In the Wintertime

I don’t know where Steve Miller wrote that song, but here in Ontario, brown leaves aren’t a hallmark of winter. It’s white, white as far as the eye can see, and more of it dumping on us anytime the grass dares to show itself.

View of what we like to call “the north 40” (acres). We only have 25.

It stays light out until six o’clock now. I used to think that daylight waxed and waned at the same speed throughout the year, but someone who knows about this stuff told me that actually, it’s faster at times because of the earth’s tilt. I desire exponential waxing in February.

cold corn

Albert reminds me that I used to chide him that winter is a part of living in Canada where we have four seasons. I remember saying it, but I didn’t realize how annoying it sounded. Confronting someone with facts they already know and can’t change is cold comfort.

looking south

tenacious apple

He bought an old snowmobile in December, but I figured it would be back on marketplace before long and I was right. The ad started writing itself in my head every time he went to start it. It only pull started, and irritably, grumbling and talking smack at him the whole time. The stench and the smoke carried even further than the noise once it finally roared into submission.

One day we decided to ride around the field. I drove off slowly in the side by side, leaving Albert engaged in a battle of wills with the snowmobile. When I finally reached the corner some three minutes later, I looked back but he still wasn’t behind me. I turned around, thinking he must have gone through the pasture but when I got back to the yard, he was there, still yanking. New brakes, best offer takes it…great little machine.‍.. ‍

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On the bright side

summer borscht (somma borscht)

On the bright side, I made a pot of somma borscht. It was my first time cooking it with sorrel (süaromp in Low German) along with the usual parsley and dill. My mom never did, but for years I’ve heard that some people make it that way. I think it’s the Mennonites who didn’t immigrate to Mexico. My parents and their people were Old Colony Mennonites from Manitoba and Saskatchewan but they immigrated to Mexico for a few decades starting in the early 1920s. I don’t think they grow much sorrel in Mexico so summer borscht took a back burner to tacos and fideo. Mennonites learned to make summer borscht when they immigrated to present-day Ukraine in Russia during the 18th century. That was before Canada and the states but after Prussia.

I never see sorrel at the grocery store so last year, I planted some in the garden and put it in the freezer. I can’t actually isolate the flavour of sorrel when I taste the borscht, but it was probably the best I’ve ever made.

Last year’s sorrel crowding out the thyme.

Albert doesn’t eat summer borscht. He doesn’t eat any soup, really. Or stew. Or casserole. Basically, any mixed edibles suspended in soup or other non solids, he won’t eat. The man wants his food sorted and on a plate. No warmed-up leftovers at home either, because he has to eat those every day at work. All this gets me pretty riled up sometimes but what he does eat, he eats with gratitude and gusto, so that keeps me mollified for a time.

If you’re thinking of making summer borscht for the first time or if you just want to compare recipes, click the link below.