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Lentils and the Ethics of Feeding Oneself
I hear the crunching sound of my fork pierce the crisp arugula. Reverently, I take another bite of salad. The subtle spiciness of the arugula, the tangy lemon, the salty parmesan, the richness of the olive oil, and the caramelized earthiness of the toasted almonds blend into a complex symphony of flavour. Each element was
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Mad Libs: Poetry Edition
Fill in the blanks with your own words of choice to personalize this poem! Use the labels under the blanks as guides. Feel free to go off-book — scratch out, write over, and repurpose the piece as you wish. Gala forged the sickle The valley reddens and in my chest something halters Do you fear
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beauty is pain (part 2)
Read Lessons from a Wooden Board: Beauty is Pain (part 1) by Cappucine The beauty of this world Is overwhelmingly painful The kind of pain where you feel as though everything makes perfect sense for a moment and every moment after that makes less and less sense The kind of pain where ugly is the
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lost in crossing
our home on native land is a home our ancestors would mourn. hundreds of years spent working mountains, forests, pastures and fields, to relocate 6000km away, for a chance to eat Kraft’s golden Dinner. decades on this earth and I can’t name my grandmother’s food in her native language; I long to know the world
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Just the Essentials
When I was a child, I dreaded stopping for groceries. There was a gnawing nothingness that emerged inside me as I sat in the car hearing my mom ask if we could make a quick stop to grab some choy for the night. I think it was a feeling that we were doing nothing at
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Playing with my Food: on eating with hands
I have fond memories of being fed by my mother’s hands. In particular, our version of the classic Sunday roast: a whole chicken stuffed with ginger and scallions, steamed on a platter with blocks of soft tofu; a side of Chinese greens sautéed in garlic and topped with oyster sauce; a personal saucer with ginger-scallion
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Love and Breadfruit
My grandma has lived in Canada for over 56 years, and I had the chance to live with her for 4-5 years while I attended university in Toronto. We ate together and cooked together. Food connected my grandma and me. She cooked for me whenever she could, and she would eat my food if it
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Salty Little Tariff Treat
What Does Buying Canadian Really Mean? Earlier this year, as the US began levying tariffs against Canada, I found myself standing in the grocery store with a predicament. A potato chip predicament. My preferred method of coping with the stress of our politically-turbulent times — to seek out a salty little treat — had become
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