For the Gardener: Chipotle Spiced Lamb & Kale Tostadas

In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt. ~ Margaret Atwood

You can't see me right now but I'm totally doing a little happy dance.  Well, little wiggles in my chair, but that still counts.  Nope, not drunk (though I did have the best mango margarita this afternoon), but insanely happy that I've officially started gardening.  I busted out the garden gloves and the trowels and got friendly with some dirt today.  It felt good.  After what seemed like the longest winter in the history of the universe, I never thought I'd be so happy to uproot dandelions.  Just watching earthworms slither along the freshly turned over soil made me smile.  I'm a total weirdo, but after the winter I've had, you'd do the same thing.  I'm also super happy to have my post-surgery strength back, which means I don't have to be so paranoid about lifting anything over 10 pounds.  (Um, my cats are fat over ten pounds so I can finally squish them to bits.  I think this pleases me more than them).  Being strong again means all I want to do is make my yard pretty.  Which kinda means less time is spent in the kitchen, so food has to be quick and dirty.  And that's why today we are talkin' tostadas.
 

Skillet Cornbread with Goat Cheese & Fig Jam

May long weekend - the unofficial start to summer - is just around the corner, and loads of happy campers are preparing to head to the wilderness for a little escapism.  But not this gal.  Call me crazy but I'm a fan ofindoor plumbing; not sleeping on the cold, hard ground; and I believe in a decent barrier between me and bears.  I get grumpy if I'm damp and cold for too long, and I like washing my hair.  Daily.  I am what would be called a comfort camper, and that's probably why I don't get invited camping a whole lot.  But if you want to invite me to your cozy cottage by the lake (you have a shower, right?), I'd be down with that and even make you dinner.  My culinary skills make me a valuable houseguest - true story.  

Vanilla Panna Cotta with Strawberry-Lavender Compote

My mom taught me lots of cool things.  Like how to make a mean chocolate chip cookie.  How to plant a garden.  How to drive.  How to persevere.  How to not be afraid of the dark.  How to not take any crap,  from anyone.  How to keep it all together when the world is seemingly spinning out of control.  Mom is one tough cookie, and she had to be, raising four small kids all by herself.  After my dad's sudden death she managed to somehow not lose her mind, and in the end put forth unto the world four strong, smart, kind and good human beings.  My mom is my hero and honestly most days I don't know what I would do without her.  And if you ask my siblings they'll tell you the exact same thing.  Even when she drives me crazy (she's a mom - she's supposed to) my love for her is endless and my heart grateful for all of those times she dried my tears and cheered me on and watched me grow up into the woman I am today.  My love of good food is all her fault too because she let me dig up potatoes, pick the strawberries, eat the cookie dough, stir the pot and lick the beaters, and without those early culinary experiences I wouldn't be the cook I am today.  I learned it all from her. 

Win! Warm Lentil, Bacon & Asparagus Salad with Fried Eggs

This is a sponsored post, but there is no shortage of love for lentils on these pages.  And you guys know me - I wouldn't tell you about something unless I really was in love with it.  So here we go!  

First things first.  May is Love your Lentils month (but I'm crazy about them the whole entire year - just scroll through my recipe index and you'll find the love) and to help celebrate Canadian Lentils has created a really fantastic contest.  Here's the part where I tell you about the good stuff:  the grand prize is a trip for 2 to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (my hometown!) and the heart and soul of the world's lentil production.  We love our lentils here.  Not only will you get to hang out in my beautiful city, but also take a tour with famous chef Michael Smith, stay in a posh hotel by the South Saskatchewan River for 3 nights, and you get $500 to spend on fun stuff while here.  All you have to do is enter your lentil recipe - you can be a blogger or a home cook - and just by voting you have a chance to WIN.  I won't bother you with all of the particulars - you can read them here.  But I urge you to enter, and while you're there, throw a vote my way too, because I really, really want to stay in that hotel (and meeting Michael Smith wouldn't be too shabby either.  Oh, and the cash, yeah, the cash, that would be nice.  And I've got a hankering to tour a farmer's field like nobody's business.)  So go vote!  Pretty pretty please and thank you. 

Mending: Lemon Poppy Seed Waffles with Crème Fraîche

I can't tell you how nice it is to be sitting at my desk again, with a cup of green tea keeping me company.  Happily, and with massive amounts of relief, I'm here to tell you my surgery last week was successful, and I'm on the mend.  Recovery has been slow, but each day I get more mobile as the pain is lessened.  Today is the second day with no pain killers (woo hoo!) and considering my gallbladder was removed via my belly button, I think I'm doing just fine.  Though now I'm beginning to feel rather house-bound, and probably talking to my cats more than is normal healthy.  So far they haven't talked back, so we're good.  I've not fallen into the trap that is daytime TV, but I would by lying if I told you I didn't watch the cast of Mad Men on Katie yesterday.  It's that Jon Hamm.  He pulls me in.  My PVR has been put to good use, catching up on movies I recorded months ago, and I'm reading so much I can't remember the last time I've devoted a few hours every day to a good book.  Sometimes I fall asleep with it on my face, but that's real life.  Meals have been simple, with friends and family dropping off food and groceries, and I'm so glad I stocked my freezer well.  Doctor's orders not to lift anything heavier than 10 pounds for 2 more weeks so grocery shopping is not in my near future.  Hopefully by the weekend I'll be strong enough to venture out and sip an iced coffee on a patio somewhere.  But until then I'm content I suppose, doing small things with ease and giving my body what it needs to make a full recovery.

The Distraction: Chicken, Lime & Tortilla Soup

Whenever I'm in need of a distraction; something to occupy my mind other than anxiety, I head to my kitchen.  And lately I've been in the kitchen a lot.  You see, tomorrow morning, I check myself into the local hospital for a minor day surgery.  Well, that's what the physicians call it.  I call it ohmygodyouaretakingmygallbladderoutofmybody day.  I've known for quite some time that the surgery was impending, but given that I've never even had a tooth pulled, tomorrow holds a whole bunch of unknowns for me, and I'm kinda sorta freaking out a lot.  Don't get me wrong, I know I'm terribly lucky to have never before needed an extended hospital stay.  In my almost 40 years of life I've only sprained ankles, had the occupational cuts and burns and bruises, a couple of root canals and a broken heart.  Oh, if only there was a bandage for the latter.  I've gone through life fairly unscathed, and tomorrow that record is up.  Tomorrow I get an IV and anaesthetic for the first time.  That alone is giving me the heeby jeebies.  The procedure itself sounds short and simple and I can kind of wrap my brain around that bit.  But then there is the recovery and the pain and reduced mobility for awhile.  I have no idea what to expect from this whole situation and for a control freak like me, it's scary as all heck.  I've been tempering my fear with bouts of yoga and cooking, and find both processes meditative and soothing - something to steal my brain away from worst-case-scenario-land. But if you've ever had a gall bladder attack, you know of which sweet hell I speak.  Having that knife-stabbing pain gone for good is going to be quite awesome.  I just have to get through the next several days and my over-thinking ways.  And now I'm rhyming.  Let's move on to the soup!

Leaping Forward: A Shy Girl Goes to a Food Bloggers Conference

When I was in junior high, I spent a great deal of time in the school's bathroom.  No, I didn't have a wonky bladder.  I was just terribly, terribly shy.  Every day I went home for lunch, and I would try to make it back so I was just in time for the first bell.  That way I wouldn't have to hang about by myself, or worse yet, walk down the hallway lined with the cool kids, who (I felt) were scrutinizing the big dorks and geeks.  Me.  Alas, if I didn't manage to meet up with my one pal, or if I was just a minute or two early, I sought refuge in a bathroom stall.  Not one of my shining life moments, but when you are thirteen and incredibly insecure, hiding out in the bathroom is sometimes a lifesaver.  With the trill of that first bell I was released.  If there is hell on earth, I'm a firm believer that junior high is it.