Irish potato/bread stuffing that we usually have so I whipped some up the next day to supplement our leftovers (potato stuffing is great if you’re a celiac, and if you’re not. But especially for celiacs. I wonder if it was invented because so many Irish people are celiac and they can’t have Stove Top? Not sure why I’m still so obsessed with boxed stuffing?)


Grilled Brussels Sprouts with Chanterelles (Bon Appetit)

I was excited by the prospect of thick-cut applewood smoked bacon on our Thanksgiving table, so naturally I took it too far and decided to work it into another recipe in addition to the stuffing. These dirtballs (as my family calls them) were a big hit. I sautéed instead of the prescribed grilling, because I just had too many irons in the fire to be running outside tending the barbecue. The mushrooms were beautiful and an exotic addition to the meal. We never have mushrooms at Thanksgiving! Wild.

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Cranberry-Orange Relish with Mint (Bon Appetit)

Those mavericks at Bon Appetit were just a little off with this one. Thankfully I made our traditional cranberry sauce to accompany the experimental one (I’m brave, but not brave enough to face the mob without the classic cranberry sauce that is a nonnegotiable requirement of any turkey dinner at my house.) I thought the relish got luke-warm to positive reviews (I always know when people refer to my cooking as “interesting” or “different” that I’ve missed), but next time I would rather put my energy towards elevating other basic dishes and stick with the recipe on the back of the bag for this one.


Roasted Cauliflower with Parmesan

Because this Thanksgiving was as much about Leah being home for the weekend as it was the holiday, I thought I’d do some fancy cauliflower in her honor. I broke down two heads and spread them out on a cookie sheet to roast away with some sliced onion, garlic cloves, olive oil, S&P, and parmesan cheese. Another unorthodox thanksgiving vegetable! She approved.

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Old Standards

Rounding out the meal we had “Sweet Potato Supreme” (mashed sweet potatoes and yams with a topping of maple syrup, brown sugar, and toasted pecans), carrots, peas, mashed potatoes, and black olives (don’t know why these need to be on the table… they just do).


DSC_1494Dessert: Pecan Pie with Cream Cheese Crust

This was delicious, however at this point we were all dying from such a heavy dinner. The filling was super rich and syrupy and sweet. I had to convert the crust into gf using my trusty Cup4Cup flour, and I thought it could have been a bit more pliable. The dough was very dry when I was rolling it out and I should have known to add more liquid, but I went along with it anyway and it still turned out okay. I would totally do this again and eat less dinner so I could fit more pie.

DSC_1445DSC_1510Bonus Desserts

Kay brought her classic pumpkin pie, which I probably still prefer to, well, pretty much any other food in the world. I also made one batch of buttermilk pecan fudge, which I’ve made several times and is indescribably good. Have you tried crack? It’s crack.

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Success! Overall it was a success. Nobody died from trying new stuffing, or from eating a three-day-thawed turkey, for that matter. I just got my Thanksgiving issue of Bon Appetit and am already planning out my Christmas menu (stay tuned for a spatchcocked bird).


Note: This was so much work! I think about my gran doing it single-handedly with 30+ people coming over… a huge undertaking. As we got closer to sitting down to eat, I had more and more things on the go that needed to be cooked and garnished and steamed and rested and carved. It was a bit of a circus. For this reason, I enlisted the help of Jaime and Daniel to take all photos of the meal and its prep for the blog. I hope you enjoyed their artistic, at times downright avant-garde eye for food photography.

Some of my favourites that didn’t quite make the storyline:

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Bloody Avocado Christmas Tragedy, or That Time a Woman Asked Me “How Old is Your Baby?”

A few nights after Christmas I almost cut my hand off. I took an avocado from the fridge, and it seemed quite firm. I cut it in half, and the meaty part was still hard, almost to the point where I thought it was not ready to use, but I needed guac for the turkey enchiladas I had made to accompany my dad’s ridiculous turkey fried rice. (We were having a cook-off to see who could make the best dish out of left-over turkey. I was in a rush to make the guac because his rice was already done, and my dish had just gone in the oven. Nevermind.)
I then proceeded to take my large chef’s knife and stab the pit so I could pull it out, thinking it too would be rock-hard. Instead I sliced clean through the thing and into my middle finger, and the blood actually sprayed out. Blood is a lot redder and runnier in real life than it is in my head. Like it is really bright and alarming. This was showcased by the Jackson Pollock-style work that was now being displayed across my parent’s white cabinets.
I knew it really hurt even though I couldn’t feel it yet, and apparently I made a little scream noise. My mom’s reaction did not disappoint: she instantaneously whipped around from what she was doing and assessed the situation as being far worse than it was, and then began to reassure me over and over again –in a tone that did not scream confidence- that I wasn’t going to die and that my finger was still attached to my hand (both points being very soothing to me, obviously, as I am her child).
My dad casually started to clean things up, placing things in their appropriate disposal container (His thoughts: Is a bloody cloth garbage or compost? The bloody avocado can definitely go in the compost… unless I can just cut the bloody part off and save the rest… hmm). He then in his own maddeningly calm, analytic, engineer-y way started to ask me “is it your hand? Or your finger? Which finger do you think it is?” At this point my mom and I had already done a little dance around the kitchen while yelling at each other, and she had wrapped my hand in several dishcloths, and my limp body was looking for somewhere to sit down somewhere so I could throw up from a sitting position. I was sure I was going to vomit, and was very focused on that. I was pretty sure it was irrelevant where the damage had been done, the plain fact of the matter being that I had stabbed myself worse than anyone had ever stabbed, full stop, and we had better hit the road don’t you think?
So we drove to the fancy new emergency clinic in Parksville (weird that the retirement capitol of the province has never had it’s own ER, right?), my dad driving uncharacteristically fast and my mom sitting in the back seat with me, still holding my arm up.
The triage nurse of course wanted to see what had happened, and so she unwrapped the bloody towels and then proceeded to pull the ring off of my finger right over THE GAPING WOUND. Which actually turned out to be about an inch long.
Anyone who knows me knows I have had my fair share of disgusting health problems, ranging in degrees of disgustingness and painfulness. People actually say things to me such as “you take everything in stride!” and “you always have your chin up!” or whatever. Those are people who know me. The people that I live with, that I am related to, will tell you that I am not a stoic person. And I did not appreciate this lady taking my ring off.
Apparently walking into the ER with a hand covered in blood doesn’t buy you any special privileges these days, either, since they made me wait TWO HOURS to see the doctor (to be fair, it is Parksville, and there was only one “doctor” in the house).
In that time these things happened:

-My dad played on his ipad
-A guy I worked with (and by worked with, I mean like had worked with within the past ten days) was also in the waiting room and pretended like he didn’t know me
-a baby got a cast on her arm, was braver than me
-a lady who may or may not have come to emergency to see a doctor to address her mental health issues asked me how old my baby was (pointing to my hand that was wrapped up in a bloody towel and still being held up in the air by my mom).

In the end, my “puncture wound” got glued back together by a very uppity man, I was given a tetanus shot and 8 days worth of antibiotics, and I still can’t feel the tip of the middle finger of my right hand. As soon as I cut my finger it had gone numb, and I told my parents this, and then the nurse, and then the doctor. I continued to tell everyone I met in the following days, because the feeling never came back and it was gross. I thought it was dying. My mom reassured me 495 times, saying “it will come back, don’t worry, the feeling will come back…ALEX IT WILL COME BACK.”
Until one day when we were shopping for makeup in Superstore and my finger was really sore, almost like I had burnt it. I told my mom I thought it was the nerves trying to regrow or start up again or something, and she said “oh good! I didn’t think the nerve would actually heal.” and then she laughed and laughed and put q-tips in her basket.

The end.

My Prettiest Easter Brunch

My Prettiest Easter Brunch

For Easter I thought it would be a nice idea to have a sophisticated brunch for my best buds that were gonna be home for the long weekend. I am lucky to have a mother who collects china, and friends who are always down for dressing up, so it worked out perfectly. I made a french toast raphael, with bacon, ham, and lots of fruit. We drank mimosas and ate blueberry lemon muffins that my mom whipped up while we waited for everyone to arrive. The food turned out and everyone looked divine, it was the event of the weekend and a who’s who of the best people in the Parksville/Nanoose area.

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After weeks of being of sad we needed to get outside and drink some drinks and play some tennis. We drank our drinks on the patio at the Beach Club in Parksville with some nachos… but I’m not even gonna report on those. Allow the picture of Will’s face below to illustrate how we felt about them.




Sandbar on Granville Island

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For Valentines we forwent our usual brunch plans because Daniel made a mystery dinner reservation. The surprise was The Sandbar, VERY swanky. You could tell it was nice because we ran into like 4 other Betas (including the president- natch). These places are usually not bad for me because you are generally just ordering some kind of meat or seafood with vegetables. We ordered half a crab (because it is plain, and comes with a swimming pool of butter), and a swordfish entree (tastes like chicken), and since I was feeling generous an appy of barbecue ribs – because I knew Daniel would prefer the cow over the scallops we were eyeing, and because the waitress said they were g-free. Obviously they weren’t, and she told us that, but the guy brought them to our table and taunted us with them anyway. The appetizer list was a really good looking selection of stir-fry veggies and wontons and sushi and things I just can’t do. We ordered the wok-fried chili chicken (with a back-up order in the inevitable case that the waitress asked the kitchen and they said it was deep fried… obviously). Again, they brought it to our table and it looked super good. Too good. So I sent the poor girl back to the kitchen ONE MORE TIME to confirm and she said the exasperated, exhausted, valentines-hating chef told her it was a corn starch coating and to eat the fricken chicken OR NOT HE DOESN’T CARE. He didn’t actually say that. The waitress was really, really, nice. And we ate the chicken and it was amazing. A better, fancier, yummier version of the Cactus Club sweet chili chicken bites that everyone makes such a huge deal about.

verdict: we will go back and order that chicken very nonchalantly. it was much pricier than our brunch habit, but we ordered wine and dessert and it was a special occasion, so you know.. (more than easy for me to justify- he paid.)

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