lowell's.

Pike Place Market is one of my favourite places in Seattle.  I love it on a sunny summer's morning and a crisp winter afternoon. I love wandering the crowded aisles and eyeing the rows of colourful fruits and vegetables; hearing the calls of the fisherman in their rubber overalls wrapping up their catch of the day in brown paper and tossing it at the lucky person purchasing it. 

phone nibblies: part 2.

Rock shrimp tempura roll at Katsuya, Los Angeles, CA.

gilead café.

I've mentioned before that I don't like Sundays. But sometimes, I've discovered, with the right set of elements they can be turned around. This past Sunday was the kind of perfect, crisp, sunny fall day that I thought we'd completely skipped in Toronto this year. I was feeling far less groggy than usual. And we were going to Gilead Café for brunch.

eggs benny à la lockie.

I'll confess. I'm pretty sure I'm not a "Sunday Person." 


I know that that lovely little day is supposed to make me want to take my dogs on long walks through parks, sip seasonally-flavored lattes and smile and laugh and "catch up" with friends, but by the time Sunday rolls around, more often than not I'm lacking pep in my step. Maybe it's because whatever wonderful weekend I've just had is drawing to a close, or perhaps it has to do with the number of alcoholic beverages I've usually consumed the night before, but generally my mood is less than desirable.


Last Sunday, however, I opened my blinds to beautiful weather and my bedroom door to the heavenly smell of buttery onions and tarragon wafting from downstairs of my family home and knew it was going to be a good one.


My father cooks only on occasion, and when he does, it's sure to be magnificent. Having attended French cooking classes led by a Cordon Bleu trained chef in Vancouver a number of years ago, most of his recipes are indulgently French, sauce-y (read: amazing) and perfected to a T. His eggs benedict with sauce béarnaise is no exception.


Similar in a lot of ways to hollandaise sauce (but, I think, better!) my dad's béarnaise uses a reduction of green onions, parsley, tarragon wine vinegar and other delicious stuff to give it an extra flavour kick, while still retaining the artery-clogging goodness that comes from the typical hollandaise base of clarified butter and egg yolks. It is heaven on earth. Serve on a late weekend morning with fresh squeezed orange juice, and your worries (or Sunday blues) will disappear almost as quickly as the masterpiece on your plate.