Easter

Easter Sunday in Sherbrooke village seems like lovely, distant memory. It was warm and sunny. Purple hyacinths dotted the ground. The kids collected eggs in t-shirts. Today, 2 weeks later, it's snowing.

I'm going to relive that day through the menu; food has a magical way of transporting you to a place, time and temperature. The meal was a group effort, with Larry Fogg and James Wilson at the helm.

Larry's warm brandade with homemade baguette

Trout terrine with grilled scallops

Grilled leg of lamb with salsa verde

Potato and fennel gratin

Gilly's chocolate tart

Larry's salt-washed cheese

*Brandade is a puree of salt cod, olive oil and milk, sometimes called Brandade de Morue ('morue' being the French name for salt cod). Brandade is a specialty of the Languedoc and Provence regions of France, particularly Nîmes. Similar preparations are found in other Mediterranean countries such as Italy, Portugal and Spain where dried salt cod is also enjoyed.^[1]

I've just come from a morning with Jane, my gardening mentor. I found her outside giving her perennials a good drink of water spiked with fertilizer. She says they're really hungry right now after the long winter. April is the time to quench their thirst.

As I hung on her every word this morning, it occured to me this is how new cooks must feel. what does blanch mean? how do I chop and onion? what does simmer until 'done' mean anyway?

I'm encouraging Jane to write me a recipe on how to garden: step by step, day by day, season by season. She could start with what I understand - her compost. Beside her sink is a porcelain pot where she collects eggs shells, coffee grinds and peelings. 'Organics from the beginning of the meal, not the end,' she says. When it's full she takes it to the big composter in the backyard, where it turns into lovely, rich, black soil. She scoops it out and sprinkles it on her flower beds.

'Spread it gently over the soil,' she tells me, 'as if you were putting beautiful pearls on a woman.' Or truffle shavings on tagliatelle? Yes. She's speaking my laguage. There's hope for me yet.