My Horoscope Made Me Do It

“Um...what’s going on with your blog? Are you practicing restraint on your updates?! :) I miss it!”

That’s an email I received yesterday from one of my devout readers, and a huge fan of my blog, a.k.a. my friend Chantel.

Not that I needed someone to point this out to me. I know I’ve neglected my loyal readers—all five of them. But I’ve got a good excuse. My horoscope made me do it.

Seriously.

Georgia Nicols, www.georgianicols.com, my personal astrologer—seer of things unseen and hearer of silent influences, not to mention one helluva accurate eccentric—has to take some of the blame. She makes eerily good calls, like the time she confirmed that I would be traveling to Scotland, or when she “saw” that I would write my first book.

A couple weeks ago she told me that I would be tired. Damn if she wasn’t bang on.

I started reading Georgia’s horoscopes when I worked at ELLE Canada magazine, where she still pens a monthly column. Before she came into my life I periodically browsed my personal blurb in the newspaper and often sought out Rob Brezsny’s column in Toronto’s alternative weekly, NOW magazine. But to be honest I could never understand what the hell Rob was talking about. His horoscopes sound good in a literary, esoteric kinda way, but I couldn't wrap my brain around his wacked metaphors and downright wacky meanderings.

Georgia on the other hand is straightforward. I know exactly what she’s talking about and she makes me laugh. She’s witty and fun and I follow her weekly. I could follow her daily but seriously that seems a little desperate. I’m quite happy with my Sunday email that lets me know what’s in store for me in the coming week.

While I read my horoscope regularly I’m not a total fanatic. It was a couple weeks ago that Georgia pointed out that the sun, my astrological planet, is furthest away from my sign (Leo) right now, and because of this I need more sleep. The sun is the source of all energy and since its teeny, weenie rays are having a hard time getting through to me it’s meant a reduction in my energy and in turn, my posts. Eerie, right?

No matter this was a couple weeks ago—I’m holding onto this astrological nugget and riding it out as long as possible. I’ve nodded off a couple times just writing this entry. It’s useless to fight the stars.

I’ve also been busy.

Getting ready for my CityLine gig—which airs Monday February 9, 2009—took a couple days out of me. Sourcing gorgeous décor items, sparkling dinnerware and creating simple recipes is exhilarating and exhausting. Shopping is hard work, I don’t care what anyone says. Being fabulous, even harder. But my hard work paid off. The segment, which I taped this past Monday was a huge success and everything from the black and white table setting to the butternut squash bisque with lobster and cognac, looked wonderful.

The only glitch is that my centre piece, a white ceramic vase in the shape of three guns, back-to-back, was considered too edgy and had to be removed. It’s from a company out of Britain called SUCK UK www.suck.uk.com and the design is based on antiwar imagery from the 1960s that shows firearms being used in non-violent ways. Perhaps for a “Singles Only Valentine’s Day” segment, it sends the wrong message.

I’ve also been busy prepping for “He Said, She Said with Ken and Mary Jo”. We start shooting tomorrow and then are back Monday February 9^th and continue shooting three episodes per day for the following two weeks. It’s going to be manic AND a helluva good time. My plan is to keep all of you updated with daily posts from the set. The makeup disasters, the wardrobe malfunctions and the food flops (there’ll be some, I’m sure!).

Anyhooters, it’s good to be back. And it feels good to be missed, if only by one person. (There’s a signed “He Said, She Said” apron in it for you Chantel!)

According to my horoscope, Georgia predicted this too.

From today: Something to do with your work is about to change in a dramatic way.

How could she know that I was actually going to do some work today? Creepy.

Obama Stew Served with a Side of Hope

How can you think of food at a time like this? Seriously, I’ve been hard-pressed to find something worthy of posting to this space. Food, while inspiring and comforting, joyous and necessary, seems, well, a little lame right now. Trivial and frivolous even.

America swore a black president into office yesterday and the world has been changed forever. Barriers overcome. Doors opened. And a wave of hope and inspiration swept out over the Washington Mall to the rest of America and the world at large. We watched history unfold live on TV, or the internet, or on the radio—and that doesn’t happen everyday. It doesn’t even happen every year.

On Monday a CBC Radio reporter lamented that she wasn’t around for Woodstock or Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, but that she felt the energy in D.C. from all the pilgrims who made their way from out of state or out of country for the inauguration, and it must be similar to those other historic events.

Whether or not Obama make’s a good president is beside the point. It’s not going to be an easy ride, that’s for sure and he’s gonna piss off some people, but it’s not really about that. Not right away. He’s sending out a message of hope and rallying change and that’s some powerful stuff. He’s an A-class motivator and if he can keep up his reign of inspirational enthusiasm he might just have a chance at leaving an A-class legacy.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Not even Barack could inspire hope for investors yesterday as the Dow had its worst Inauguration Day drop in history. Though starting at the bottom has its advantages. Just ask Dubya. Wait, right. He started at the top. Forget it.

One thing about yesterday’s inauguration that I find strangely abrasive is all the mention of God. Two ministers were included in the event and Obama himself mentioned the Holy One at least a dozen times during his 18-minute speech. As a Canadian it grates a little. Just like Trudeau said “the state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation”, so it applies to the temple, mosque, basilica, or what have you. Who cares about God? Is He going to win the war on terrorism or pull the real estate market outta the outhouse?

It got me thinking. America is cool with a black president, and is open to having a woman in the White House. Heck they might even go so far as to elect an openly gay man or a Korean-American lesbian (hey you Maggie Cho!) but what the hell would they do if an atheist ever tried to make a run for it? I’m thinking all those doors that just opened might get closed, dead bolted and barricaded pretty damn quickly.

It seems His Holiness really does wield a lot of power in that country. He brought along hurricane Katrina, the freakishly steroided Carrot Top and oh-so-slimming Spanx. Perhaps he could also see the benefit of removing his presence from the Oval Office? Maybe take a chapter from His Canadian constituents who believe that political decisions should be just that, political, and not confused with spiritual judgment.

If Obama has taught us anything it’s that there’s always hope. Even in America.

Supersize Me, You and Everyone

We’re getting fatter. Fatter and fatter, day by day, year after year. Fatter than all generations before us. Perhaps a subconscious human behaviour to cull the heard, control the population and confirm Darwin’s theory once and forever. Survival of the fittest, at its most literal.

The Spam factory in Austin, MN is churning out more canned ham than it has in decades. Now, before I get a lawsuit thrown in my lap from the good people in the tinned meat business, I’m not saying Spam is specifically making us fat, but our reliance on processed, high calorie, large portion food is the culprit. And with a recession bearing down on us it’s likely that cheap, high cal comfort food is only going to get more popular, continuing to expand our waistlines, give us heart disease and put us in the ground earlier than any generation before us.

Who says there’s nothing positive in the newspaper?

It’s not just canned pork products either. Apparently we’re seeking solace in the familiar and the fattening: mac ‘n’ cheese, meat loaf, mashed potatoes, chocolate chip cookies and chocolate cake.

Don’t get me wrong, I love these foods and there’s nothing inherently wrong with them if enjoyed with restraint (there’s that damn word again)—reasonable portion size with some veggies thrown in every now and then. But see, that’s part of the problem: portion size. It’s growing with our guts—or vice versa. Either way, over the years what could once feed a family of four, now feeds one hungry MF.

According to new research reported in last week’s Globe and Mail that looked at recipes from the Joy of Cooking over the last 70 years, calories are way up and portion sizes too.

The study covered some classic recipes like beef stroganoff and chili, that have appeared in every edition since its first publication in 1936, and found average calories are up 63%, and a nine-inch apple, which once served eight, now serves six.

It gets better.

In 1975 a brownie recipe made 30 pieces. Today the same recipe only makes 17. That means what we think of normal today, was half the size 30 years ago. Oink.

This has been happening slowly over time—starting after the end of WWII and continuing through the ’50s and ’60s—but according to the study portion sizes have jumped by more than 32% from 1996. Double oink.

The “more, more, more” mentality of North Americans (and the Brits) feeds this behaviour. We want everything and we want it now and we want more of it. The sad part is that it doesn’t even have to be good, just big. Hog-size, if you will.

And I’m as guilty as the next guy. I’ve written two cookbooks that pretty much encourage indulgence. With lines like, “full fat is best” and a chocolate soufflé recipe that makes four servings but is meant for a romantic dinner for two isn’t helping anyone practice restraint. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite, and I apologize. Sincerely I do. But full fat does taste best, dammit.

I think the real culprit is a combination of serving size and lack of exercise. We eat like pigs then drive to 7-11 at 3am for Taquitos and Mountain Dew. It’s disgusting.

Fortunately I’ve been blessed with the metabolism of a 14-year-old sprinter, but I also try to take the stairs over the escalator, stop eating when I’m full and make wiser choices at the grocery store.

I’m not good all the time and my speedy metabolism will slow eventually. At which point I’ll have to make some serious changes in my own eating habits. But for today I’m going to supersize my lunch—who knows how much longer I’ll be able to get away with that?

Ryan's Responsibility Lecture

I write about food and booze with a lighthearted and laidback approach. It’s a fun subject and one that I’m lucky enough to know a lot about. I sometimes think that I have the best job in the world—I’ve turned what was once my hobby into a career. I work for myself and don’t have to answer to anyone on a daily basis. It’s pretty plum.

Creating new cocktails is a hoot and spending the better part of a day in the kitchen can be exhilarating and wildly creative. I’m not stuck behind a desk dreaming about being the master of my domain, I’m actually doing it. And doing it in an area that’s centered around having a good time.

I don’t think of myself as a serious person but I know when I’m on a photo shoot taking a “bite” out of a Toblerone bar that I can be pretty damn serious. And once in a while it hits me that what I do (promote drinking, if I drop the euphemisms and pretense) does require some responsibility. Booze and the abuse of it can have tragic consequences, as we heard a lot last week with charges being laid on two bartenders, a manager and directors of a private resort in Muskoka.

Three young men were killed July 3, 2008 after spending the afternoon at the Lake Joseph Club sucking back drinks before getting into one of the guy’s Audi’s, speeding down the road and crashing it into the lake. Nineteen year-old Nastasia Inez Elzinga was also in the car but managed to escape and swim to shore.

It’s all pretty horrible. These guys were between 19 and 20 and were just beginning to start their lives as adults, but they made a really dumb choice. It’s also pretty horrible because one of the bartenders charged was an acquaintance of the group. He was a friend who just kept serving them drinks—31 in total in a three-hour time period. It works out to a little more than one drink per person every half hour. I’m a guy who can hold his own and having seven drinks in three hours would leave me with a pretty damn good buzz. It could knock others out cold.

As a server of alcohol, whether it’s in a bar, restaurant or in your own home, you are responsible for your guests and their safety once they leave. People need to take responsibility for their own actions—I’m a firm believer in that—but the law also places responsibility on the shoulders of those who serve booze, and rightfully so. Booze impairs judgment.

The tragedy of this case hits home because it’s really just a succession of bad choices. And we’ve all made bad choices, especially when we were young and considered ourselves indestructible.

They were served too much, they drank too much and then they piled into car.

Part of the discussion surrounding this case has involved the rural nature of the resort. As someone who lives in the Big Smoke I’ve got options getting home after a night of irresponsible drinking—public transit, taxi or by foot. These options don’t exist outside urban centres, and while it doesn’t excuse anyone’s actions, the lack of choice makes driving drunk almost a default option, despite the fact that we all know we shouldn’t do it.

Whether or not the directors of ClubLink, the company that owns the club, should be charged at all in this case is a whole other box of crap. They weren’t present for any of what happened on July 3rd, yet their names appear on the liquor license so the OPP is holding them partially accountable.

We’ll find out more on January 27 when all 16 people appear in court to hear the charges, until then, please make smart choices and be responsible. Booze is a helluva good time but it has a way of making us do stupid things. Just look what it’s done to that Olsen twin.

A Matter of Taste

The good people at Matchstick Inc., a Toronto-based PR and marketing firm called yesterday to ask where my posting on Ketel One vodka was located. See, back in the early part of December, Matchstick and Ketel One teamed up to do some booze-on-the-street-type outreach. They invited a bunch of bloggers, writers and “influencers” to take part in a vodka tasting at the swank, yet rustic, Kultura restaurant on King Street.

Then December got crazy and I never got around to posting my thoughts on the event. Here goes:

My date for the evening? BFF Jamie. He’s not only a helluva good time but he knows the ins and outs of cocktail creation and has sampled enough vodka in his days to make a Russian babushka blush. Perfect companion for an evening such as this.

After climbing three flights of stairs we enter the cozy, loft-like bar on the top floor of Kultura, check our coats and make our way to the bar for our free welcome cocktail. A classic vodka martini for me, a (surprise, surprise) dirty martini for Jamie. Lots of olives in both.

As a Ketel One virgin I was both delighted and impressed with my first sip—the smooth elixir sliding over my tongue, warming my throat and leaving a clean yet complex taste to linger. The deft hands of the bartender must be applauded—a perfectly balanced and well chilled martini is an art form, and this woman new her craft. Though to be fare, free cocktails usually help infer a favourable impression from me.

We continued to sip our cocktails, nibble a couple hors d’oeuvres and pose for the hired paparazzi, while cozying up on the black leather sofa in the corner. In front of us were poured three brands of vodka, Ketel One, Grey Goose–America’s favourite premium—and the juggernaut they call Absolut.

Tasting the Ketel One first I instantly enjoy the clean taste and subtle. It’s warm but it doesn’t burn and is wonderfully smooth, nuanced with delicate floral and citrus notes.

Sipping Grey Goose next is disappointing. It’s the premium brand I keep in my freezer but after Ketel One it feels thin on my palate and kicks me with a heavier note of alcohol. It’s not as complex or flavourful as the previous. It seems that gorgeous frosted bottle is more about good looks than safeguarding a truly premium product.

With just a tiny bit of digging you learn that Grey Goose is really just a lesson in superb marketing. Started in 1997 by billionaire Sidney Frank, GG was created specifically for the American market and situated in the Cognac region of France for its perceived cache. The French make good stuff, non?

It’s not that its crap vodka, but in this world of prepackaged pop stars and targeted products, a little history and tradition goes a long way with this booze-taster.

Ketel One is a family-owned, Holland-based company that dates back to 1691. It’s now run by Carolus Nolet, the 10th generation Nolet to steer the distillery, and it’s steeped in tradition—the secret recipe is only known to a few select people—and has a mandate to focus on quality over quantity.

Sure, all of this info was fed to the room of “influencers” by our hosts but it doesn’t make it wrong or untrue. In fact it’s kind of warm and quaint, don’t you think? (See how easily I’m influenced.)

As for the Absolut? I’ll just say it’s best used in mixed drinks and leave it at that.

After we finish the tutored tasting we linger awhile longer, enjoy another round of martinis and mingle with the crowd. All red-faced and droopy-eyed Jamie and I decide Ketel One will be our new vodka. It’s delicious, well priced and we’re big fans of many products from Holland. We also bought into the back story like any impressionable drunk would.

It wasn’t until we gathered our gift bags that the lingering taste of Ketel One went from sweet to bitter. A free gift bag is very generous, whatever’s inside, don’t get me wrong, but there was a difference between the invitee’s bag and that of his guest. I went home with a 375mL bottle of my new favourite vodka, while Jamie exited with an airplane-size bottle of Ketel One.

It left us with a cheap impression of the brand and the event but Jamie brought up a good point. How is he supposed to spread the gospel on Ketel One if his take-away isn’t ample enough to share with someone else?

Ask a Foodie

People are more curious and knowledgeable about all things food and drink and I get a lot of questions thrown my way. I love "playing" the expert, so keep 'em coming. Nothing's too silly or seemingly simple. Here’s a few doozies that I answered in the most recent issue of 2: The Magazine for Couples.

Q: What are some easy appetizers or hors d’oeuvres I can make at the last minute?

A: A slice of English cucumber with a dollop of pesto and some softened goat cheese is always a good last-minute snack to serve drop-ins. Or, pile some clean and dry strawberries (caps still attached) on a platter. Drizzle with sambucca and sprinkle with freshly grated black pepper, then stand back and enjoy the oohs and aahs of your guests.

For something a little flashier and carnivorous grill up some Mojito Lamb Popsicles. Slice between the bones on a rack of lamb to produce individual “popsicles” then marinate in a mixture of 2 parts lime juice, 1 part rum, a handful of chopped fresh mint and a spoonful or two of sugar (unrefined is preferred) for at least an hour. Season with a little salt and pepper then grill a few minutes per side and serve tapas style. Make an extra mojito for yourself.

Q: I keep hearing to wash my veggies before I prepare a meal. What does this consist of? Is rinsing enough? Or what kind of soap is safe to use?

A: Briskly rubbing fruit and veggies with your hands under cold tap water is generally effective in removing most dirt and surface microorganisms. Never use detergents or bleach as produce is porous and will absorb the chemicals. You can buy all-natural veggie wash sprays in most major grocery stores that are effective in removing wax, soil, chemicals and pesticides but nothing is 100% guaranteed. Make friends with local farmers who have good, sustainable practices and buy directly from them when you can. You should also prepare produce on a separate surface than you use to cut raw meat and remember, if something looks bad, it probably is, so don’t put it in your mouth.

Q: What is duck confit? I’ve seen it on restaurant menus and want to try it but I’m a little apprehensive.

A: Confit means to preserve and it’s one of the oldest methods of storing cooked meat without refrigeration. Though no longer needed for its preserving power, it’s still popular because of its delicious flavour. Duck confit is the leg, salted and herbed then cooked slowly, submerged in the fowl’s rendered fat. After which it can be cooled then stored in the fat. Good confit should have crispy skin, succulent and fork-tender flesh that’s packed with flavour but doesn’t feel oily in your mouth. And no, it’s not Jenny Craig approved.

Q: My mother-in-law takes great pleasure in my kitchen disasters. What can I do to shut her up for good?

A: French cooking always impresses, but so does confidence. Turn your disasters into show-pieces with a little imagination and quick thinking—a sprig of fresh herbs and a dollop of something can go a long way to mask most flaws. If that fails use the grandkids as pawns.

What do you want to know? Post a question — I’ll answer it on my blog but it also might end up in the next issue of 2.

The Hedonist vs. Restraint

Yesterday I did not drink. I did not smoke. I did not eat out. Or order in. And I did not have sex.

For a hedonist it doesn’t get much worse than this.

I ate vegetables AND fruit. I read. Went for a walk. I even drank four glasses of water and went to bed before midnight. Alone.

“Happy freakin’ January Ryan, this is your new life.”

Okay make this crazy ride of sobriety stop, I need to get off! I think the lack of toxins, stimulants, depressants and hormones coursing through my booze-thinned blood are making me sick. (The sad part is it’s probably true.)

If you read last week’s post about restraint then you know that instead of making a resolution, I’ve chosen restraint as the word that will help guide me though 2009. Choosing a word instead of a specific resolution seemed so broad, so liberating. Little did I realize that it would be so broad. So damn liberating.

It applies to so many things but worst of all it applies to all the many things I love about life.

There’s the angel on my right shoulder telling me not to over eat. To drink more water and swill less booze. To cut down on the smoking and ramp up the physical activity.

Then there’s the devil on my left shoulder saying, “Where’s the fun in that?”.

I hear ya Lucifer. Let’s make cocktail and think about how we might restrain that little angel. Together we can take her.

A frigid day like this calls for something spicy. A piping hot Mayan Coffee will do nicely. This is the signature drink from our “Bookworms and Booze” party in Entertaining with Booze—and perfectly enjoyed during the day.

Combine one ounce Kahlua and half an ounce of Goldschlager in a specialty coffee glass and top with hot coffee. Finish with a dollop of whipped cream and sprinkling of cinnamon, if desired.

Sip slowly and enjoy. And think about that gym membership you’re glad you didn’t buy.