One Local Summer::Week 4

I know I said I was going to jump outside my box and put together a meal a little more blog-worthy. I lie. Each week I do a little more research and bring a little more local food into the house, but with a newborn, time is still pretty rare to do things like cook a meal that takes longer than say, 10 minutes. And I can cook fish and beans in about 10 minutes so fish and beans it was. With some peppers because I love me some peppers.

I thought about titling this entry One Local Summer::Local-washing. You know, like brain-washing or green-washing but instead we’re being tricked into thinking we’re eating locally when “local” could mean “Western Canada”. And Western Canada? A pretty big place, I’m not exactly “local” to Regina, you know what I’m saying?
I walked into my local big-box grocery the other day (Save-On Foods) and noticed all these lovely signs next to equally lovely produce declaring them to be “local”. Some of them even had the farm name. Jack pot! Could it be? Could I be able to one-stop shop and eat locally? The hardest part of the this challenge for me so far is getting out of the house. Nevermind stopping at several shops for specific ingredients. I piled my cart high with local foods, beaming with pride and the thought of the all the time I just saved and how I didn’t have to endure the sounds of an unhappy baby and toddler.
Then I was lying in bed and thought to myself how that was far too easy. Even though local eating SHOULD be easy, the truth is, it isn’t. The next morning I did some investigating and sure enough “local” could be anywhere in Western Canada. While this is an improvement on say, California or Mexico, it isn’t really my definition of local.
Yesterday I went out to Coombs to pick up some truly local honey, which I hope to incorporate as the new sweetner of choice in the house, and took a look at their “local” eggs. Again we have a pretty hazy definition of local. There is a division of a larger corporation called Island Eggs where eggs are graded. The eggs are not produced on the island, but in Ontario. It is pretty easy to get local eggs where I live, but the idea of calling an egg that is graded here local bothers me. Nevermind the extensive amount of research that has to happen just to determine that.
On that note, I thought I’d post a picture of our hard-core little locavore. It doesn’t get more local than breastmilk, does it?!

The First Three Hours

One Local Summer::Week 3

This week will look a lot like Week 1, except with a different fish, and differnt side. So it really doesn’t look anything like Week 1. But its fish, which is likely going to be theme because we eat a lot of fish and conveniently live next to an ocean.

What we have here is Halibut from the French Creek Fish Market, that I did on the BBQ, wrapped in tinfoil. It was marinated in soy sauce, brown sugar, basil and oregano so not one ounce of the sauce was local. It motivated me to look into local sources of sugar and yeah. No such thing, although Alberta does grow sugar beets, you just can’t tell which bag of sugar is made from sugar beets and which from sugar cane. Any thoughts on an alternative to sugar that would be local? Maybe applesauce? But wouldn’t applesauce leave behind the taste of, say, apple, more than just straight-up sweetness?
I didn’t even make an effort to find local soy sauce.
The potatoes were a fabulous find this week. A friend tipped me off that my local tourist market, Coombs, is now selling mostly local foods. Those little nugget potatoes were fabulous even if they were a tad crispy, and I also picked up cucumber, tomatos, peppers that were grown on Rage’s Farm in Port Alberni, and avocados (which are clearly not local, but organic, and yum! I love avocados!).
Next week I’m aiming to make something a bit more challenging instead of the fish-veggie-starch kick I’ve been on. I’m not yet sure what that something is.

Hign Maintenance

PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOOOOOWWWWWWW! WHERE ARE YOU?

oh! There you are!

When I tell you to be here, you get your ass here ASAP. None of this dilly-dallying you do. You hear?

My Dog

Like I previously mentioned in the Father’s Day Post, my dog bit the neighbour. Really bit him with puncture wounds and oozing blood.
Vegas is a high maintenance dog that Steve and I have managed over the years. Its been a lot of work and a lot of recognizing that we don’t have “that” dog. Our dog can’t come with us most places, and when visitors come over, there is either a serious introduction routine (and Steve HAS to be here) or he’s put in the garage where he feels safe and secure. Although I am making him out to be a scary dog, he’s not, he has fear aggression. The best thing is to be introduced to the dog properly and then the next time you come over, he’ll accept you just fine.
This was not Vegas’ fault. In fact, it was an honest mistake. My neighbour was in the yard working on the pump that broke down last week. Vegas was itching to get outside to pee, so when the neighbour had vacated the pump house, I let Vegas out for pee.
Unfortunately, the neighbour was still in the yard, just out of my peripheral view from my living room window so I didn’t see him when I checked.
Vegas charged, full throttle and began snapping and barking at the neighbour. Snapped at his hand, and bit him. Vegas was pulling at his jeans, the whole nine yards.
I was relatively calm because I didn’t realize the extent in which Vegas was reacting. I thought he was just circling and barking and when I got there, he came to me on demand, sat, went into a down-stay and was obedient. Then I realized that the neighbour was sporting one hell of a bite wound.
My neighbour is an exceptionally nice guy. He took it in stride, and doesn’t blame the dog. In fact, he’s glad that we have a guard dog because he feels that Vegas is guarding both homes.
Thing is, I never signed on for a guard dog. And if I am being completely honest, biting someone crosses my line. I am not that person. My dog does not sit on a pedastal, he is not my “baby”, he is a dog. A wonderful, loyal, protective beast that I don’t mind sharing my home and life with but still a dog.
I am not sure I want a dog I can’t trust. I have two children and I am not sure I could live with myself if Vegas bit my kids. Sure, we can go on and on about how Vegas would NEVER bite our kids. Not our kids, oh no, he’d protect them. Personally I think that’s not being realistic because he’s a dog, and an unpredictable dog at that.
Even if he would never bite my kids, what if he bit my friend’s kids? I am super anal about the dog when my friends’ kids are here. He is either in the yard, or locked in the garage. When you have a dog with fear aggression, you just don’t take the risk. But you know what? An honest mistake can happen again. Callum could open the garage door…
We started researching what the training options are, even though the intensity and time committment required is not likely a feasible option. And it is serious training with no promising results. The statistics are that most of the time the dog is put down.
This has to be dealt with, but death? Is death the answer? Vegas’ history and genetics have made him the high maintenance dog that he is, not one ounce of this is his fault.
I just don’t know what to do. I plan to call a trainer this week, and will likely call the SPCA and my vet. At this point, I’m even scared to take him to the vet for fear he’ll now bite.
The good thing is that by not removing Vegas from the situation, and the fact that my neighbour and I stood and spoke to each other for several minutes afterward, I did something right. When attempting to control fear aggression you don’t want the dog to think that if he bites someone they go away because that is what they want to happen.