Food for thought

Okay, this blog is primarily concerned with food of the gloriously edible kind, but I’d like to do a little “scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” for my friend and former Province colleague Peter Darbyshire, who has a richly varied blog at Cancult.ca, a look at all that, in his view, makes us a Canadian culture, including, at times, what we eat. He plugged Accidental Foodie on his site, so I’m returning the favour.
Peter is one of those irritatingly talented people. He writes novels and has them published (latest one coming out this spring), he’s a great editor, and though he hates mushrooms, he’s a foodie in his own right.
So check out his site. After all, it does provide lots of nourishing food for thought.

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Welcome to my table!

I live to eat.

Well, let me tweak that a little.

I love to eat, but I also love to think about eating and all its dimensions.

Like culture:
The first time I had real Greek yogurt about 40 million years ago (yes, I’m that old!) was the first time I had yogurt. With real Greek honey. In a youth hostel in Athens. I was a college student ostensibly studying in Europe at a German university, but my real education was happening outside the stuffy classrooms, as I explored the shops and pubs and roadside stands in all the places I managed to squeeze in between the inscrutable lectures and endless recitation of historical facts and statistics. Since then, I’ve traveled on my stomach as often as possible. I have a husband who loves travel and eating as much as I do, and together, we’ve shared sweetly luscious fresh sheep ricotta in Tuscany, juices-down-the-chin grilled chicken along a sun-baked highway in Mexico and perfectly seared and astonishingly tender duck magrets at a 500-year-old restored farmhouse in the south of France.