Somewhere in the dark recesses of my childhood memories, wedged between paper skeletons and pumpkin guts, lives the candy apple. You know the one – luridly red, glassy, and glossed with just a hint of menace. It wasn’t the type of treat you’d find in the grubby pillowcases we used as candy sacks. It was…
There’s an allure to Asian cuisine that feels like wandering through the back alleys of a bustling market, not knowing what’s around the corner but knowing it’ll be damn good. It’s a blend of controlled chaos, where the sizzle of a hot wok and the crackle of chilis create a culinary symphony. Asia doesn’t just…
Imagine my dismay—my slow-burn heartbreak—as I scoured England for the perfect, fried crisp of a burned-end eggroll and found, time and again, nothing but silence. The eggrolls I had known back in Canada, delicate bombs of crispy perfection, were nowhere to be found on this side of the Atlantic. You’d think that in a land…
Bermuda—idyllic, pristine, and the kind of place that draws families for its pink-sand beaches and glossy travel brochures. But I wasn’t interested in the perfectly curated tourist experience when I went there as a teenager. No, what captured my curiosity (other than this really cute military guy named Shane) was the grit beneath the glam,…
If you’ve spent any time at neighborhood potlucks, you know that every event has its star. Some dishes just don’t mess around. There’s always that one thing that disappears off the table before you even finish your first plate—usually, it’s something like a casserole or fried chicken, maybe someone’s secret family chili. But at every…
I remember the man before I remember the meatballs, but not by much. Jim Jenkins—my dad’s best friend and neighbor—was a fixture of my childhood, a constant presence who made the world seem a little more grounded. He was the kind of guy who’d show up unannounced to fix a broken gutter or help haul…
Borscht—deep, earthy, and unapologetically bold—was more than just a soup for my dad. It was the kind of dish that drew on the marrow-deep satisfaction of hard work and simplicity. Beets, his favorite vegetable, were the heart of it. He saw them as the underdog of the vegetable world: overlooked, misjudged, yet capable of greatness…
I’ve eaten my way through a lot of countries. Some dishes I remember because they blew my mind, some because they damn near killed me, and others just because they were there, in the right place at the right time. But then there are the meals that get under your skin, stay with you long…
For many summers growing up, we would file into the car and drive 24 hours to visit the Millard family in Winnipeg… more specifically Auntie Margaret’s cottage on Winnipeg Beach. The drive felt endless – hours of farmland and bumpy roads – but it was worth every mile, knowing what was waiting for us at…
Some dishes stick with you, not because they’re flashy or complicated, but because they’re rooted deep in the soil of who you are. They remind you where you come from, who you love, and why you keep coming back to the same table. For me, it’s holupci—Ukrainian cabbage rolls. And nobody made them like Baba. Baba…