a new series: the saturday sandwich.

hi y'all!

happy beginning of the week.

i'm starting a new series around here

it's called, the saturday sandwich.
i'm pretty keen on a sandwich,
and i sorta really hope you are too.

so here it is, 
sandwich number one:

a chicken salad sandwich made especially for summer.

it's got the crunch of celery

and the little tang of grain mustard.

it's got the calm and reserved of endive

alongside the peppery and fresh of arugula.

it's got basil from the garden

and chicken that was homegrown.

and it's a sandwich i'll say 
that sits near to my heart.

[and yes, i totally just said that.]

i'll quickly tell you why.

i grew up on farm.

i mucked stalls and i weeded gardens 

and i carried baskets brimming with eggs.
and we ate almost entirely 
from our land.

and yes, i realize my luck. 
  so much so, that it almost sounds a foreign thing to say,
that we ate almost entirely from our land, that is. 

my parents raised our poultry, our beef and our pork.

we ate farm fresh eggs and we drank water from a well.

my mom baked our bread and my dad juiced our juice.

we lived almost completely away from the grocery store.

save for the occasional treat and those staples you don't make at home.
butter and sugar,
and salt-and-vinegar chips.

i'll admit back then, 
all i wanted was juice from a box 

and cookies from the store.

i remember thinking the other children so lucky.

silly little kid i was, i so didn't realize my fortune. 

anyway, my parents live that way still.

and on the odd occasion they bring me chicken.

and so for this sandwich, i used one of theirs.

it was near perfect in texture, the legs a pleasing farm-grown dark.

for me, the feeling of home squished between bread. 

my self-indulgence and chicken aside,
i hope you'll try my first sandwich and report back,

i'm anxious to hear your take.

find the recipe below.

happy trails, friends. 

xox, n. 

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the length of a skirt.

the view through glass: one. two. three.

fallen for. (via)

i'd like a paper crane mobile. 

i'd like to dress for a safari
and i'd like to see giraffes.
[so i got a new hat.]

everything about this video is great.

bodies of water: one. two.
i kinda love these bow ties. 

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a chicken salad sandwich made especially for summer.

for the chicken salad:
all measurements are approximate! (the recipe was an afterthought)



3 heaping tablespoons of plain yogurt (3%)
1 teaspoon white vinegar
2 teaspoons grain mustard
1.5 teaspoons fresh morita salsa (perhaps substitutable with another fresh salsa or a finely chopped hot pepper)
2 teaspoons leatherwood honey (!!)
2 stalks of celery, diced
1/8 a red onion, diced
2 breasts + 1 leg shredded organic chicken (i roasted mine whole the night before)
salt + pepper


in a bowl mix together all wet ingredients, add the celery and onions 
stir in the shredded chicken and season to taste. 
cover and refrigerate for at least an hour or overnight.


for the bread:
8 thick slices of farmers white
(if you're in toronto, splendido's chef, victor barry does, in my view the best in the city, find it here) 
room temperature whey butter (regular butter will do too)
kosher salt


lightly butter both side of each slice, sprinkle with salt 
fry on a medium low until golden brown 
set aside


for the sandwiches: (yield 4)
2 heads belgium endive, cored and chopped
a couple handfuls of fresh arugula
about 20 small basil leaves
8 thin slices of a medium to hard cheese, i used peau rouge
1/8 of a red onion, thinly sliced


to assemble:
in a small bowl toss together the endive, arugula and basil leaves
divide evenly among the bottom halves of each your sandwiches
divide your chicken salad mix atop that
place 3-6 red onion slices atop there
then three small thin slices of cheese (i used a peeler to shave mine)
and then the final piece of bread
squish down a little and voila, you're done.

sunday sort of light - spring rhubarb!

hello hello, happy friday!


i'm feeling all lively like spring today
like the bouncy of a bird just free from the nest.

things are brilliant here,

the cold of the week is seeing its end

and the sunshine of saturday is preparing to show.
i've seen the fat bellies of starlings a flutter on the grass
and the weighty and wet, of robins with worms.






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i've been thinking of sundays, because of how they pass by so quick.
and because too, of how the light sits
and the breeze always blows.



so since it's been a while, a sunday sort of light post.
find the entire series from 2008 until now, here
and a few of my faves: ice cream, white, saturday flourish!

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oh and i've got words for you too!
stories of rhubarb from little to big.
and lessons from people most interested in pink.

i walked to the market a few months ago now,
i picked up the things i most often get.
lettuce and eggs and butter and cheese.
and i talked with a woman i can't so easily forget.
her outfit was pretty, fitted for fun.
a cashmere sweater, beige coat, and a scarf from hermes.










she was kind 
i could tell, with wrinkles to match.
a near century in years, but young all the same.
her neck heavy with jewels,
her ears laden with stones.






we stood side-by-side in the section with fruit,
she was stopped there like me, just staring at pink.
her hands faster than mine,
her trolley near full.
fuchsia and paper and pretty layers of green.












she spoke with me
though it was a moment or two 
before she really got going.

perhaps she could see i was struck by the sight,
most utterly amazed at rhubarb so early and so pink.

 you see, for us in toronto
march often remains heavy with snow

and spring while soon to be, is still quite out of reach.






















she said farmers force rhubarb in greenhouses
tucked clear away from the tough winter air.
tough winter air, i loved that.


she said it's much prettier this way.
skinny and tender and pink to the centre.
she said she makes 
jams and crumbles and things that are sweet.
and that to her, 
rhubarb in march was about, the very best thing.

she said that it is local and most always tended with care
and that if i watched i would see that it appears at the start to each year.








it was charming.
a woman in her late eighties telling me of stories of pink.
of how spring rhubarb grows
of what i should bake, and of what i should make.

that said i've bought rhubarb almost each week since.

i've made jellies and tarts and puddings of rice.

there's been almonds and pistachios

and butter made from whey.
and i'll tell you what,
i'm wholly and entirely in love.

happy weekend, friends.

it's meant to be grand.




xox, n.

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bright light.

black door.

white balloons.

maroon coloured lips.
green leaves.
tiny bathtub.
and sarah jane, i love your rhubarb photo! 

[hg news]

 an update monday may 17, 5pm est!
AN UPDATE TUESDAY MAY 18, 5pm est!

not on the list, join here. 

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a quick hello!

hiya!

eeep, it's been a while, hello again.
hope all is well on your side of things.
it's sunny here
the sky, bright blue
the air, screaming with spring.






i went to the post office today.
the birds chirped like crazy on the way there.
i saw the tiny blue of a robin's egg,
and i carried it home in the palm of my hand.




i chatted with the postman
as he stamped my packages
and he told me of a trip he's taking tomorrow.
he's going to egypt and lebanon 
and old-fashioned london.



and i have to admit,
hearing of it all made, my little heart flutter.
i thought of sweets and tea
and things made with honey.
of pistachio green, of sandy white and of deep dark maroon.
of camels and sand and
the desert at sunset.

of rose water and orange blossom

and of turkish delight.




i imagined pots of tea, alongside pretty side plates.
of sand on my feet and blowy curtains on the sand.
of saturated fuchsia and deep peacock green.
of light summer clothes, 
of favourite sunglasses and of markets for hours.










and you know, i walked in short sleeves today,
and it didn't feel like egypt or lebanon or places afar.
but i will say, it felt pretty nice just the same.
i smiled at the breeze when it ruffled my shirt.
and i relished in the fact that the warm has finally come. 
hello spring-filled days, i love you.






i ate salad with shrimp and sipped wine with lunch
and i thought quite a bit of the stories to tell you.
so, let's chat in the coming days,
i'll get one ready for you by then.

xox, n.




[thank you for your support of HG. wowza, it puts a smile on my face!]



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japanese knifes. oh!
the slatted windows to the left.
the back of this swimsuit.
love. love. love.
 onion skin notepads
this is sorta adorable. 
these photos of tea. fun.
miss celine's beach outfit. love.
i won an alphabet this weekend. love.
a ditte fischer bowl
pancakes.



i'd like to be sitting right here. 
and ha, these guys made me laugh.
from my weekend, pink and green. 
oh, and i like these paper bags.









































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