Mayors East and West

Toronto: Crack Scandal.
Montreal: Last Two removed from office and charged with crimes.
Calgary: Calgarians tweet for a loved mayor to take a nap during the floods.
Vancouver: Hated for creating bike lanes (finally).

Right now it is raining a tropical monsoon. You rarely see rain like this in Vancouver in spite of our reputation. But the air smells heavenly so I have all my windows open. There is so much rain in the air right now it looks like it is foggy out.

I spent most of my energy during the past two days baking and getting depressed. I baked four batches of macarons and all but one were awful. Only one batch worked and I photographed them a couple of days ago. Then, late on Sunday, I found an old oven thermometer and discovered my oven is almost twenty degrees hotter than the dial.

I have also decided to bake by weight instead of volume so today I am going to find a professional digital scale. By the time my hazelnut flour arrives from Vermont, I will have “aged” egg whites.

It’s all about technique. Les Escoffiers age their egg whites up to five days at under paper towel in their fridges then they let them stand for 6 hours at room temperature before they are whipped. Phew. And they adjust the flour content of their recipes ever so slightly when various coloring agents are added. Technique and precision.

Visibility is about two blocks!

You can see the streaking raindrops in this one.

Home Schooling

Due to clouds, the appeal of my new Kitchen Aid mixer, my new desire to learn to bake and my love of macarons I have been baking since early this morning.

I read all I could and put the first batch in (above.)

They rose beautifully as this image (above) shows. I took it through the oven window. I adhered rigorously to the directions of the recipe but I left a pot cover over the burner with the vent and I think that is why I overcooked them.

In the image above, you can see the overcooked first batch; pooey. The pink is the second batch I made.

The second batch did not rise as well but they kept their colour but I am still not happy with their "feet" (the porous spongey lower layer). I am very pleased however with my surface. I sifted three times.

Even the low-risers look decent when the raspberry butter cream is added. I have not tasted them yet but how can butter, eggs, sugar and raspberries go wrong?

Art Summit

My walk to the conference began with a lovely encounter with these two gents outside a coffee place. I see; I melt.

A long time ago I was an arts activist whilst working professionally in the arts. A long time ago I had faith in government, the future and that society would come to recognize the social value of the creative industries. A long time ago, I believed my peers could put the collective ahead of their ego.

Now, aged 65, I remain a cynical and bitter optimist and although my optimus gland is atrophying, I went to The Arts Summit today—a pan creative conference to map out the future we want hosted by the organization I co-founded and served as its first executive director. It was an ego swamp; there are so many people there who like display their accomplishments disguised as advice for others. Revolting.

The worst part of today was being part of a "break out group." I left immediately after and I am not going back for day two. There were no order to our discussion in the small session and I blame our leader for that. But he was almost helpless against one raging ego in our group who would not stop talking. Honestly: It was one of my worst conference experiences ever.

Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny. I ache for a long walk.

Why people come to Vancouver.

This woman, Alison Turner, is the Assistant Executive Director and a whole bunch of other things (her official title is ridiculously long) was the highlight of the conference for me.

Lingua pictoria.

Sadira, my lovely brilliant boss at Emily Carr University.

Rain. So Chris buys happiness.

Because today was horrid.... I went by bus to Canadian Tire to buy a Kitchen Aid mixer (can you feel my love). I found the exact one I wanted in a glorious colour for $499. When I got there, there were none in the colour I wanted but I noticed that the even better version of the mixer (the Prof) was on sale and I got it for just under $350! I got it to make macarons.

To really score with the macarons, I want some flour made from hazelnuts and I called and searched online everywhere. No luck, so I used my grinder to pulverize some raw hazelnuts that I planned to grind with a mortar an pestle but it is too oily to make into flower and I could not find a way to dry it so  now I am waiting for my $38 bag of hazelnut flower to arrive from Vermont.

•

Oh my God ... Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz is the most fulfilling read I have enjoyed in a long, long time. I am an animal fanatic and this profoundly interesting book is extremely aptly titled plus, Ms Horowitz is as clever a writer as she is a scientist—and that is her approach in this treasure. She is a Godsend for  everyone who loves dogs and life.

To the Doctor and Back

The one balcony I liked. Hemlock St.

Today I set out to look at balconies on a grey but dry day (so far). I live in a tower and have no balcony; only two windows open. I have windows from wall to wall but I miss the outdoors and even one plant so I pine to move every summer—to a place with a big balcony.

Today was disheartening. Almost every balcony I saw was tiny; the worst was one with two doors accessing onto it that prevented you from having anything on the balcony so that both doors could open. Many were overcrowded. I only saw one I liked and it is clear I couldn’t afford it.

I walked to my (wonderful) doctor’s office, waited an hour and then had a great visit because it was my first visit since he saw my play. I also received an invitation for a dinner and a private screening of a film (I am in) at a major philanthropist’s home here in Vancouver and another guest wrote to me who had seen my play. The phrase that dominates my life since the play debuted is: Positive unexpected outcomes.

“Stop to smell the roses,” they say. I do. In fact I stop to smell any fragrant flower. I worship the sense of smell. I also stop for dogs and cats. I am animal manic and reading Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz is teaching me about my canine brothers. They not only stop to smell the roses, they can smell a difference in each petal.

I came home via the market and bought supplies to make another tart. Oh my God. What is going to happen to my waist? The worst thing about this sudden (and unexpected) interest in baking is that cooking for friends is going to take even longer. I never cooked desert. I would always make a simple fruit desert; all I cared about was the savoury part of the meal. Now the cooking/eating time ratio is going to be even worse.

 Fairview Slopes (above and below) was once a tony area to live. W 8th.

More houses with front porches mere meters from the street. W 8th.

Sites like this make me melt.

Lynn Valley Again & Downtown

Back to the dentist in North Van to walk home. Nothing of interest to report (except Costco was out of limes—damn). I can't say it often enough: The feel of warm sunlight on the skin is as heavenly a feeling as I have ever felt. (Not burning or hot sweaty sun, but warm lovely late afternoon sun).

Walking through town I was struck by the names of residences. I hardly ever hear people give their addresses by the name of their building—except, perhaps, with the iconic ones—but the tradition thrives. Many have no names now, but lots do....

Is this a bit pompous?

The owner has to be a Scot.

 Whose?

 LIke living in a laundromat.

 A lot of buildings in the West End—especially near the beach—have names that evoke beach culture.

This place in North Van is four stories high.

I never tire of the Seabus and this view of the Convention Centre.